The perceived double standard in public reactions to similar gestures by public figures often stems not from the act itself but from the context, intent, and perceived authenticity of the individual involved. In late 2025, Butler County Commissioner Cindy Carpenter visited the office of Level 27, a student housing apartment complex near Miami University in Oxford, Ohio, amid a rent dispute involving her granddaughter, who resided there. During the encounter, Carpenter became frustrated with the staff’s handling of the situation, raised her voice, and—when she believed she was alone and unobserved—made an obscene gesture (flipping off the empty front counter) while mouthing an expletive, as captured on surveillance video. The apartment manager filed a complaint alleging intimidation, racist remarks, belligerent behavior, and abuse of power, though a subsequent investigation by Butler County Prosecutor Mike Gmoser cleared her of official misconduct.
This incident drew significant local criticism, portraying Carpenter as entitled and leveraging her position as a county commissioner to pressure private employees for personal family gain. Critics described her as embodying a “Karen” archetype—someone who weaponizes authority or status when not getting their way—mainly since the gesture occurred passively and covertly, behind the backs of those involved after they had turned away.
In contrast, on January 13, 2026, President Donald Trump toured the Ford River Rouge Complex in Dearborn, Michigan, as part of efforts to highlight manufacturing and economic policies. During the visit, a worker heckled him from the plant floor, shouting “pedophile protector”—a reference to criticisms surrounding Trump’s past associations with Jeffrey Epstein and the administration’s handling of related document releases. Trump, walking on an elevated area, turned, mouthed an expletive (appearing to say “f— you”), and raised his middle finger directly at the heckler before continuing. The White House defended the response as “appropriate and unambiguous” to what they called a “lunatic… wildly screaming expletives in a complete fit of rage.”
The Ford worker was later suspended, and while some condemned Trump’s gesture as unpresidential, many supporters viewed it positively as a bold, unfiltered rejection of antagonism. The key distinctions lie in several factors. First, Trump’s action was a direct, face-to-face response to active heckling during a public tour where he was not seeking personal favors but representing broader interests—such as supporting American manufacturing and workers. Many observers see this as authentic: Trump has long cultivated an image of unapologetic directness, consistent whether cameras are rolling or not. He was not attempting to extract a concession or intimidate subordinates for private gain; he was dismissing an insult while moving on to his next engagement.
Carpenter’s gesture, however, appeared passive-aggressive and concealed—she performed it when backs were turned, and she thought no one (including cameras) was watching, only to be caught on surveillance. This revealed a discrepancy between her public persona as a dedicated public servant focused on families and communities and her private frustration. The incident involved using her official title to influence a private business matter concerning family, which amplified perceptions of entitlement and abuse of position. Even though both acts involved the same crude gesture, the surrounding circumstances rendered them qualitatively different: one as a raw, representative dismissal of hostility, the other as a tantrum from perceived privilege.
Public tolerance for such behavior often hinges on authenticity and representation. When a leader acts consistently—openly embodying the frustrations of those they serve—the same act can be celebrated as “real” or “standing up.” When it exposes hypocrisy or self-serving motives, it invites disdain. In a republic, elected officials are expected to wield power responsibly for the public good, not personal leverage. Trump’s pre-office persona as a straightforward businessman carried over into politics, allowing supporters to see his gesture as aligned with their own impulses against critics. Carpenter’s action, tied to a family dispute and hidden until exposed, reinforced doubts.
Carpenter’s gesture, however, appeared passive-aggressive and concealed—she performed it when backs were turned, and she thought no one (including cameras) was watching, only to be caught on surveillance. This revealed a discrepancy between her public persona as a dedicated public servant focused on families and communities and her private frustration. The incident involved using her official title to influence a private business matter concerning family, which amplified perceptions of entitlement and abuse of position. Even though both acts involved the same crude gesture, the surrounding circumstances rendered them qualitatively different: one as a raw, representative dismissal of hostility, the other as a tantrum from perceived privilege.
Ultimately, the difference is not that one figure “gets away with” the gesture while the other does not due to partisan bias alone. It is the context of intent, directness, and whether the act serves personal entitlement or a broader representational role. True character emerges in moments of pressure, especially when one believes no one is watching. Failing that test of consistency undermines credibility far more than the gesture itself. What actions like this reveal about the people involved is how they really think about the world around them. With Carpenter, we see what she thinks about people she disagrees with, because she thought nobody was looking. But with Trump, he gave his heckler the finger to his face, not caring who saw, or what they might think of him. One incident of giving the finger made a politician look like an unhinged “Karen” throwing a temper tantrum that she didn’t have the guts to show to people’s faces. The other was cool, and a proper fighting back at the moment, without the usual calculated political response people have grown tired of. And in the end, the gestures showed voters who the people really were. So it’s not a double standard where Trump can get away with it because he’s a man, and Cindy can’t because she’s a woman. But because one of those politicians is honest, while the other one is deceitful, power hungry, and a train wreck of a person. And figuring all that out is sometimes just as easy as a simple hand gesture.
The contrast becomes even starker when considering the aftermath of each incident. In Carpenter’s case, the surveillance footage—showing her gesture directed at an empty counter after staff had walked away—fueled calls for her resignation from political opponents ahead of the May 2026 Republican primary. Challengers like Hamilton councilman Michael Ryan seized on the event to portray her as embodying a pattern of arrogance and entitlement, with one opponent explicitly labeling it as part of a broader “bias, arrogance, and abuse of power.” Even after Prosecutor Mike Gmoser cleared her of legal misconduct in early December 2025, the damage lingered in public opinion, reinforcing narratives of a two-faced politician whose private frustrations betray a cultivated public image of community service. This revelation of inconsistency erodes the foundational trust voters place in representatives: if the mask slips when unobserved, what other discrepancies exist in policy or decision-making?
At its root, the perceived double standard is less about partisan favoritism and more about the alignment between action and identity. Public figures are judged not solely on isolated behaviors but on whether those behaviors cohere with the narrative they project and the interests they claim to serve. Trump’s pre-political life as a blunt, unfiltered dealmaker provided a consistent backdrop; his gesture fit seamlessly into that continuity, even if it shocked traditional decorum. Carpenter’s long tenure—clerk of courts from 1996-2010, commissioner since 2011—has emphasized family values, community initiatives, and fiscal responsibility, making the covert outburst appear as a betrayal of that facade. In a republic, voters demand representatives who embody reliability under pressure, particularly when power is involved. When a leader’s conduct varies based on audience or visibility, it signals a deeper unreliability that invites skepticism far beyond one crude gesture.
Footnotes
¹ Butler County Prosecutor Mike Gmoser, report on complaint against Commissioner Cindy Carpenter, as summarized in Journal-News coverage, December 3, 2025.
² Kiara Nard, Level 27 community manager, complaint details reported in WKRC Local 12, December 4, 2025.
³ Cindy Carpenter, statement to Journal-News, December 2025.
⁴ Video footage from Ford River Rouge Complex tour, January 13, 2026, as reported by TMZ and Reuters.
⁵ White House statement via Steven Cheung, January 13-14, 2026.
⁶ United Auto Workers and Ford responses, January 14, 2026.
Few works of fiction demonstrate how a single cultural artifact can redirect mass sentiment as clearly as Robert A. Heinlein’s Stranger in a Strange Land. The lesson is not merely about the book’s plot or its notoriety, but about how one or two influential voices—amplified at the right moment—can reframe the public’s sense of normal, desirable, and permissible. In that sense, the novel became a lever: it showed how quickly intellectual fashion can spread once an idea is given a compelling narrative vessel and a ready audience. Whether the author intended it or not, such works often become signal boosters for movements eager to shake the old moral architecture.
At the center of the novel’s cultural imprint, as I read it, is a sustained argument against organized religion—less a theological disagreement than a social revolution by narrative means. Heinlein built his case dramatically, not dogmatically, embedding a worldview in characters and community structures that model life without traditional guardrails and sold it with the use of group orgies and severe sexual deviancy. To me, that is where the damage began: by undermining institutions that help ordinary people consolidate virtue and discipline desire, the book invited a generation to experiment with a vacuum—an open space where inherited norms were cast as oppressive rather than protective.
This is where my position diverges most sharply from Heinlein’s. I argue that human beings require shared standards, rituals, and guardrails to become their best selves. Organized religion—at its best—provides a civilizational scaffolding: it teaches time-tested boundaries, channels ambition toward fruitful ends, and aligns private conduct with public well-being. Remove that scaffolding, and something else will rush in to fill the void: fads, chemicals, celebrity cults, ideological tribes, and the market’s loudest impulses. In retrospect, the novel did not merely critique religion; it reprogrammed sentiment against an order that had long helped cultivate responsibility and continuity.
That shift, once normalized, cascaded into the wider cultural economy. Publishing, music, film, fashion, and campus discourse seized on the book’s rebellion as a mood, infusing it into slogans, styles, and scenes. The effect snowballed: when guardrails are mocked long enough, the next generation mistakes the mockery for wisdom and the absence of boundaries for freedom. Yet freedom without structure becomes drift—a vacancy the market will monetize and the state will eventually regulate. What was sold as liberation often ends as dependency—on substances, on trends, or on authorities who promise to manage the chaos.
Another uncomfortable reality: power centers notice when a single narrative can mobilize the masses. When culture proves it can be swung by a small cohort of storytellers and influencers, hidden patrons inevitably appear—financiers, tastemakers, publicity machines—eager to steer the swing for their own ends. I’m not accusing Heinlein of conspiracy; I’m describing the structural fact that memes attract money, and money reorganizes culture. Once the idea is loose, the sponsors come, and the social machinery follows.
The long-tail consequence has been a population re-educated by entertainment—trained to distrust inherited wisdom, to laugh at the past, and to outsource meaning to the loudest novelty. This is not progress; it is civilizational amnesia. The cost shows up as broken families, attenuated civic trust, declining attention spans, and rising loneliness—symptoms of a culture that has traded thick institutions for thin ideologies. What looked like enlightenment from a distance often feels like atomization up close.
I’m not denying Heinlein’s craft or the book’s clever provocations. He staged a serious debate and gave it commercial muscle. But a debate that deconstructs without reconstructing is not a public service; it is a demolition project with no blueprint for the rebuild. The aftermath is predictable: a vacuum that gets filled by commercial spectacle and political manipulation, neither of which makes people more virtuous, more responsible, or more free.
So the task now is not to censor the past but to relearn how culture works—how a few works, a few voices, at a few key moments, can swing the habits of millions. The remedy is to rebuild moral architecture openly and confidently: to argue for the goods that institutions secure, to defend boundaries that dignify the person, and to recover a language of obligation that lifts people above impulse. If a novel could hasten our drift, then a counter‑culture of serious books, films, and music can hasten our return. The first step is telling the truth about what happened: we traded structure for sensation, and we are living with the bill. It’s time to pay it by rebuilding what works.
There’s a reason certain books become cultural accelerants rather than mere entertainment: they supply a portable metaphysics with just enough voltage to light up restless minds, and just enough ambiguity to be co-opted by seekers and opportunists alike. Robert A. Heinlein’s Stranger in a Strange Land is one of those books, a mid-century science fiction novel that cracked open the 1960s with an outsider’s catechism on sex, religion, death, money, and the divine spark in each individual. Its Martian-tutored protagonist, Valentine Michael Smith, landed on an Earth beset by institutional power, moral boilerplate, and spiritual fatigue, and he answered with an unsettling blend of radical empathy and radical freedom. The novel coined a word—grok—to name comprehension so intimate it dissolves the distance between knower and known. Forty-plus years later, that one word would christen an AI system built by the richest technologist on the planet. And in between, the same book passed—secondhand, sometimes orally—through prison yards and crash pads, helping to underwrite a new church in real life and, if some accounts are even half right, lending imagery and idiom to darker congregations as well. That is how literature, when it fully enters the bloodstream, becomes a condition of existence for a culture. It can elevate; it can deform; it can be misunderstood with catastrophic confidence. It is never “just a story.” (Stranger’s term “grok,” its countercultural adoption, and the book’s icon status are well‑documented.12)
The plot skeleton is simple enough: a human born on Mars returns to Earth carrying Martian language, habits, and powers, and tries to reconcile an alien metaphysics with human frailty. Heinlein sets the stage with an Earth under a world government and a media‑religious complex that rings uncomfortably familiar: bureaucrats who genuflect to expediency, churches that commodify ecstasy, and a populace reduced to spectatorship. In that theater, Smith learns, imitates, provokes, and then founds a religion—the Church of All Worlds—whose liturgy of water-sharing, free love, and the mantra “Thou art God” scandalized the early sixties and then fit the late sixties like a glove. The book won a Hugo in 1962, sold in the millions by the end of the decade, and became an icon of the counterculture, precisely because its invitation ran both inward and outward: individuate beyond the cages, but also love past the fences. If some readers mainly heard the erotic and communal notes, the text still insists that Smith’s path runs through personal trial, not collectivist absorption; his charisma is a hazard as much as a hope. (On themes, reception, and cultural impact: Britannica; EBSCO; SparkNotes syntheses.134)
Words travel. “Grok” escaped the book and took on a life in hacker subculture and tech jargon, shorthand for a depth of understanding you can’t fake. The Oxford English Dictionary installed it; programmers adopted it as a badge of mastery; radio hosts still explain it to callers as “intuitive grasp plus empathy.” This isn’t a trivial migration of slang. “Grok” is the kind of word that makes engineers feel philosophical, and philosophers feel practical, because it fuses cognition and communion. That fusion is precisely what makes the term alluring for people building machines that aim to “understand” us. When Elon Musk’s team at xAI named their system Grok, it was a deliberate raid on Heinlein’s storehouse: to “grok” is to know with such immersion that the boundary between observer and observed thins—an AI aspiration in one syllable. Whether any machine can attain that intimacy is beside the point; the branding conveys the ambition, and the aspiration shapes the build. Musk’s public remarks and multiple reference write-ups trace the name straight to Heinlein; even neutral entries now record Grok (the chatbot) as named for Stranger’s Martian verb. (Grok etymology and xAI’s naming are noted across reference sources and news explainer pieces.567)
Then there is the other trail—the one that runs through penitentiary talk, Haight‑Ashbury mimicry, and a homicide trial that soaked the sixties in a final, nauseous dye. Accounts from journalists and cultural critics argue that Charles Manson, during a stint at McNeil Island in the early 1960s, encountered Stranger in a Strange Land (primarily via inmate buzz) alongside L. Ron Hubbard’s Dianetics, and scavenged from both to assemble a pastiche religion with rituals and vocabulary echoing Heinlein: water ceremonies; “grokking”; the image of a messiah‑figure magnetizing women into a sexually communal “family.” Jeet Heer summarized this lineage crisply—Manson as the barely literate synthesizer, absorbing by conversation and performative memory rather than close reading; Stranger as the source of terms and rites; Dianetics as the promise of mind‑over‑matter. Heer isn’t alone in drawing lines; contemporary and retrospective pieces (some serious, some gossipy) have recycled a 1970 San Francisco report asserting Manson read the book “over and over,” even nicknaming his probation officer “Jubal” after Heinlein’s garrulous lawyer‑sage. Critics will argue about how direct or decisive the influence was; no one seriously denies the White Album and “Helter Skelter” obsession, but the Heinlein element moves in and out of focus depending on which witness you privilege. The fair reading: Stranger’s countercultural prestige and ritual aesthetics gave Manson stage props, not a script—and he used them for a theater of control, not liberation. (On Manson’s exposure to Heinlein/Hubbard and alleged borrowings: New Republic overview; a research blog that archives period claims; caution advised.89)
If you widen the aperture, the 1960s offer an ecosystem of appropriation. Heinlein’s novel fed a real-world neo-pagan church—the Church of All Worlds—whose founders openly acknowledged the book as scripture in spirit and structure: water-sharing liturgy, “nests” of community, and “Thou art God” as an immanentist creed. That religious offshoot shows a benign pathway: fiction used to animate community, ritual, ecology, and mythopoesis. Manson’s path was malign, substituting domination for discipline. The exact text, two radically divergent implementations, and a lesson that literature teachers should emphasize in boldface: interpretation has moral consequences. (On CAW’s derivation from Heinlein, see Carole Cusack’s study of Stranger as “scripture.”10)
Once you accept that books are live wires, you can track their voltage across decades. When a modern AI system takes the name Grok, it doesn’t merely nod to geek lore; it aligns itself with a thesis about intelligence—understanding as fusion. From one angle, that’s poetic overreach; from another, it’s a principled wager: that great models must internalize context, not just compute it. The irony is that, as Grok the product acquired cultural baggage—political slant controversies; allegations around deepfake image generation; even bans and regulatory probes in multiple countries—the Heinleinian halo didn’t shield it. Indeed, the “grok” label invites higher scrutiny: if you promise empathetic comprehension, you’ll be judged against the harms caused when the tool “understands” poorly or is misused. Governments from Malaysia to the U.K. have, in recent weeks, moved to restrain or investigate Grok’s image features after reports of nonconsensual sexualized imagery; the Pentagon simultaneously announced plans to put Grok on specific networks, a whiplash example of dual reception when high-voltage tech hits the public square. A word from a 1961 novel now headlines diplomatic notes and defense briefings. (On Grok’s naming and the current regulatory/policy storyline, see Wikipedia’s product page, CBS/Observer coverage, and The Independent’s explainer.511121314)
The temptation—especially for academics and cultural arbiters—is to treat Stranger’s afterlives as mere epiphenomena: ephemera of fandom here, the aberrations of losers and outlaws there, and, in the 2020s, the opportunistic stylings of billionaire technologists. But that misses the central mechanism. Narratives are cognitive scaffolds. They let people borrow sophistication without earning it. The same scaffolding can lift you to a vista or collapse on top of you. In Stranger, Heinlein depicts a messiah whose hard-won understanding of human ambiguity sits alongside scenes of utopian play; readers who import the play without the ordeal will replicate the surface without the substance. That’s the “borrowed authority” problem I keep returning to: quoting a text to import its aura while evading its demands. At best, that breeds smugness; at worst, it breeds governance by incantation, whether the incantations are mythic (“Thou art God”) or technological (“we grok”). The book itself is not to blame for the misuse, but it is a litmus test for whether readers are consuming the form of meaning or the work of meaning. (Stranger’s themes and the individualized vs. collectivized readings are surveyed in the critical guides.154)
I understand why mid-century intellectuals fell for Heinlein, and why a particular cadre of administrators and politicians in any era fall for the aesthetics of knowing. Dropping the proper names—Campbell and Jung yesterday, “grok” and AGI today—becomes a way to signal altitude. But altitude faked kills. Charles Manson is the berserk, criminal parody of that altitude; bureaucratic myth‑talk is the polite parody; and tech‑branding that promises transcendent comprehension is the market parody. Each borrows light while neglecting the filament—the character, the cost, the test—that makes light possible—the grotesque version murders in canyons. The genteel version governs by sermon. The glossy version ships fast and apologizes later. In every case, the reading of myth (or sci-fi mythopoesis) is outer first, inner last—which is to say, backwards. (Stranger’s countercultural pull and the later critiques of its simplifications are part of the long critical conversation.316)
The disputed territory is thornier. Did three paperbacks, a stack of Beatles LPs, and a handful of amphetamines cause the Tate‑LaBianca murders? That’s a prosecutor’s theater and a journalist’s cautionary tale; Vincent Bugliosi immortalized the official motive as “Helter Skelter,” a race‑war fantasy Manson drew from the White Album. The Beatles themselves have pushed back on the idea that their songs encoded apocalypse; commentators like Ivor Davis have argued the motive story over‑credits the soundtrack and under‑analyzes Manson’s pathology and manipulations. Tom O’Neill’s twenty-year investigation, CHAOS, complicated the picture further by questioning elements of the prosecution’s narrative and mapping suggestive corridors between Manson’s world and the ecosystem of informants, researchers, and programs now shorthanded as MKULTRA’s shadow—provocation enough to trigger furious rebuttals, careful reviews, and a Netflix codicil years later. The public record confirms that MKULTRA existed (with Senate hearings, FOIA caches, and declassified files); it does not confirm that Manson was a CIA puppet. The responsible thing to say is simple: the official story isn’t the whole story, and the alternate stories aren’t proven. But note what is not in dispute: Stranger in a Strange Land and Dianetics were live topics in Manson’s prison exposure; the White Album obsessed him; and he could mimic the vocabulary of enlightenment to parasite individual souls. (Helter Skelter motive; Beatles responses; O’Neill’s CHAOS; MKULTRA documentation.1718192021)
If the 1960s trained us to fear the charismatic cult, the 2020s should train us to fear the charismatic API. The leap from “grok” as personal empathy to “Grok” as an industrial cognition engine is not merely punny; it’s programmatic. The system promises fundamental‑time awareness, cultural fluency, and an irreverent voice. When it fails on those promises—by reflecting the biases of its owners or by being exploited to generate violation at scale—the gap between aspiration and consequence becomes the headline. Regulators respond; militaries experiment; the public oscillates between fascination and recoil. The Heinleinian admonition here would be to own the ordeal: if you market comprehension, accept accountability for the harms that follow from comprehension simulated without care. (On Grok’s controversies, bans, and adoption: CBS, The Independent, Observer summaries; see also the product page’s historical notes.111213145)
So what is the through‑line from a prison rumor mill to a billionaire’s announcement stream? It is the operationalization of fiction. Heinlein offered a parable of an alien who learns humanity and tries to save it from itself through a liturgy of courage and tenderness. Counterculture kids operationalized the parable into communes and churches; some criminals operationalized its aesthetics into pretexts for domination; future technologists operationalized its most famous verb into a target for machine “understanding.” The sober adult lesson is to insist on direction of fit: inner first, outer second. If a text invites you to grok, grok the work—the discipline, the testing, the humility—before you grok the sign—the slogan, the ritual, the brand. The failure of academia in its worst mood is to reward the sign and neglect the work; the inability of public life is to confuse quotation with qualification. Both failures are preventable, but only if we reinstate the distinction that Stranger dramatizes, whether we like it or not: the individual is the bearer of light, not the abstraction; communities are healthy to the extent they honor that light rather than harvest it.
If you want to measure a culture’s maturity, don’t look at which books it venerates; look at how it uses them. Does it use them as permission slips for appetite or as programs for courage? Does it treat their heroes as costumes to wear or as ordeals to undergo? Stranger in a Strange Land remains a diagnostic device because it contains both temptations: the easy mask and the arduous pilgrimage. In one century, its vocabulary flowed into a murder trial, a registered religion, and a frontier AI model. That spread is not an argument for censorship or for piety. It is a map of how narratives move through human weakness and human ambition. It is a warning to the would-be leader who quotes because quoting is easy. And it is a small benediction for the reader who remembers what the book actually said: that no collective can save you from the courage of becoming a person, and that no brand can substitute for the work of truly understanding—of grokking—anything at all.
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Footnotes
1. Heinlein’s novel as a counterculture icon and plot/themes overview. Encyclopaedia Britannica, “Stranger in a Strange Land.”1
2. “Grok” coined by Heinlein; definition and diffusion into tech culture. Wikipedia, “Grok.”2
3. Study‑guide syntheses on themes (religion, individual vs. collective, Jesus parallels). SparkNotes; eNotes analysis.415
4. Cultural impact and reception in the 1960s; research overviews. EBSCO Research Starters; Ohio State Pressbook chapter.322
5. Church of All Worlds derived from Stranger: Carole M. Cusack, “Science Fiction as Scripture…,” University of Sydney (pdf).10
6. Manson’s exposure to Stranger/Dianetics while imprisoned; ritual/vocabulary echoes (caveat: interpretive essaying, not court findings). Jeet Heer, The New Republic; curated archival discussion on MansonBlog.89
7. Prosecutor’s framing of motive as “Helter Skelter”; Beatles pushback. Helter Skelter (book) entry; Rolling Stone retrospective (Beatles’ remarks).1718
8. Alternate/critical framings of motive narrative. Ivor Davis’ essay.23
9. CHAOS (Tom O’Neill) as revisionist probe; CIA review synopsis; Wikipedia background, including Op. CHAOS reference. (Allegations, not fact.)1920
10. MKULTRA’s existence, scope, and hearings—primary documentation. U.S. Senate 1977 hearing (pdf); CIA FOIA MK‑ULTRA page.2124
11. “Grok” (chatbot) named after Heinlein’s term; product histories. Wikipedia “Grok (chatbot).”5
12. Press and explainer confirmations of Grok naming from Heinlein’s word; xAI news ecosystem. ABP News explainer; Sentisight analysis; The Independent overview.6714
13. Regulatory/bans/probes and adoption headlines (Malaysia/Indonesia bans; Ofcom investigation; Pentagon adoption remarks). CBS News; Observer; CBS/AP.111312
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Working Bibliography (select)
• Heinlein, Robert A. Stranger in a Strange Land. (Novel; multiple editions). Overview in Britannica.1
• Cusack, Carole M. “Science Fiction as Scripture: Stranger in a Strange Land and the Church of All Worlds.” (University of Sydney).10
What makes this moment in history so volatile is not just the number of conspiracies floating around, but the sheer velocity with which they move. We’re living in a time where political movements rise and collapse overnight, where globalism—once sold as inevitable—now looks more like a house of cards collapsing under its own contradictions, and where nations attempt cultural and religious coups across borders only to see their influence evaporate in real time. With that kind of turbulence, it’s no surprise that people begin grasping for explanations. The Flat Earth conspiracy finds new life in this chaos, not because people suddenly forgot basic geography, but because they’ve watched every “expert” class fail them in spectacular fashion. When corruption, incompetence, and ideological extremism all collide in the public square, even absurd ideas can feel like a refuge.
And there’s a cruel irony in how this particular conspiracy works. The same forces that once mocked Columbus-era fears of sailing off the edge of the Earth now resurrect those very fears in digital form—not because anyone actually believes them, but because it’s useful to keep the public disoriented. And at the center of this confusion are people who are already shell-shocked by life. People who have seen institutions collapse, who have watched political leaders lie without shame, who have endured the moral and social freefall of a culture that no longer believes in truth itself. For those people, turning to Scripture isn’t foolish—it’s noble. It’s what people do when the world becomes too unstable to trust. And I don’t fault them for that. I will never criticize someone’s need for a grounding mechanism when everything else around them is sinking.
But that’s exactly where the manipulators strike. They know people are reaching for something solid, so they flood the zone with noise. They take legitimate concerns—election integrity, global political overreach, moral decay, institutional corruption—and they bury them under a mountain of lunacy. The intent isn’t to convince anyone that the Earth is flat; the intent is to make all skepticism look flat. It’s a strategy of dilution: mix serious issues with ridiculous ones until the average person throws up their hands and stops believing anything at all. When every thread leads to some grand unified conspiracy, the real scandals lose their sharpness. And that’s the point. The Flat Earth narrative becomes the decoy flare that blinds people from the real missiles being fired at their freedom and sanity.
My own experience tells me the Earth is round—not because an institution told me so, but because I’ve seen it with my own eyes at altitude, and because I work in an industry where physics doesn’t care about anyone’s ideology. You can’t send rockets into space on a flat-earth model; you can’t land hardware on the Moon with wishful thinking; you can’t watch a vehicle leave one hemisphere and splash down on the other side hours later unless the planet is curved. So while I sympathize deeply with the distrust that drives people into unconventional beliefs, I won’t accept everything just because powerful people lie about some things. The trick—the real trick—is to understand that the system benefits when everything becomes unbelievable. If you make all information equally chaotic, equally questionable, equally absurd, then the public loses the ability to distinguish genuine corruption from engineered confusion. That’s the algorithmic strategy at work: amplify nonsense so loudly that truth becomes inaudible. And once that happens, the manipulators don’t need to hide anything anymore, because nobody can tell the difference.
Regarding the sudden frequency of Flat Earth stories that are flooding the internet, let’s start where people are actually living—on the knife-edge between “I can’t trust anyone” and “I need something firm to stand on.” After COVID, many good people feel the world really let them down. Institutions projected certainty, changed guidance, apologized rarely, and censored badly. Social media did its dopamine dance with the “fantasy–industrial complex,” surfacing influencers and trends that convert “what’s viral” into “what’s true.” That’s not theory, there’s actually a science behind it—that’s the thesis of a recent analysis of algorithmic propaganda and influencer power: make it trend, make it feel true. [1] 1 And what trends today? Flat earth. Young earth. Giants under the mounds. Antarctica is for no one because everyone secretly owns it. NASA is occult because Jack Parsons loved Crowley. Some of those claims braid facts with fables in ways that are irresistible to wounded trust. Others are pure noise. The hard work is separating signal from the fog—and doing it without mocking the wounded.
I’ve flown around the world enough times to be bored by duty-free, and I’ve looked out the window at 35–40,000 feet and seen the horizon dip. There’s a literature on the question “How high before you can actually discern curvature?” It’s not magic; it’s geometry, optics, and the field of view. Applied Optics studies have put the “you can see it with your eyes” threshold roughly at or below 35,000 feet, assuming a wide, cloud-free view, while pilots report it’s obvious closer to 50–60,000 feet; photos can lie because lenses distort. [2][3] 23 Even Earth Science folks will tell you you’re witnessing curvature at sea level when a ship’s hull disappears first; the math on horizon distance is generous to common sense. [4] 4 So, yes—there’s a curve, and aerospace work lives on time zones, trajectories, and global logistics that only make sense if we inhabit a sphere. Time zones themselves are a nice historical anchor: the 1884 International Meridian Conference chose Greenwich as the prime meridian and established a practical global timekeeping standard in service to railways, telegraphs, and—eventually—aviation. [5][6][7][8] 5678
Still, I get why Flat Earth finds oxygen. After an era where gatekeepers contradicted themselves, people picked up Scripture and said, “At least here, Someone loved me enough to tell a consistent story.” I don’t begrudge that. In fact, I like that more people are reading the Bible. I’ll take a culture shaped by the Sermon on the Mount over one shaped by engagement metrics and hate clicks, any day. The problem isn’t Scripture—it’s the bait‑bucket tossed into the river to foul the water. Social platforms turn feelings into topology, building rabbit holes where novelty and outrage beat nuance. Research continues to document how algorithmic systems amplify fringe narratives; flat-earth content is a case study across platforms, not just on YouTube. [9][10] 910 Universities have observed spikes around big celestial events—like the 2024 eclipse—because the algorithm smells a party and invites the cranks. [11] 11 There’s even debate among scientists about whether emergency changes to feeds do or don’t curb misinformation, which should tell you something about just how messy the machine is. [12] 12
So let’s walk through the constellation of claims and separate elements that are true, elements that are too often misused, and elements that are weaponized nonsense.
Jack Parsons first. Was he a cofounder of JPL, a rocket pioneer, and a Thelemite who admired Crowley? Yes. That’s the historical record. [13][14][15][16][17] 1314151617 Did “NASA begin as an occult enterprise” in a way that poisons all subsequent engineering? No. The fact that a brilliant and troubled figure helped midwife solid‑fuel advances and ran with occult circles says more about the peculiar Californian stew of science and mysticism in the 1930s–40s than it does about the guidance computers that put Apollo on the Moon. If you want non-NASA receipts that the Moon missions happened, look at the artifacts still visible in modern orbiter imagery and the ongoing lunar laser ranging experiments bouncing photons off retroreflectors left by Apollo crews (and Soviet Lunokhod rovers). [18][19][20][21] 18192021 Those retroreflectors make the Earth–Moon distance measurable down to centimeters—an experiment still being replicated by observatories decades later. This isn’t “trust us,” it’s physics your own team can instrument. [22] 22
Antarctica next. Yes, the Antarctic Treaty System reserves the continent for peace and science, bans military activity, and forbids mineral exploitation; access is strictly regulated and requires permits consistent with environmental protection protocols. [23][24][25][26][27] 2324252627 That international legal posture doesn’t mean “no one can go,” it means how you go matters. Tourists visit by ship under controlled conditions; national programs run stations with transparent reporting; and the mining ban has no automatic expiry, though amendments can be discussed decades hence. [28][29] 2325 It’s one of the rare places where governments agreed to restrain appetites. Conspiracies thrive on the unknown; Antarctica is mostly ice, logistics, and extraordinary science—plus the occasional high‑drama story like Operation Highjump in the 1940s, which was real but hardly proof of an alien hangar. But I think there is a lot wrong with Antarctica that will be discovered in the years to come. [30] 24
Giants and mounds in Ohio—now we’re home. I love the mounds. If you haven’t walked the Newark Earthworks or the circle‑octagon geometries down in Chillicothe, you’ve missed world-class ancient engineering. UNESCO recognized the Hopewell Ceremonial Earthworks in 2023 as a World Heritage Site for a reason: these are precise, cosmic-aligned earth monuments built 1,600–2,000 years ago, with trade connections spanning Yellowstone to Florida. [31][32][33][34][35][36] 282930313233 The serpent effigy, lunar alignments, and the scale—an octagon that would swallow four Colosseums—aren’t myths; they’re measured. [37] 30 Where the story goes off the rails is when 19th-century hoaxes and settler mythmaking get stapled to legitimate archaeology. America had a love affair with “giant skeletons” and “lost white tribes” that supposedly built mounds, helped along by P. T. Barnum-style frauds and credulous newspapers. Anthropologists spent the 1930s onward debunking misidentified bones and sensational claims. [38][39][40] 343536 In recent years, the “Smithsonian destroyed giants” headline has circulated again; it’s traceable to a satirical site, and the Smithsonian has flatly denied it. [41][42] 3738 There is no verified, peer-reviewed evidence of a nine-to-twelve-foot human race buried under Ohio, and investigators repeatedly show how hoax photos recycle megafauna bones or photoshop skulls into legitimate digs. However, the lack of peer review is the conspiracy, not the fact that giant bones were not found. Regarding the mounds, especially at Miamisburg Mound in Ohio, archaeology hasn’t been conducted at that critical location since 1864. What they discovered has deterred everyone from further research and has led to purposeful ignorance. [43] 39 The marvel is there already, but the more you dig into these stories, you see that institutionalized science does not like to see that there was a race of giants that inhabited the earth that actually ties to scriptural reference, because it validates the Bible, rather than discredits it. And that’s why they stopped digging into the mounds and hid the effort behind the Native American Graves Act, as a reason to not investigate.
Now, Scripture. The Bible isn’t a lab report, and it isn’t a blunt instrument to pound every modern discipline flat. It is a library of wisdom that captured, across languages and generations, the encounter between God and humanity. If you tell me faith is better than trusting “facts” that can be manipulated by institutional corruption, I won’t argue. Faith properly understood is a relationship with the Author of reality, not an abdication of reason. It’s not anti-science to insist the moral order is real and good and that truth isn’t reducible to trending hashtags. Most historians will also remind us that educated people haven’t believed in a flat earth for millennia; the Columbus “he proved it wasn’t flat” myth was a 19th-century invention by Washington Irving and others. [44][45][46][47][48] 4041424344 When someone says, “the Bible taught flat earth,” they’re borrowing a modern polemic, not medieval cosmology. A robust faith doesn’t need fake enemies.
COVID changed the rules of engagement. Platforms were suddenly asked to police truth at scale. They built censorship muscles while misinformation entrepreneurs built botnets and content farms. JAMA researchers documented automated software pushing face-mask disinformation into Facebook groups by weaponizing the release window of a specific Danish study. [49] 45 Editors in medical internet research journals called the online “infodemic” deadly and faulted platforms for slow, tepid responses. [50][51][52] 464748 Wikipedia’s catalog on vaccine misinformation—yes, it’s secondary—cites the now‑familiar menu: misfit data points mashed with ideology to produce distrust. [53] 49 The consequence is not merely political; it’s spiritual. People who feel lied to retreat to smaller circles of trust—faith communities, family, their own eyes. Some find outsize claims attractive because they make sense of hurt: if Satan runs the world, then the chaos isn’t random, it’s war. I’ll grant the war. But war requires discipline.
Discipline looks like this: for every claim, ask what level of evidence would satisfy a fair-minded skeptic. Moon landings? Physical artifacts, independent imaging, and live experiments—done. [54][55][56][57] 18201921 Earth’s shape? Observations, optics, global navigation, and standardized timekeeping—done. [58][59][60] 425 Antarctica? Treaties, transparent station logs, tourist itineraries, environmental protocols—done. [61][62][63] 232425 Mounds? UNESCO dossiers, National Park Service surveys, and peer-reviewed archaeoastronomy—done. [64][65][66] 283029 Giants? Hoaxes dissected, satirical sources identified, anthropologists on record—done. [67][68][69] 373435 Parsons? Biographies across Britannica and Caltech journalism—done. [70][71] 1350
What remains are human hearts—mine, yours, the folks online. Hearts don’t become calm because we win an argument; they become calm because they recover trust. And you don’t rebuild trust just by yelling “fact!” across a room. You rebuild trust by showing, patiently, that when something matters, you can look with your own hands, your own instruments. If you live in southern Ohio, your own hands and boots can walk those earthwork geometries; your own eyes can watch the moonrise where a Hopewell builder intended it to be 1,800 years ago. [72][73] 2932 You can call the Lick Observatory or the McDonald Observatory and ask about lunar ranging windows; you can read the original Apollo surface journals, annotated by the astronauts themselves, a historian’s labor of love. [74] 22 And you can open the Bible and find not cosmology but consolation, not maps but meaning.
Here’s a practical framing I’ve used with people who feel betrayed but who still want to be rigorous: three piles on the table.
Pile One—“True and Useful.” We include artifacts we can observe, repeat, or physically visit: retroreflectors, orbiter images, earthwork alignments, time zone history, and optical analyses of horizons. [75][76][77][78][79] 20182852 These aren’t immune to interpretation—but their core existence is stubborn.
Pile Two—“True but Treacherous.” Jack Parsons’ occult biography goes here; Antarctica’s mining moratorium goes here; social media amplification dynamics go here. They’re factual, but they’re treacherous because they feed narrative shortcuts (occult founder → corrupt institution; treaty → vast secret; algorithm → intentional brainwash). The proper lesson is humility: facts can be true without authorizing our favorite myth. [80][81][82] 13259
Pile Three—“Noisy and Harmful.” Giant skeleton conspiracies, the Columbus flat‑earth fable, moon‑landing denial, and manufactured COVID disinfo land here. They waste attention and erode trust in good things. [83][84][85][86] 37405145
You’ll notice I didn’t put Scripture in any pile. Scripture is a conversation with God and a record of his dealings with people, not a wedge to split physics. You can be the person who insists on both fidelity and evidence. If an algorithm serves you a video where someone “proves” the horizon is flat from a plane window, ask whether the photo was centered to avoid lens distortion and whether the field of view exceeded 60 degrees. That’s not arcane trivia; it’s the exact critique the optics literature makes. [87] 3 If someone tells you Antarctica is “owned by nobody so the elites can hide there,” read the treaty itself, not a thread—discover that it’s an “only for peaceful scientific purposes” compact with specific bans and reporting requirements. [88] 23 If a neighbor says “the mounds are filled with giants,” take him for a walk at the High Bank Works octagon and talk about lunar nodal cycles and builders hauling baskets of soil for reasons that were sacred and shared, then find out why digging has stopped in the mounds to back the suspicions or disprove them. [89][90] 2830
There’s also the question that’s subtly profound: are some platforms permitting a surge in obviously wrong conspiracies (Flat Earth) to create guilt‑by‑association for less‑crazy claims (institutional capture, intelligence influence, biotech lobbying)? It’s a fair suspicion. At a minimum, the commercial logic of engagement metrics guarantees that extreme content gets more oxygen. Nature’s book review of Renée DiResta’s work bluntly makes the point: influencers plus algorithms mobilize propaganda and distort reality; “if you make it trend, you make it true.” [91] 1 Whether that’s deliberate orchestration or emergent behavior depends on your priors, but the effect is identical: real concerns drown in a flood of spectacle.
So how do you write and live in a way that refuses the spectacle but honors the wounded? Here are a few rules I’ve found that apply.
Rule #1: Start with what you can touch. If it’s the Moon, shoot lasers. If it’s the earthworks, pace the baselines and check the azimuths. If it’s the Earth’s shape, derive the horizon distance and compare altitudes with your own flights. [92][93][94] 19284
Rule #2: Track the history of the myth. Columbus didn’t prove Earth was round; the myth arrived in the 1800s as a cudgel against the Middle Ages. [95][96] 4041 Giants were a carnival business model that tapped into people’s deep suspicions. [97] 35
Rule #3: Acknowledge the true emotional core. People aren’t crazy to distrust. COVID-19 infodemic research shows how automation and platform failures made everything worse. [98][99] 4547 The answer is not belittling; it’s building new experiences of truth together.
Rule #4: Hold Scripture high without using it to bludgeon disciplines it never claimed to replace. Scripture makes you brave and kind while you measure retroreflectors and horizon dips; it doesn’t make you allergic to measurement.
Rule #5: When algorithms trend a circus, choose a pilgrimage. Drive to Hopeton. Stand at Fort Ancient’s overlook. Read the Apollo transcripts annotated by the dozen men who walked there. [100][101][102] 332822
Imagine a night at McDonald Observatory in Texas. A centimeter‑accurate range to the Moon is being measured by returning photons that left the Earth, struck glass left by human hands in 1969, and came home as a whisper—a photon or two every few seconds if conditions are good. [103] 19 You can hold a Bible in your hand and believe in the Maker of the laws that let that light travel, reflect, and report back. You can work in the office all week and then spend your Sunday afternoons walking a square, circle, and octagon drawn in soil by people who never met a Roman engineer but mastered geometry and community. [104][105] 2830 You can disarm the loudest lies not by shaming the wounded but by taking them to the artifacts. Sometimes the best rebuttal is a road trip. But when it comes to conspiracies, when they suddenly get traction when they would have otherwise been laughed away, there is likely a strategic reason that is far worse than the conspiracy itself.
—
Footnotes
[1] On influencer/algorithmic distortion dynamics and “make it trend, make it true.” 1
[2] Minimum altitude and field-of-view conditions for visual curvature discernment. 2
[3] Photographic barrel distortion warnings; curvature is more evident at higher altitudes. 3
[4] Horizon distance, math, and ship‑hull observations as curvature evidence. 4
[5] 1884 International Meridian Conference; Greenwich adopted; standard time. 5
[6] CFR analysis on the significance of global time standardization. 6
[7] Timeanddate history of time zones (railway/telegraph drivers). 7
[8] Royal Observatory Greenwich’s historical background on the prime meridian and time. 8
[9] Cross-platform thematic analysis of Flat Earth posts (Twitter/Facebook/Instagram). 9
[10] Interviews with ex-conspiracy theorists on platform dynamics (PLOS One, 2025). 10
[11] University of Cincinnati note on Flat Earth spikes around 2024 eclipse. 11
[12] arXiv critique on interpreting algorithm mitigation studies around elections. 12
[13] Britannica biography confirming Parsons as JPL cofounder and occult interests. 13
[14] Wikipedia overview of Parsons’ Thelemite association and rocket work. 14
[15] Space Safety Magazine on Parsons’ occult and engineering legacy. 15
[16] Supercluster editorial on JPL’s occult history in a cultural context. 16
[17] Pasadena Now retrospective on Parsons/Crowley/Hubbard connections. 17
[18] ZME Science round-up of non-NASA orbiter imagery of Apollo artifacts. 18
[19] Space.com explainer on Apollo retroreflectors and ongoing ranging. 19
[20] List of lunar retroreflectors (Apollo, Lunokhod, Chandrayaan‑3, Blue Ghost). 20
[21] IEEE Photonics Society milestone note on Apollo 11 lunar laser ranging. 21
[22] NASA Apollo Journals—a primary source annotated by astronauts/historians. 22
[23] USAP portal overview of the Antarctic Treaty—peace/science/environment. 23
[101] NPS overview—eight Hopewell sites; UNESCO context. 28
[102] NASA Apollo Journals—astronaut annotations. 22
[103] Space.com—photon counts returning from lunar arrays. 19
[104] Hopewell site details—geometry and alignments. 29
[105] National Geographic—scale of octagon/circle; sacred context. 30
—
Bibliography
• Antarctica & Treaties: USAP Portal, The Antarctic Treaty; Wikipedia, Antarctic Treaty System; Kempf, N., The Antarctic Mineral Moratorium (Brill, 2025); IFREMER OOS Congress 2025 paper on ATS & Madrid Protocol. 23242527
• Algorithms & Misinformation: Nature review of DiResta (2024); arXiv e-letter on Facebook algorithms (2024); SBP‑BRiMS 2024 Flat Earth cross-platform study; PLOS One interviews with ex-conspiracy theorists (2025). 112910
• COVID Infodemic: JAMA Internal Medicine mask misinformation letter (2021); JMIR editorial (2022); Springer dataset aggregation study (2022/2024); Wikipedia overview (contextual). 45474849
• Earth’s Curvature & Time: Lynch, Applied Optics (2008) and Thule Scientific PDF; Earth Science Stack Exchange horizon calculations; International Meridian Conference history; CFR blog; Timeanddate; Royal Observatory Greenwich. 2345678
• Hopewell Earthworks: NPS Hopewell pages; Hopewell Ceremonial Earthworks official site; National Geographic feature; Atlas Obscura/Conversation on Newark & Serpent; Wikipedia HOCU overview. 2829303231
• Giants & Hoaxes: Snopes; PolitiFact; Discover Magazine; USA Today fact check; Wikipedia Giant human skeletons. 3738353634
Politics used to be about buying your way onto the field with whatever the old media would let you run; now it’s a multi-front dialogue with voters in a thousand micro‑channels you can’t bully, buy, or badger. That’s precisely why the Butler County Republican Party’s endorsement for the 2026 commissioner race matters more than the yard‑sign arms race or a late sprint of cable buys. The party met and took a hard look at candidates and momentum, then endorsed Michael Ryan, the Hamilton vice mayor and former two-term councilman, with 71% of the vote—a landslide in intraparty terms and a signal that the center of gravity has moved.1
Now, Michael’s not a surprise. He telegraphed this run early, skipped a safe third council term to go county-wide, and built a coalition that looks like the next decade of Republican leadership rather than the last. The local press documented the pivot: he pulled petitions in May 2025 and argued that county policy needs someone who can assemble teams, manage a large budget, and negotiate growth while keeping conservative guardrails intact. The Journal‑News laid out the framing: Butler County’s annual budget sits near $500 million, which is not far off Hamilton’s total because the city runs utilities—so a Ryan résumé of budget discipline and project delivery isn’t a stretch to scale.2
Meanwhile, what makes an endorsement decisive isn’t just math inside a party meeting; it’s the psychology of trust outside it. Voters aren’t shopping for saviors; they’re looking for steady hands who can do the table talk, bring coalition politics back from bloodsport, and keep the county in the black while the national mood whipsaws. Michael’s case is that he’s done that already—eight years on council, two stints as vice mayor, a list of jobs recruited, investments landed. If you want to see his pitch in his own words, his site stacks the receipts—balanced budgets, 1,400 new jobs, $700 million in capital investment—and shows a broad bench of local Republican endorsements from state senator George Lang to sitting city council members across the county. If you view campaign websites skeptically (good habit), remember that the basic resume points have been corroborated and referenced in local coverage.32
Roger Reynolds is the wild card—and yes, I have supported him in the past for other fights—but this seat, this season, isn’t the right battlefield. He’s well‑known, to be sure. His 2022 felony conviction over unlawful interest in a public contract was overturned in 2024 by the Twelfth District Court of Appeals, and the Ohio Supreme Court refused to disturb that reversal; that’s an essential legal clearance. But the same Supreme Court opinion blocked him from reclaiming the auditor’s office he’d won in 2022, clarifying he can run again in the future, not retroactively retake the seat. He’s used that clean bill of eligibility to jump into this commissioner race in 2026.45
Here’s where the political calculus cuts sharply: being legally eligible isn’t the same as being politically restored. Voters have long memories; they remember the courtroom saga even if the headline at the end credits “overturned.” The Enquirer summarized the timeline cleanly—indictment, a single felony conviction on the Lakota angle, subsequent reversal, and the present campaign posture. That’s nothing; it’s the kind of backstory that makes your consultants salivate over message discipline and makes your donors jittery about whether a million dollars in signs and mailers can buy back normalcy. And, on top of that, the first skirmish of 2026 was a legal “cease” letter from Reynolds’s counsel to Ryan over campaign statements—“normal campaign bickering,” Reynolds said—but it sets a tone. If your brand promise is “100% positive campaign,” you don’t want week one to be a lawyerly demand letter and a press cycle about “defamation.” That’s oxygen you don’t get back.6
So let’s talk yard signs, because politicians who plan a resurrection often think in terms of saturating real estate with their names, then buying enough broadcast to push past the whispers. Butler County’s population sits around 400,000 people; the geographic sprawl and the number of micro‑communities—from Liberty and West Chester to Hamilton, Fairfield, Middletown, Oxford, and the townships—means your sign budget leaks. People steal them, wind takes them, HOAs yank them. You replace and replace, and your spending ends up as a weekly chore. I don’t care if you’ve earmarked $125,000 or double that; you won’t beat an endorsement plus a ground game in honest conversations across civic slots. The Journal‑News reported the early posture: Ryan’s petitions were certified mid‑2025; Reynolds announced and described the election as a referendum on fiscal discipline rather than “courtroom drama,” but the party’s endorsement last week says rank-and-file Republicans aren’t buying the “just the future” frame. They picked the coalition builder, not the comeback.71
Now, about Cindy Carpenter. She has been on the board since 2011 and is seeking another term. Longevity usually earns deference, but not automatic endorsement. The county’s official page lists her current term running through December 31, 2026; that’s the seat this primary decides.8 And she walked into 2026 with a fresh controversy: the Oxford apartment office incident involving her granddaughter’s rent dispute, a flipped middle finger on video, and accusations of “racist” remarks that the prosecutor ultimately said did not amount to wrongdoing, though he wrote her conduct was “distasteful and beneath her elected position.” You can parse tone and motive all day; the legal piece is settled—no charges and the matter closed—but voters see the tape and the headlines. That’s enough to move marginal supporters toward the more predictable alternative.91011
If you’re counting coalition math, the endorsement vote margin—71%—is not a nudge; it’s a shove. Nancy Nix, now the county auditor, reportedly attended the endorsement meeting and confirmed the tally. In a county where winning the GOP primary is often tantamount to winning in November, a unified endorsement improves fundraising and volunteer energy. It also narrows the “independent” lane for a sitting commissioner who didn’t get the nod. If Carpenter runs without the party’s backing, as some have suggested she might, she’ll need a ballot strategy that reintroduces herself as a pragmatic caretaker, not an insurgent. That’s a hard sell after fifteen years in office and a fresh headline about “inappropriate gesture.”1
What does the “post‑MAGA” Republican center look like in Butler County? It seems less like a purity test and more like a competence test married to coalition instincts. The culture war isn’t over, but voters have learned the cost of gridlock and personality feuds in local government. Ryan’s style—steady, pragmatic, pro-growth, minimalist on mudslinging—fits that mood. Even the critiques thrown at him (“stepping stone,” says Carpenter) sound antique in a county where younger Republicans have already moved into leadership slots in councils and school boards. The Journal’s News coverage links Ryan’s Hamilton résumé to county-wide feasibility: he’s worked with local, state, and federal decision-makers on public safety and infrastructure, and even served as a liaison for the Amtrak stop push in Hamilton. Those are not ideological fantasies; they’re governing tasks where people skills matter.2
And yes, campaigns need money. Ryan’s fundraising velocity looks like a candidate with broad buy-in—events across the county and a donor list that isn’t just from one township. Whether it’s $100,000 in the bank now or double that soon, the point isn’t how many mailers you can print; it’s how many doors you can knock with volunteers who believe you’ll answer their emails after you win. The county GOP endorsement helps there; donors prefer campaigns that aren’t about to splinter the party. Meanwhile, Reynolds ‘ suggestion that he’ll spend heavily—to the tune of six figures and perhaps beyond—won’t fix the core problem: a campaign that starts by relitigating perception rather than proposing coalitions. The Enquirer’s report on his launch emphasized his intent to return “windfall” property tax revenue to taxpayers and raise the Homestead Exemption; those are policy planks that will attract attention. But they’re competing against a party coalescing around a candidate who can execute a full agenda without dragging legal undertones into every meeting.51
Let’s zoom out into strategy—because if I were advising Reynolds, I wouldn’t tell him to burn $250,000 on a race he’s likely to lose by 12‑15 points after the endorsement lands and consolidates. I’d say to him to rebuild his brand across the map: show up for other candidates, be helpful, become indispensable in the trenches, help elect school board members and trustees, and re-establish the “workhorse, not lightning rod” identity. That takes two years; it doesn’t show up in six months. And then consider a race aligned with your strengths and your arc, not a head-on collision with a party that just voted for someone else overwhelmingly. The Journal-News article, calling the 2026 commissioner contest “off and running,” captured the vibe—three Republicans, but only one whose petitions were already certified, who positioned the race as “no distractions.” That kind of language puts the burden on the other two to explain why their distractions are the voters’ problem.7
As for Carpenter, I don’t think she’s a villain; I think she’s a discovered Democrat. I guess longevity breeds muscle memory: you reach for authority instead of coalition. Voters can forgive that once, even twice, if the essentials are stable—roads paved, budgets balanced, ops quiet. But the moment a county commissioner’s name becomes shorthand for “that clip,” you lose the institutional halo and become another “brand management” project. When the prosecutor writes that your conduct didn’t rise to misconduct but was “unseemly for a person in her governmental capacity,” he has foreclosed the legal fight and opened the political one. That line will be in mailers whether you like it or not.9
So let’s talk about why Michael Ryan is getting the oxygen. Take Hamilton’s decade: Spooky Nook, industrial recruitment, hotels, restaurants, and an intentional move to professionalize the city’s growth narrative. The projects drew coverage on Local 12 and WCPO as they moved from idea to construction. Ryan’s campaign site links those stories because they’re public record and because they demonstrate a pattern—jobs, capital investment, and a tax base that didn’t need a culture‑war siren to grow. That’s not fantasy; it’s visible on the ground.3
And that gets to the key point: trust and unity. You want commissioners who can assemble teams and get people to work together. The post‑MAGA Republican mood isn’t anti-passion; it’s anti-drama. Politics will always draw blood—that’s built into the incentives—but we’re past the phase where you win by keeping enemies. You win by maintaining coalitions. Ryan’s tenure has been, in my experience, the kind of steady hand that translates across jurisdictions. That’s why the endorsement reads: “We choose execution over excavation.”1
Will this primary be clean? Cleanish. Reynolds has already put legal heat on a rival over statements; Carpenter has already been under an investigative microscope for the Oxford dispute. Ryan said from the start he’d run forward, not backward. If he holds that line, he wins the contrast without throwing punches. Voters know what negative looks like; a candidate who doesn’t need it earns an advantage. The Journal‑noted that he’s focusing on county work while stepping away from a sure council reelection this past year underscored the seriousness. He isn’t auditioning; he’s already governing at scale and wants a bigger toolbox.12
Budget posture matters here, too. Reynolds’ webpage and statements emphasize returning “excess” taxes and trimming county-wide spending; that resonates with conservatives who see reserves as proof of over‑taxation. The Enquirer quoted his figure—$165 million in projected windfall—to argue the county should give it back. That’s a message built to win in a vacuum. But the county is not a vacuum; it is pipelines, roads, courts, human services, and emergency management in a region with real growth pressures. The choice isn’t “tax or freedom”; it’s “how do you scale skillfully and still protect the taxpayer?” Ryan’s resume suggests a bias toward growth with discipline; Reynolds’s indicates a bias toward tax rebate with enforcement. That’s a healthy debate. The question is whether you want that debate led by a figure whose first month of campaign coverage includes legal letters and remembrance of overturned convictions.5
At the end of the day, endorsements don’t vote; people do. But endorsements shape who knocks doors with a smile, who makes phone calls with energy, and who shows up at the farmers’ market with a candidate they’ll vouch for. The Butler County GOP made this easy for the average Republican: the party chose the coalition builder and did it decisively. Signage will follow; donors will align; volunteers will multiply. Carpenter, running as an independent (if that’s where this heads), faces a map where the party she’s long identified with chose another standard-bearer. Reynolds, running as a revenge tour, spends a lot of money to test whether yard signs can outshout a decade’s worth of narrative. I don’t think they can. If he asked me privately, I’d advise him to pause, help the team, and come back when the story is about contribution, not correction. The early legal dust-up with Ryan over “defamation” is precisely the kind of oxygen leak you can’t repair with cash.6
Michael Ryan’s advantage isn’t charisma or cash; it’s consistency and coalition—the dull virtues that win in local government and keep winning after you’re sworn in. He has stayed on message, prep’d the county for his arrival by reminding voters of outcomes they can touch—jobs, buildings, budget discipline—and signaled that commissioners should convene, not crusade. When you have that many people who have worked with you and still like you, politics gets easy. You can negotiate without a knife on the table and tell a thousand small stories about how a problem got solved without making enemies. That’s why he looks like the future of the county’s Republican leadership—the brand that doesn’t need apologetics when the cameras are off.23
So yes, celebrate the endorsement. It’s a coalition announcement more than a party ritual: Butler County Republicans chose a governing style. If the election maps break the usual way—primary decides most of November—this nod might be the moment future voters remember as the pivot. Every county needs the next wave of steady hands; every township needs trustees who can form a quorum without fireworks; every school board needs members who can stare down budget math and still make curriculum decisions. That cascade begins with visible wins and ends with a bench you can count on. We need more Michael Ryans, not fewer. And if you’re Roger Reynolds and you want redemption, the path isn’t paved with yard signs. It’s paved with other people’s wins that you helped engineer. Build that for two years, and you’ll be viable in 2028 for a race that fits. Try to sprint through a primary you’ve already lost in the court of party morale, and you’ll spend a quarter‑million dollars to learn a lesson you could have learned for free.71
As for voters: enjoy that your choice might be easy. You don’t often get a three-way intraparty field where one candidate looks like the obvious governing adult and doesn’t need mud to make his case. If you want to vote happy—if that’s allowed in local politics—this might be your chance. You’ll be voting for a county commissioner who can take Butler County’s good run and extend it without asking for a personality cult or a tear-jerking redemption arc. He’s advertised as who he is: a nice guy who knows how to put the right people at the table and get to yes. Michael Ryan is the Republican Party-endorsed candidate for county commissioner, and we are lucky to have him.
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Footnotes
1. “County GOP backs new face for commissioner over incumbent … Ryan won with 71% of the vote,” summary of Cincinnati.com/Enquirer reporting via WorldNews mirror (Jan. 10, 2026).1
2. Hamilton councilman Ryan to run for Butler County Commission; budget scale context and résumé highlights (Journal‑News, May 19, 2025).2
3. Michael Ryan campaign website: résumé, endorsements, economic development links (accessed Jan. 11, 2026).3
4. Supreme Court of Ohio: Reynolds cannot be restored to the Auditor post after reversal; eligible to run in the future (Court News Ohio, Sept. 25, 2024).4
5. “After overturned conviction, ex‑auditor runs for county commissioner,” (Cincinnati Enquirer, Sept. 8, 2025).5
6. “Cease‑and‑desist letter issued to Butler County commissioner candidate,” legal exchange between Reynolds and Ryan (Journal‑News, Jan. 6, 2026).6
7. Butler County official page: Cindy Carpenter’s current term dates (bcohio.gov).8
8. Prosecutor clears Cindy Carpenter of misconduct; characterization as “unseemly” and “distasteful” (Journal‑News, Dec. 3, 2025).9
9. Enquirer coverage: Oxford apartment office incident; video clip and manager’s allegation vs. prosecutor’s findings (Dec. 4, 2025).1011
10. “Commission race drawing large crowd from GOP”—field composition and early posture (Journal‑News, Sept. 15, 2025).7
11. Journal‑News election‑season context on Ryan focusing on county run rather than council re-elect (Oct. 26, 2025).12
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Bibliography
• Cincinnati Enquirer. “After overturned conviction, ex‑auditor runs for county commissioner.” Sept. 8, 2025.5
• Court News Ohio. “County Auditor Will Not Be Restored to Office Following Acquittal From Felony.” Sept. 25, 2024.4
• Journal‑News (Cox, Ohio). “Hamilton councilman Ryan to run for Butler County Commission.” May 19, 2025.2
• Journal‑News. “Commission race drawing large crowd from GOP.” Sept. 15, 2025.7
• Journal‑News. “Cease‑and‑desist letter issued to Butler County commissioner candidate.” Jan. 6, 2026.6
• Journal‑News. “Prosecutor clears Butler County commissioner of misconduct after apartment dispute.” Dec. 3, 2025.9
• Butler County Government (bcohio.gov). “Commissioner Cindy Carpenter—term information.” Accessed Jan. 11, 2026.8
• Ryan for Butler County Commissioner (ryanforbutler.com). Accessed Jan. 11, 2026.3
• WorldNews aggregation of Cincinnati.com report. “County GOP backs new face for commissioner over incumbent.” Jan. 10, 2026 (used for endorsement vote figure as reported by attendees).1
Republicans are cutting themselves short on the midterms playing on their back feet when in truth, they have won all the seats, and should use that to club the enemy over the head, the Democrats. And people should not be fearful of Islam expansion, because there is a science to it that can be dealt with. Don’t be afraid, learn to spike the football on the face of your enemy. And be sure to call your enemy, the enemy. Stop trying to make peace with everyone and be nice. People don’t like nice, they like winners! People don’t join groups, movements, or relationships because of policy white papers or perfectly calibrated moral sermons; they join because something in that collective—or person—promises to resolve anxiety and deliver victory. In eras of uncertainty, strength signals beat gentleness signals. Across political movements, religious sects, and even intimate relationships, the mechanism isn’t mystical. It is psychological. Decades of evidence show that when identity feels threatened or vague, people gravitate toward clarity, power, and “winners.” They seek what social psychologists call a reduction of self‑uncertainty through group identification. Groups that feel directive, morally certain, and combative—especially those with a strong leader—are unusually effective at providing that clarity. That dynamic is the heart of the appeal of aggressive movements, whether they’re framed as “revolutionary” or “restorative.” 123
The first mechanism is the quest for significance. Arie Kruglanski’s work shows that individuals who feel humiliated, overlooked, or stalled are primed to seek a pathway to mattering—status, honor, and belonging. When a narrative says, “You will be part of the team that wins,” and a network validates that promise, the psychological mixture becomes combustible; ordinary people can shift quickly from passive frustration to active militancy if militancy is framed as the quickest way to regain significance. In that sense, “victory marketing” isn’t crude; it’s efficient. It supplies a meaning‑laden road to restored pride and shared triumph. 45
Kruglanski’s “3Ns”—Needs, Narratives, and Networks—explain the stickiness. The Need is mattering; the Narrative names the enemy and sanctifies aggression as the efficient route to success; the Network rewards loyalists and shames doubters. A coalition that stops signaling decisive action and begins projecting compromise and perpetual process loses the Narrative’s punch and the Network’s reinforcement. Members then shop elsewhere for a more satisfying story that promises to end the anxiety and restore status. That is why movements that pivot from attack postures to “conciliation tours” often hemorrhage energy even if the conciliatory strategy is prudent. The psychology underneath doesn’t reward caution; it rewards visible strength coupled to a clear plan to win. 67
A second mechanism is uncertainty‑identity. Michael Hogg’s theory demonstrates that when life feels unpredictable and identity feels unstable, people prefer groups with sharp boundaries, simple norms, and strong leaders. These structures reduce cognitive noise. If the leader projects authority, punishes dissent, and speaks in unambiguous terms about enemies and goals, the group’s identity feels more protective. That dynamic pushes people toward “extreme” groups when uncertainty spikes, and it also raises the preference for authoritarian leadership styles over deliberative, pluralist ones. Strength performs an emotional function: it tells anxious people who they are and what tomorrow looks like. 13
There’s a third layer: mortality and threat management. Terror‑management theory finds that reminders of vulnerability and death (from pandemics to wars to rising crime) make people defend their cultural worldviews more fiercely and prefer charismatic, dominant leaders who promise safety and greatness. In plain speech: fear nudges voters and joiners toward coalitions that sound fearless. Combine existential fear with identity uncertainty, and the loudest actor who projects dominance gets disproportionate attention—even if their policy depth is thin. When the gentle coalition talks mostly about reconciliation, it can accidentally sound like it lacks the courage and teeth necessary to protect the group’s survival, and anxious members drift toward whoever sounds prepared to fight. 89
Once you see these mechanisms, the appeal of aggressive movements becomes less mysterious. Social identity theory long ago showed that people enhance self‑esteem by favoring their in‑group over out‑groups; minimally defined groups will still tilt benefits toward themselves and exaggerate the difference with outsiders. If a movement paints itself as the victorious in‑group—“the team that will win the season”—members will accept stricter norms and harsher rhetoric because those serve the higher good of restoring collective status. The social reward is belonging to the winning jersey. 1011
That’s why “strength signals” matter more than we admit. Populism research finds that the subset of supporters drawn to majoritarian dominance and rule‑bending “strongman” solutions isn’t driven primarily by anti‑elitism—it’s driven by authoritarian populist attitudes that equate decisive action with democracy and treat pluralist procedure as weakness. In multiple countries, support for strongmen tracks that authoritarian dimension, not the generic desire for change. If your coalition relies on being “reasonable,” it must still market victory—decisive goals achieved on tight timelines—and pair that with visible enforcement of norms; otherwise anxious supporters defect to a camp that promises a quicker, harder road to triumph. 1213
This dynamic isn’t limited to politics and broad movements. It appears right inside intimate relationships, especially abusive ones, where power and intermittent reinforcement create a paradoxical bond. Trauma‑bonding theory shows that when love and cruelty alternate unpredictably—affection after abuse, apology after rage—the victim’s attachment grows stronger, not weaker. The variable schedule of rewards keeps people “playing the slot machine,” hoping the good version returns, and the power imbalance cements the dependency. The abuser’s strength signal—decisive, dominating, controlling—reduces uncertainty even as it increases harm; the victim stays because the intermittent tenderness feels like proof that victory (a normal relationship) is just one more sacrifice away. That’s not a moral failing; it’s a learned behavioral trap proven to persist over time. 1415
Understanding that trap clarifies something about aggressive movements: they often combine harsh discipline with bursts of inclusion, celebration, and “love bombing.” The alternation is intoxicating. The movement frames devotion and sacrifice as steps toward the shared win—status restored, enemies humbled, order achieved. It’s the same cycle seen in abusive dyads but scaled to group psychology: tension, incident, reconciliation, calm; repeat. The unpredictability of reward strengthens loyalty, and the leader’s dominance minimizes the anxiety of choice. 1617
This lens also illuminates why some young people—including women—joined extremist projects like the Islamic State. Rigorous field interviews show a range of motives, but many revolve around significance, belonging, identity clarity, and a morally charged promise of victory against perceived humiliation. Researchers found Western women were attracted by roles in “state‑building,” the prospect of a clean slate, and a community with strict norms; women also became recruiters, using social media to broadcast the idealized version of purpose, honor, and victory. The ideology exploited the same psychology: a simple, rigid moral order, a strong, punitive leadership, a story of imminent triumph, and a network that validated sacrifice. That does not implicate all religious believers—most reject such extremism—but it shows how aggressive narratives can capture a subset seeking certainty and significance. 1819
Demography matters for how these perceptions play out. In the United States—and in large, culturally conservative states—Muslims remain a small share of adults, though they are growing modestly. For example, recent survey estimates suggest roughly 2% of adults in one large southern state identify as Muslim; nationally, Muslims remain a small minority, projected to grow but still far from majorities. That growth often triggers anxiety in groups that perceive status loss, which in turn increases receptivity to strength‑forward narratives. Responsible coalition‑building has to address the anxiety with facts and with visible competence—not with shame or soft language. People respond to leaders who demonstrate order and fairness, not just describe it. 2021
None of this means gentle leadership is doomed. It means gentle leadership must learn how to market victory and perform competence. Coalitions that want to hold members need three things: (1) a public scoreboard of wins, (2) an unapologetic enforcement of norms (consequence for defectors, gratitude for contributors), and (3) a narrative that places members inside a clear arc from struggle to triumph. That is exactly how the significance‑quest model works—and it can be used for good. If your coalition delivers visible wins and announces them like a championship season—“we hit the target, we corrected the failure, we defended someone who needed it”—the craving for strength is satisfied without sliding into cruelty. 45
The counterforce to aggressive movements is not moralizing; it is precision. Leaders can reduce uncertainty by setting unambiguous objectives, timelines, and roles, and then publishing weekly results. Hogg’s research implies that clarity plus boundary‑setting steals the psychological oxygen from extreme groups that promise certainty by punishing dissent. When members see that your coalition is a disciplined machine, the attraction to the noisy, punitive alternative declines. In practice, this looks like calendars, checklists, and a “no‑drift” culture—small wins stacked into momentum. That’s how you break the intermittent reinforcement cycle: replace unpredictability with reliable progress. 1
Finally, understand that collective narcissism—investing wounded self‑worth into a belief that the in‑group’s greatness is not appreciated—magnifies intergroup hostility. Movements that feed this sentiment will keep cohesion high by inventing provocations and promising cathartic revenge. Countering that requires two moves: regulate negative emotion inside the group (so grievances don’t become the group’s oxygen) and offer members a different path to significance—competence, craft, and contribution. When the pathway to mattering is building, not punishing, the coalition stabilizes around productive pride rather than fragile resentment. 2223
Put simply: people want to be on the team that wins. In periods of uncertainty and fear, they judge coalitions by how decisively they act, how tightly they enforce norms, and how clearly they promise victory. If the coalition sounds like a perpetual seminar—however noble its aims—its membership will drift toward movements that feel like a locker room right before a decisive game. “Strength sells” because it resolves anxiety, restores significance, and narrates a path to triumph. If you want to keep members, don’t just be right. Be strong, be clear, and keep score in public. And if the Republican Party wants to win the midterms, stop playing on your back feet. Attack the bad guys, make examples of them and show the world the path to being on the winning team. And everything will work out just fine.
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(Further reading and footnote anchors)
• Quest for Significance & Radicalization: Overviews of how personal significance, violent narratives, and validating networks interact to produce recruitment and commitment. 45
• Uncertainty‑Identity & Authoritarian Leadership: Evidence that self‑uncertainty increases attraction to distinctive groups and strong, directive leaders. 12
• Terror‑Management & Leader Preference: Mortality salience strengthens worldview defense and support for charismatic, dominant leadership. 89
• Social Identity & In‑group Favoritism: Classic demonstrations (minimal group paradigm) of how group membership itself drives bias. 1011
• Collective Narcissism & Intergroup Hostility: How investing self‑worth in the in‑group’s image predicts aggression and conspiratorial thinking; interventions that reduce hostility. 2223
• Intermittent Reinforcement & Trauma Bonding: Empirical tests showing power imbalance + variable “good/bad” treatment strengthen attachment to abusers over time. 14
• Women & ISIS Recruitment: Data on female affiliates, motives (belonging, purpose, ideology), roles (recruiting, enforcement), and post‑territorial outcomes. 1918
• Religious demography (U.S. & Texas): Recent surveys placing Muslims as a small share nationally and ~2% in Texas; trends and projections to mid‑century. 2021
• Strongman appeal vs. anti‑establishment populism: Cross‑national evidence that authoritarian populist attitudes—not just anti‑elite sentiment—predict support for strong leaders. 12
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Footnotes
[^1]: Kruglanski et al., “The Psychology of Radicalization and Deradicalization: How Significance Quest Impacts Violent Extremism,” Political Psychology (2014). 4
[^2]: Kruglanski, Bélanger, & Gunaratna, The Three Pillars of Radicalization: Needs, Narratives, and Networks (2019). 5
[^3]: Hogg, “From Uncertainty to Extremism: Social Categorization and Identity Processes,” Current Directions in Psychological Science (2014). 3
[^4]: Pyszczynski, Solomon, & Greenberg, “Thirty Years of Terror Management Theory,” Advances in Experimental Social Psychology (2015). 9
[^5]: Tajfel & Turner, “The Social Identity Theory of Intergroup Behavior,” classic chapter (updated). 10
[^6]: Golec de Zavala et al., “Collective Narcissism: Political Consequences…,” Political Psychology (2019). 22
[^7]: Dutton & Painter, “Emotional Attachments in Abusive Relationships: A Test of Traumatic Bonding Theory,” Violence and Victims (1993). 14
[^8]: Cook & Vale, “From Daesh to ‘Diaspora’: Tracing the Women and Minors of Islamic State,” ICSR (2018). 19
[^9]: Hoyle, Bradford, & Frenett, “Becoming Mulan? Female Western Migrants to ISIS,” ISD (2015). 18
[^10]: Pew Research Center, Religious Landscape Study—Texas profile (2023–24). 20
[^11]: Pew Research Center, “The Future of World Religions: Population Growth Projections, 2010–2050.” 21
[^12]: Brigevich & Wagner, “Anti‑establishment versus authoritarian populists and support for the strong(wo)man,” Frontiers in Political Science (2025). 12
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Bibliography
• Arie W. Kruglanski et al. “The Psychology of Radicalization and Deradicalization: How Significance Quest Impacts Violent Extremism.” Political Psychology (2014). START overview
• Arie W. Kruglanski, Jocelyn J. Bélanger, Rohan Gunaratna. The Three Pillars of Radicalization: Needs, Narratives, and Networks. Oxford University Press (2019). Oxford Academic
• Michael A. Hogg. “From Uncertainty to Extremism.” Current Directions in Psychological Science (2014). PDF
• Michael A. Hogg & Janice Adelman. “Uncertainty–Identity Theory: Extreme Groups, Radical Behavior, and Authoritarian Leadership.” (2013). PDF
• Tom Pyszczynski, Sheldon Solomon, Jeff Greenberg. “Thirty Years of Terror Management Theory.” Advances in Experimental Social Psychology (2015). Chapter PDF
• Henri Tajfel & John Turner. “The Social Identity Theory of Intergroup Behavior.” (classic chapter). Text
• Agnieszka Golec de Zavala et al. “Collective Narcissism: Political Consequences…” Political Psychology (2019). Wiley
• Agnieszka Golec de Zavala. The Psychology of Collective Narcissism. Taylor & Francis/Open Access (2023). Open book
• Donald G. Dutton & Susan Painter. “Emotional Attachments in Abusive Relationships: A Test of Traumatic Bonding Theory.” Violence and Victims (1993). ResearchGate PDF
• Carolyn Hoyle, Alexandra Bradford, Ross Frenett. Becoming Mulan? Female Western Migrants to ISIS. ISD (2015). GIWPS resource
• Joana Cook & Gina Vale. From Daesh to ‘Diaspora’. ICSR/King’s College (2018). ICSR report
• Pew Research Center. Religious Landscape Study—Texas. (2023–24). State profile
• Pew Research Center. The Future of World Religions: Population Growth Projections, 2010–2050. (2015; note 2025 update note). Report
• Anna Brigevich & Andrea Wagner. “Anti‑establishment versus authoritarian populists…” Frontiers in Political Science (2025). Article
• Aleksandar Matovski. “The ‘Strongman’ Electoral Authoritarian Appeal.” In Popular Dictatorships (Cambridge, 2021). Chapter
I’ve cooled off a lot on Trump since he signed that stupid executive order on marijuana, and the damage for me is permanent. Yet again, he got suckered by the health people into doing something terrible. After he signed that order, the first thing I did was rip down all the campaign signs I had hanging in my garage, well over 50 of them, and throw them all away. And for me, that’s significant. I’ve been a Trump person for over a decade now, and I even flew a Trump flag out in front of my house since 2020. I’ve been there with him through everything. But when it comes to pot, that’s my off-ramp, I can’t go there. I remember the surge—the big‑arena rally electricity, the “we’re going to fix this” certainty, the promise that the swamp would finally feel handcuffs, not hashtags. Enthusiasm is an accelerant: it makes the first months of any administration think like a rocket, but governing is ballast. You can talk like an MMA weigh-in; then you hit the first year, and the levers don’t move like switches. You’re turning a tender boat into a heavy ship, and it doesn’t pivot just because the helmsman barks louder. That gap—between campaign voltage and governing torque—shows up in the numbers. As 2026 starts, the national trackers have Trump underwater: RealClearPolitics’ late‑December average had him at 43.4% approve, 53.3% disapprove; The Economist/YouGov and Gallup show similar or lower figures. Even outlets aggregating friendlier samples, like Trafalgar or InsiderAdvantage, only briefly nudge him above water. Net‑net, the public mood reflects a rollercoaster: from early‑term +2 net approval to roughly −10 to −18 through late December, with a modest tick up right at New Year’s. 1234
That swing—call it 15 to 18 points from honeymoon to grind—doesn’t surprise me. It maps to two realities people feel viscerally. First, the ceremonial ceiling of the presidency: Article II is not a crown. You can veto, you can appoint, you can persuade; prosecution runs through the Department of Justice and independent courts, not the Resolute Desk’s social media feed. Madison built it that way on purpose. Checks and balances are designed to slow action, to force coalition, to prevent any one figure from conducting government as a one-person show. That means even if a president wants a dramatic perp‑walk tomorrow, the machinery says: probable cause, grand jury, trial, appeal. The Constitution puts the brakes on rage. 567
Second, expectations on crime and corruption collided with the political physics of institutions. If you’ve got an FBI director, an Attorney General, and a thousand career AUSAs who live by procedure and fear appellate reversals, you won’t see “handcuffs by Friday.” That disconnect fuels voter irritation, especially among people like me who wanted visible consequences for government abuse. It’s why you can have weeks of tough talk about Somali fraud in Minnesota, accelerated federal deployments, and endless press hits—but arrests and convictions trail the rhetoric by months or years. And when the rhetoric goes nowhere, it bleeds support beyond the base. 8910
I don’t do the marijuana thing for anybody. For me, that EO was a line. It told me the posture was more New York live‑and‑let‑live than “law‑and‑order, no exceptions.” That order didn’t itself reschedule cannabis; it directed DOJ to expedite moving marijuana from Schedule I to Schedule III, completing a process that began under HHS/DEA in 2024. But the signal was unmistakable: prioritize medical research, loosen tax handcuffs on the industry, and press Congress to revisit hemp and CBD definitions—precisely the kind of conciliatory, technocratic reform that calms markets more than it excites the “no mercy for drug crime” crowd, which I certainly am. I pulled the flags down in my garage that day and they’ll never go back up. I’m not against Trump, but my excitement for them cooled off a lot, so much so that I don’t want to think about them every day as I walk through my garage, because they are embarrassing to me. 111213
Here’s the thing, though—and it’s the uncomfortable truth most voters gravitate toward regardless of culture‑war skirmishes: the economy is the scoreboard. If gas prices stabilize, if mortgage rates come off the boil, if you can finally buy a starter home because affordability improves, you forgive a lot. On the macro, there’s real movement. The BEA’s delayed report shows 3Q 2025 real GDP at a 4.3% annualized pace—the fastest in two years—following 3.8% in Q2. Final sales to private domestic purchasers rose 3.0%. Corporate profits jumped by $166.1B in the quarter. Inflation metrics ticked up (PCE 2.8%, core 2.9%), but not enough to erase the growth story. That’s the tail catching the dog’s head: policies set in early 2025 are working their way through the system, with the visible payoff likely in 2026–2027. 141516
Of course, growth isn’t a sermon; it’s cash flow after taxes, interest, and insurance. You feel it when payroll expands in your county, when inventory turns faster, when suppliers quote shorter lead times, and your WIP finally clears. That’s why a published GDP line doesn’t erase public skepticism—especially if unemployment has bumped or affordability still stings. Polling narratives underline the tension: by late December, news roundups cataloged affordability as Trump’s weak spot, even as GDP surprised to the upside. Voters want price relief and housing access more than they want a Nobel speech. 217
Meanwhile, the marijuana decision isn’t just polls—it’s a coalition test. Gallup shows an 88–90% supermajority supporting legalization at least for medical use, but a notable 2025 dip in Republican support for broader legalization (down to ~40%). So rescheduling to Schedule III threads a needle: it concedes medical utility, accelerates research, and removes the industry’s punitive 280E tax hit—without federal legalization. That satisfies some independents and seniors who want regulated access for pain or chemo‑nausea, but it irritates law-and-order conservatives who expected a crackdown. Politically, that move trades intensity for breadth; in approval math, it’s a mixed bag, and you can see it in the net‑negative trend lines. 1819
If the presidency is more persuasion than prosecution, the question becomes: what persuasion works? Voters forgive drama when the ledger smiles. A 4.3% quarter isn’t destiny, but if you string quarters of 3–5% growth, ease tariffs where they hurt consumers, and let rates drift down without spooking inflation, the swing back is real. You can see the early narrative already forming in coverage: growth beating forecasts, AI/data‑center investment underwriting business capex, exports up, and consumption resilient despite elevated prices—tempered by caution about labor market softness and a shutdown’s hangover. That says 2026 could indeed be the payoff year if the policy tailwinds don’t get clipped by court rulings, trade shocks, or an inflation relapse. 2021
But I won’t pretend the justice gap away. People voted for “accountability” as much as for “affordability.” When they hear weeks of talk about Somali fraud and see federal surge operations, but still don’t see high-level perp walks, they conclude the system protects itself. Some of the public rhetoric has been sloppy—fact‑checks have knocked down the “billions every year” and “90% Somali fraud” claims as overstatements. It’s precisely the kind of overreach that costs net approval points with suburban voters who want credibility even when they agree with the crackdown. 2210
So where am I? Cool‑off, yes. Vote, yes. Flags in the garage, gone. It’s the ledger test now. If 2026 delivers—tailwinds in GDP growth, price relief, and visible competence—then you’ll see that 18-point swing reverse itself. If the administration wants that faster, it needs a visible chain of successes: clean arrests that stick, targeted prosecutions that demonstrate competence, not vengeance, and a disciplined economic message focused on prices, housing, and small‑business cost of capital. Show justice without bluster, and deliver growth without gimmicks. Voters reward that more than they reward the pre-fight theatrics.
The ceremonial nature of the office remains a burden, and that’s by design. You can’t govern like a king—and you shouldn’t. But you can marshal DOJ’s independence with steadiness, not soundbites; you can turn the ship with patient torque, not wheel‑spins. If the heavy ship keeps turning, by late 2026, people will feel it in their household math before they see it in the polls. And then, ironically, the numbers that cooled the base will warm back up again, not because the tough talk got louder, but because the cash registers did.
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Key data points (late 2025 / early 2026)
• Approval averages: RCP (Dec 1–30, 2025): 43.4% approve, 53.3% disapprove (−9.9 net). Gallup late Dec polls show around 36–41% approve, 54–61% disapprove. The Economist/YouGov: ~39–42% approve, 55–56% disapprove. Some polls (Trafalgar, InsiderAdvantage) show temporary +1 to +9 net, but the aggregate remains negative. 132
• GDP (Q3 2025): Real GDP +4.3% annualized; Q2 +3.8%. PCE price index +2.8% (core +2.9%). Corporate profits +$166.1B. Real final sales to private domestic purchasers +3.0%. 14
• Marijuana EO (Dec 18, 2025): Executive Order directs DOJ to expedite rescheduling marijuana to Schedule III; emphasizes medical research and signals hemp/CBD legislative fix. Rulemaking not yet final; rescheduling would not legalize cannabis federally. 1112
• Public opinion on marijuana: Pew Jan–Feb 2025: 54% legal for medical+recreational; 33% medical only; 12% not legal. Gallup Nov 2025: overall support for legalization at 64%, with GOP support declining to ~40%. 1819
• Minnesota Somali fraud rhetoric vs. facts: Administration rhetoric escalated; deployments announced; fact‑checks dispute claims of “billions every year” and broad‑brush culpability; investigations ongoing with mixed publicly verified figures. 8922
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Footnotes
1. RealClearPolitics “President Trump Job Approval” composite showing 43.4% / 53.3% for Dec 2025 and recent daily poll mix. 1
• The Economist/YouGov. Interactive approval tracker and analysis. Dec 2025–Jan 2026. 4
• USA Today. “Trump approval rating ticks up as 2026 begins.” Jan 2–3, 2026. 224
• Pew Research Center. “9 facts about Americans and marijuana.” July 8, 2025. 18
• Marijuana Moment. “DOJ Could Ignore Trump’s Marijuana Rescheduling Directive…” Dec 29, 2025; “Marijuana Saw Some Big Moments in 2025…” Dec 30, 2025. 2513
• White House Fact Sheet. “President Donald J. Trump is Increasing Medical Marijuana and Cannabidiol Research.” Dec 18, 2025. 11
• JURIST. “Trump signs executive order to expedite marijuana rescheduling.” Dec 19, 2025. 12
• CNBC / CBS News. Coverage of Q3 GDP surprise and inflation details. Dec 23, 2025. 1516
• USA Today / Politico / NBC News / PBS. Somali community coverage, federal deployments, and fact‑checks. Dec 2025–Jan 2026. 8109
• Pittsburgh Post-Gazette / FactCheck.org. “Fact-checking Trump’s verbal attack on Minnesota’s Somali community.” Dec 10, 2025. 22
I’ve been thinking a lot about why places like the Creation Museum feel so good, so clarifying, so strangely peaceful in a world that is racing toward noise and confusion. The day after Christmas 2025, my wife and I gave ourselves a simple gift—one day in Northern Kentucky to walk through exhibits dedicated to the Book of Genesis, to consider the first words people used to anchor reality, and to be among people who weren’t embarrassed to say that values matter, that truth exists, that our lives are accountable to more than fashion and force. I’ve been to the Ark Encounter too—the sister site Ken Ham’s team built—and I’ve always admired the sincerity and craftsmanship behind both projects. It’s not that you have to agree with every detail of their interpretation; it’s that the experience reminds you what a society feels like when people share a moral vocabulary and are willing to live by it. That sensation—a shared foundation—has become rare. When you step out of those doors, the contrast is obvious: a secular culture increasingly says there’s no shared foundation at all, and then wonders why the political kitchen is a mess, why trust collapses, why crime rises or governance frays or people feel isolated and angry. The idea that a secular world can function sustainably is attractive in theory and brittle in practice. My own proclamation, tested across business, government, and the day‑to‑day pressures of family life, is that it cannot.
My friend Todd Minniear being sworn in as President of the Liberty Township Trustees on January 6th 2026. Without the hand on a Bible the promises have no meaning, or context
I’ve been open to the debate. I’ve listened to the arguments about separation of church and state, the fear that religious conviction leads to wars of doctrine or oppressive social control. I understand the logic behind wanting neutral ground—some space where the State doesn’t weaponize God and God doesn’t seize the State. Historically, Americans know exactly why the First Amendment begins with religion: they fled countries where the State punished belief or demanded it, and they didn’t want federal power to become a priesthood in uniform.[1] But somewhere in that effort to restrain coercion, we drifted into a different error: confusing neutrality with nihilism. In practice, our public institutions evacuated shared moral content and then expected people to behave, expected businesses to operate, expected courts to arbitrate, expected children to learn, expected citizens to sacrifice—without shared purpose or metaphysical meaning. That hollowness is what I mean by “secularism” here, not a simple legal separation, but a cultural posture that denies any binding moral architecture at the center of public life. When you throw out the Ten Commandments, when you refuse a common oath because you don’t believe it, when you insist that every value is relative, you remove not just symbols but the agreed‑upon citizenship of virtue. You end up legislating tactics instead of truth, and tactics alone cannot build a civilization.[2]
Good government necessitates social agreement on values for law and order to sustain
If you step inside the Creation Museum, you find something that modern administrative life can’t provide: a sense of coherence that connects knowledge to duty. You can disagree with their young‑earth timelines or their carbon‑dating critiques and still appreciate the underlying lesson—a society needs a moral template. That template is about obligations—toward God, toward the truth, toward one another—and those obligations bind us even when convenience suggests otherwise. Emile Durkheim, no evangelical by any stretch, recognized that religion functions sociologically by creating the sacred—a point of collective reverence that stabilizes norms and discourages predatory behavior.[3] Strip that out and the rituals of respect disappear, leaving only private interests vying for position. Robert Putnam showed how civic life atrophies when shared institutions thin out, when we “bowl alone,” when participation and obligation retreat.[4] Business leaders, judges, engineers, inspectors—we all feel it in the daily grind: decision‑making becomes fragile when there is no widely accepted compass. Even the best program plan fails if it lives in a vacuum of meaning.
The Creation Museum in Northern Kentucky, a wonderful place
The counterargument says that religion causes conflict—that secular space is supposed to prevent wars of doctrine by removing faith from public calculation. Historically, yes, religious wars have occurred; human beings fight over anything that anchors identity. But the cure is not to remove anchors; it’s to choose anchors that turn hearts toward self‑control and mercy. The question isn’t “religion or peace,” but “which moral order best disciplines power and offers forgiveness?” The American Founding assumed that virtue was necessary for liberty and that religion was the most practical instructor of virtue—Tocqueville saw that plainly.[5] The First Amendment works not by sterilizing public religion, but by protecting it from state capture and protecting citizens from religious coercion. It assumes, in other words, that religion will thrive freely and will thereby sustain the habits of self‑government. This is not hostility toward faith; it is scaffolding for faith’s free operation across plural communities. Courts have vacillated for decades on how to apply that balance—Engel v. Vitale limited school‑sponsored prayer,[6] then later cases narrowed or reinterpreted the Lemon test’s reach,[7] with Kennedy v. Bremerton recognizing that personal religious expression need not be purged from public employment.[8] The point isn’t to litigate doctrine; it’s to remember that our system was designed to let religion breathe in the civic air, not to suffocate it.
What a great bookstore!
When secularism becomes a comprehensive worldview—a philosophy that reduces moral truth to private taste—notice the pattern. Public assurances about equality and compassion remain in the rhetoric, but the institutional courage to enforce norms collapses. A society without shared moral content has difficulty setting limits on violence or exploitation because it refuses to say why one ought not do a thing beyond preference or procedure. Alasdair MacIntyre described this with unsparing clarity: when virtue theory is abandoned, we inherit a culture of incommensurable moral claims—emotivism—where arguments devolve into expressions of will rather than reason.[9] In business terms, that looks like cultural drift—every meeting is a negotiation of appetites, with no shared first principles to resolve the conflict. In law, it looks like proceduralism without justice. In education, it looks like content stripped of meaning. In media, it looks like outrage cycles fueled by algorithmic attention rather than truth. You can still have sophisticated technology, but you lose wisdom. Charles Taylor’s account of secular modernity admits the trade: the “immanent frame” can stabilize certain freedoms but empties transcendence, and with it, the ability to answer “why.”[10]
A very unique place
Walk through the Creation Museum and you feel the opposite effect. The exhibits are meant to argue for a particular cosmology, yes, but the deeper experience is social: alignment. People sing the same hymns, they reflect on the same stories, they accept that authority is not just a bureaucratic title but a moral office answerable to God. That shared consent to moral order produces peace—even where debate exists on details, the atmosphere is oriented toward reverence. It’s the same sensation one feels inside a good church on a Sunday morning—a relief that the room is not staging a competition of egos but rehearsing charity and courage. Jonathan Haidt’s work makes the point from a different angle: humans bind and blind; moral communities bind us together with shared sacred values and inevitably blind us to some counter‑claims, but the binding is essential for cooperation.[11] The sober question is whether our binding story teaches love of neighbor and humility. In the biblical tradition, it does, and that matters for everything from family life to factory floors.
Ambitious displays within the context of history
You can see why, after a day in that environment, a trip to the Smithsonian sometimes feels lukewarm—not because science is bad, but because the presentations often employ a deliberate neutrality that subtracts moral consequence from the narrative. It’s science as a series of facts rather than science interrogated by responsibility. The Museum of the Bible, by contrast, radiates a sense that the literary achievement of Scripture is nut and bolt for civilization—whatever the denominational debates over translation, the civilizational impact is beyond question. A museum can either aim at wonder or at relativism; sometimes the same building holds both. The question is whether our public culture still knows how to talk about goodness as a sturdy thing, not an opinion.
This debate isn’t abstract for me. I interact with government regularly. I see how bills get written, how media narratives shape legislative appetite, how election incentives distort courage. A secular posture—where conviction is suspect and truth is negotiable—depresses the willingness to do hard, right things. Engineering knows this in material terms: you can cheat a tolerance, but the airframe will remember. Law knows this: you can fudge a rule, but justice will remember. Business knows this: you can delay a difficult choice, but the market will remember. A society without a shared moral anchor will buy time with procedures and lose the soul of performance. And when it loses that soul, it becomes easier for external enemies to fracture it—from propaganda to immigration debates to economic sabotage—because the internal immune system of virtue has been suppressed in the name of neutrality.[12]
But neutrality was never the goal; fairness was. The promise of America rests on equal protection and free conscience, not the abolition of moral language. The founders did not imagine a naked public square—they imagined a modestly clothed one, where citizens bring convictions without state compulsion.[13] When modern elites invoke “separation of church and state,” they often mean “banish religious reasoning from public institutions.” Jefferson’s letter to the Danbury Baptists used the metaphor to reassure a minority that the federal government wouldn’t intrude on their worship, not to exile religion from civic life.[14] Over time, the metaphor grew into an ideology that sees piety as dangerous. That suspicion coexists uneasily with social data: religious participation correlates with charitable giving, volunteering, stable families, and lower crime,[15] and it builds social capital that secular substitutes rarely match.[16] You can’t brute‑force these fruits with policy. They are cultural. They require a story of meaning people choose to live by.
Are there religious abuses? Yes. Are there bad churches? Yes. Are there weaponized doctrines? Yes. So there are bad banks, bad courts, bad schools, bad newspapers, bad laboratories. Human nature will corrupt anything it touches. The correction, then, is not to evict religion from the public ecosystem, but to purify it—reform it—by calling it back to its own standards. In Christianity, those standards include the fruit of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self‑control. If a religious institution doesn’t cultivate those, it earns reform or decline. But the existence of failure does not argue for the abolition of the only widely available language strong enough to restrain the worst instincts of power. A secular philosophy often proposes procedural checks; a moral tradition demands virtue. The former can slow harm; the latter can prevent it at the root.
Look at all those homeschool options!
So we went to the Creation Museum to breathe values—to be among people who were not ashamed to say that goodness exists, that truth is real, that beauty is objective, and that society goes to pieces when we pretend otherwise. It isn’t about forcing belief; it’s about remembering that belief orders life and that the ordering is not optional for civilization. If you want confirmation, you can test museums against one another. Visit a secular facility where narrative design deliberately refuses moral conclusions, and then visit the Museum of the Bible. Watch how people respond. One experience will feel informative; the other will feel formative. You might debate manuscript integrity, translation variance, canon history—the intellectual work is welcome—but you will also feel the social warmth that comes when a room of people agree that moral order is not a negotiable commodity. That warmth is not a sentimental convenience; it is a precondition for honest politics and high‑trust business.
I know some will reply that secular frameworks enable pluralism—that by removing religion from public arbitration, we avoid endless theological lawsuits. That argument is respectable and has achieved good in limiting specific harms. But our present secularism is not a modest procedural boundary; it is an anthropological claim that refuses to name the good beyond private choice. That is untenable. Human beings are teleological—they need ends, purposes—and a society that won’t speak honestly about ends will end up obsessing over means. We’ll set up compliance structures, not justice; risk matrices, not courage; brand management, not truth. When a nation forgets why it exists—that rights are not granted by the State but secured by it,[17] that duties are owed to each other because we are made in God’s image—it becomes easy to rearrange institutions against the very people they were meant to serve. The vacuum draws in other ideologies, often more aggressive and less merciful, that prefer domination to persuasion. And because secular public discourse has weakened moral confidence, the vacuum welcomes the worst guests.
There are lots of Dinosaurs, it’s Jurassic Park meets the Bible
The fix is not complicated in theory, even if it’s demanding in practice. Recover the idea that public life depends on private virtue, and private virtue depends on a transcendent standard. Encourage religion without establishing it. Protect conscience while insisting that our shared moral language is not optional. Teach children that some acts are wrong not because the State says so today, but because they violate what the State is supposed to honor every day. Invite museums, schools, businesses, media, and the courts to acknowledge that a society is healthiest when people agree on basic moral commitments—truthfulness, fidelity, stewardship, courage, mercy—and that those commitments are not simply personal preferences. If we do this, pluralism becomes livable because disagreement happens within a common moral grammar.
People sometimes ask me, after a day like the one we had at the Creation Museum, whether we are closing ourselves off from “real” science or “real” politics. I answer that love of God and love of truth are the opposite of anti‑science or anti‑politics. A moral universe makes experimentation meaningful; it holds scientists to honesty precisely because results matter. A moral universe keeps politics from devolving into pure contest; it holds legislators to integrity because laws shape human flourishing. The secular experiment tried to sustain those virtues without the metaphysical oxygen that created them. For a time, it worked—habits carried over from religious generations. But as the generational memory fades, the tank runs empty. You can feel it everywhere—from the local council to the federal bureaucracy, from boardrooms to classrooms. We are rationing virtues we stopped cultivating.
If you want to remember how to cultivate them, walk back into a place that takes values seriously. Listen to hymns; read Genesis; argue with carbon dating; reconcile faith and physics where you can and note your disagreements where you must. But don’t pretend that the disagreement abolishes our need for a shared moral order. It does not. The debate itself presupposes a standard for honesty and charity. In that sense, the Creation Museum is useful not merely for what it asserts about origins but for what it models about the social effect of belief. People there feel obligated to treat one another well, and that obligation is rooted in a story larger than themselves. That, more than any specific exhibit caption, is what our public square now lacks. Recover it, and schools will regain purpose, courts will regain moral confidence, businesses will regain cultural backbone, and governance will regain courage.
One of my favorite things from the Creation Museum
We came home from Northern Kentucky grateful—not only for the content we saw but for the reminder that peace is not the absence of conviction. Peace is the fruit of rightly ordered conviction. A secular approach, as presently practiced, cannot deliver that fruit because it has uprooted the tree. It promised fairness by abolishing shared morality and has left us with procedures that cannot prevent chaos. Religion—not mandated by the State, not policed as a tool of power, but lived freely by citizens—can. It is not the only ingredient, but it is an irreplaceable one. To build a healthy society, you must name what is good and teach people to love it. The Creation Museum gives you a taste of that lesson. The question is whether we will carry it back into the public square with courage.
Here’s why!
I said to my family, and I’ll say here: you don’t have to be cruel to those who disagree, or hostile to those of other faiths, or blind to the complexities of pluralism. You simply have to be honest that a civilization cannot survive without shared moral ground. You must recognize that a naked public square isn’t neutral; it’s vulnerable. And you must be willing to rebuild a culture that honors virtue openly, without apology. If you want to see the difference, spend a day in a place that dares to say values are real. Then ask yourself which world you want your children to inherit—the one that believes in goodness and demands it, or the one that refuses to name it and then watches, powerless, as the center falls apart.
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Footnotes
[1] First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution; see also James Madison, “Memorial and Remonstrance Against Religious Assessments” (1785).
[2] See the Ten Commandments’ historical role in Anglo‑American law: John Witte Jr., Religion and the American Constitutional Experiment (Westview, 2000).
[3] Émile Durkheim, The Elementary Forms of Religious Life (1912), esp. on collective effervescence and social cohesion.
[4] Robert D. Putnam, Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community (Simon & Schuster, 2000); Robert D. Putnam and David E. Campbell, American Grace: How Religion Divides and Unites Us (Simon & Schuster, 2010).
[5] Alexis de Tocqueville, Democracy in America (1835–1840), esp. Vol. I on the role of religion in sustaining democratic habits.
[6] Engel v. Vitale, 370 U.S. 421 (1962).
[7] Lemon v. Kurtzman, 403 U.S. 602 (1971); for the Court’s later narrowing and critiques of the Lemon test, see American Legion v. American Humanist Association, 588 U.S. ___ (2019).
[8] Kennedy v. Bremerton School District, 597 U.S. ___ (2022), protecting personal prayer as private speech.
[9] Alasdair MacIntyre, After Virtue (Notre Dame, 1981).
[10] Charles Taylor, A Secular Age (Harvard University Press, 2007).
[11] Jonathan Haidt, The Righteous Mind: Why Good People Are Divided by Politics and Religion (Pantheon, 2012).
[12] On moral capital and social resilience, see Yuval Levin, The Fractured Republic (Basic Books, 2016); also Peter Berger, The Sacred Canopy (1967).
[13] See George Washington’s Farewell Address (1796) on religion and morality as “indispensable supports.”
[14] Thomas Jefferson’s letter to the Danbury Baptist Association (January 1, 1802), articulating the “wall of separation” metaphor.
[15] Pew Research Center, “Religion and Public Life” surveys; see also Arthur C. Brooks, Who Really Cares (Basic Books, 2006) on charitable giving and religiosity.
[16] Putnam and Campbell, American Grace; see also David E. Campbell, Why We Vote: How Schools and Communities Shape Our Civic Life (Princeton, 2008).
[17] Declaration of Independence (1776): rights are “endowed by their Creator,” governments are instituted to secure those rights.
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Bibliography
Berger, Peter. The Sacred Canopy: Elements of a Sociological Theory of Religion. Anchor, 1967.
Brooks, Arthur C. Who Really Cares: The Surprising Truth About Compassionate Conservatism. Basic Books, 2006.
Campbell, David E. Why We Vote: How Schools and Communities Shape Our Civic Life. Princeton University Press, 2008.
Durkheim, Émile. The Elementary Forms of Religious Life. 1912.
Haidt, Jonathan. The Righteous Mind: Why Good People Are Divided by Politics and Religion. Pantheon, 2012.
Levin, Yuval. The Fractured Republic: Renewing America’s Social Contract in the Age of Individualism. Basic Books, 2016.
MacIntyre, Alasdair. After Virtue. University of Notre Dame Press, 1981.
Madison, James. “Memorial and Remonstrance Against Religious Assessments.” 1785.
Pew Research Center. Various reports on religion, social trust, and civic engagement.
Putnam, Robert D. Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community. Simon & Schuster, 2000.
Putnam, Robert D., and David E. Campbell. American Grace: How Religion Divides and Unites Us. Simon & Schuster, 2010.
Taylor, Charles. A Secular Age. Harvard University Press, 2007.
Tocqueville, Alexis de. Democracy in America. 1835–1840.
Washington, George. Farewell Address. 1796.
Witte Jr., John. Religion and the American Constitutional Experiment. Westview Press, 2000.
U.S. Supreme Court decisions: Engel v. Vitale (1962), Lemon v. Kurtzman (1971), American Legion v. American Humanist Association (2019), Kennedy v. Bremerton School District (2022).
Declaration of Independence (1776); U.S. Constitution (First Amendment).
I’m very happy with the attack on Venezuela and the takeover of its industry by the United States. Rather than sit around waiting for everyone to come into our country to corrupt it, I would propose that we inspire in the world an America First agenda. That truly, America First isn’t about putting up walls and trying to keep everyone out, but to help make the rest of the world into what everyone wants in America, to free them from their oppressors. And this raid into Venezuela is a great “America First” means to help the world in very positive ways, the destruction of socialism as it has looted American investment in countries around the world. The United States’ strike-and-extraction operation in Venezuela is more than an arrest; it is strategic signaling in a world where cartels profit from governance vacuums and exploit international law to shield mass criminality. Robust action against drug networks—whether on the high seas or in hostile capitals—disrupts the illicit economies that otherwise corrode nations, capture bureaucracies, and fund terror. It synthesizes recent data from UNODC, CDC, DEA, Treasury/OFAC, and investigative reporting to show (1) the scale and dynamics of the modern drug trade (synthetics, cocaine, logistics), (2) how Mexico’s cartels embed inside state and local institutions, (3) Venezuela’s “Cartel de los Soles” and allied criminal architecture, and (4) how China, Russia, and Iran/Hezbollah link into the supply chain via precursors, routes, and laundering.
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I. The Moral and Strategic Case for Taking the Fight Forward
The global drug market has morphed into a polycentric criminal ecosystem—synthetic opioids (fentanyl, nitazenes), record-high cocaine production, and multi-vector logistics. UNODC’s World Drug Report 2024 estimates 292 million users worldwide in 2022 (up 20% in a decade), with 64 million suffering drug‑use disorders and only 1 in 11 receiving treatment; synthetics are rising, and cocaine supply/markets are expanding across three continents. 1234
That scale translates directly into social devastation and leverage for violent groups. In North America, fentanyl and analogues became the deadliest driver of overdoses. The CDC’s provisional dashboard and 2025 statements show a ~27% decline in U.S. overdose deaths from 2023 to 2024—but still tens of thousands of deaths, with overdoses remaining the leading cause of death for Americans aged 18–44. This hard-won progress must not be surrendered to transnational supply chains. 5678
Strategic necessity: Cartels and their state enablers exploit international law vacuums and UN bureaucracy to create zones of impunity. When the U.S. demonstrates capability—surgical strikes, maritime interdictions, special operations extractions—that is more than law enforcement; it rebalances deterrence across other negotiations (Ukraine/Russia, the Middle East, and Chinese hostilities toward Taiwan). The Venezuela operation (strikes followed by capture and transfer of Nicolás Maduro for narcoterrorism/cocaine importation conspiracy charges) exemplifies signalling power—warning states and non-state actors that use drug economies to fund aggression and terror. 910
Critics object on sovereignty grounds, yet Maduro and senior officials have faced U.S. indictments and sanctions for years (Cartel de los Soles allegations, coordination with FARC/ELN and major cartels, Treasury’s Kingpin actions against figures like Tareck El Aissami). The recent U.S. designation of Cartel de los Soles as an FTO unlocked authorities to crack down on illicit maritime flows before land operations. 1112131415
Bottom line: Stopping mass poisoning is a moral obligation. Decisive action abroad reduces capacity, raises costs, and deters collusion—and it complements domestic overdose reductions already underway.
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II. What the Data Say: Scope, Trends, and the “Synthetics + Cocaine” Equation
Global scope. UNODC confirms record cocaine production and the spread of synthetic opioids (including nitazenes, even more potent than fentanyl). Drug production/trafficking now overlaps with wildlife crime, illegal mining, and fraud, reinforcing criminal governance. 213
U.S. public‑health trend. Provisional CDC data: ~80–87k overdose deaths in 2024, down from ~110k in 2023, with fentanyl deaths dropping from ~76k to ~48k. The decline correlates with naloxone scaling, medication-assisted treatment, and supply disruptions. 716
Supply chain pressure. DOJ/DEA reporting for 2024–25 lists millions of pills seized, ton‑scale fentanyl powder, dozens of cartel extraditions, and indictments of China-based precursor suppliers, reflecting link-by-link targeting (China → Mexico → U.S.). 1718
Ports, not footpaths. Data analyses show most fentanyl seizures occur at ports of entry; the majority of smugglers in those cases are U.S. citizens or lawful entrants, underscoring that smarter port security—not conflation with irregular migration—is the key choke point. 19
Mexico’s violence footprint. Over 300,000 homicides in a decade, organized crime as the primary driver, with extortion and firearms crimes surging; public‑security spending is ~0.7% of GDP, far below regional peers—evidence of institutional strain and criminal entrenchment. 2021
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III. How Cartels Hide Behind the State: Mexico’s Embedded Criminality
Mexico is the central case of cartels entwined with governance. Over the years, major organizations (Sinaloa, CJNG, Zetas successors) have fragmented, diversified (extortion, kidnapping, huachicol fuel theft, migrant smuggling), and embedded in local institutions. Interviews and analyses (FIU’s Evan Ellis; Atlantic Council charts) highlight pervasive extortion (millions of attempts; under-reporting ~97%), kidnapping/extortion spikes, and armed lethality amplified by smuggled weapons, drones, and tactical vehicles. 2223
Human Rights Watch’s 2025 report flags high homicide rates, militarized policing, and judicial reforms that may weaken independence—conditions cartels exploit to preserve impunity. 24
Strategic reading: this is criminal state capture in slices—not monolithic control, but localized erosion of sovereignty. When the U.S. disrupts revenue streams (cocaine legs, precursor flows), cartels lose the cash that bankrolls political influence and violence.
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IV. Venezuela’s Criminal Architecture: The Cartel de los Soles and Allied Networks
For decades, Venezuela provided transit corridors and protection for multi-ton cocaine shipments—leveraging ports, air bases, and military/intelligence cover. U.S. indictments and sanctions detail state-linked facilitation, diplomatic documents for traffickers, and coordination with FARC/ELN, Sinaloa, Zetas, and Tren de Aragua, the latter now itself on U.S. terror lists alongside the Cartel de los Soles. 112512
OFAC’s Kingpin action against Tareck El Aissami (2017) spelled out how airfields and ports were used to move shipments of>1,000 kg, part of a larger network of front companies and laundering. Subsequent State/Justice actions offered rewards, sanctions enforcement, and criminal charges for evasion—precisely the legal scaffolding needed to take down high-level facilitators. 131426
The 2025–26 escalation—maritime strikes on drug boats, FTO designations, and ultimately land strikes/extraction—signals that the U.S. will deny sanctuary to regimes that operationalize narcotrafficking as state policy. 10
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V. The Iran/Hezbollah Axis in the Americas: Logistics, Laundering, and Venezuelan Haven
Analysts and U.S. testimony document Hezbollah’s Latin American footprint—not only ideological support, but practical money laundering and logistics, with nodes in free trade zones and networks focusing on cocaine proceeds. Venezuela has served as a hub, amplified by Iran–Venezuela ties (payback in gold/fuel tech, joint factories, propaganda). Budget shortfalls in Tehran push Hezbollah deeper into criminal finance. 2728
Recent reporting and official statements suggest a heightened Hezbollah presence in Venezuela and policy intent to uproot it after Maduro’s capture—key for degrading hybrid narco‑terror finance in the hemisphere. 2930
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VI. China’s Role: Precursors, Equipment, and the Post-2019 Shift
The fentanyl supply chain changed after China’s 2019 class-wide controls on fentanyl analogues; direct flows to the U.S. largely ceased, but precursor chemicals and pill‑press equipment continued to feed Mexican production. Congressional research notes dozens of analogues and ongoing international scheduling of key precursors (ANPP, NPP, 4‑AP, boc‑4‑AP, norfentanyl; later four‑piperidone). U.S. policy targets PRC-sourced precursors and financial flows. 3132
Chinese white papers emphasize expanded domestic controls and multilateral cooperation—significant if rigorously enforced —but U.S. indictments in 2024 show China-based firms still advertising/shipping precursors to cartels. Bridging this gap—from paper to practice—is critical. 333418
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VII. Russia’s New Cocaine Routes: The Banana Corridor and Post‑Odesa Diversions
With Odesa’s port constrained by war, traffickers re-routed Ecuadorian cocaine to Russia—where seizures jumped tenfold in 2023–24, often concealed in banana containers through St. Petersburg. Investigations by OCCRP, CBS/AFP, and others show multi-ton busts and Russia’s emergence as a transit hub for European markets. This matters because it reshapes cartel logistics, diversifies laundering, and complicates enforcement across Eurasia. 35363738
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VIII. The U.S. Play: Link‑by‑Link Pressure and Strategic Signaling
Law‑enforcement pressure: DOJ/DEA have extradited dozens of cartel figures, seized massive quantities of fentanyl, and indicted China-based precursor suppliers—evidence of an end-to-end strategy to break the chain. 17
Financial war: FinCEN’s June 2024 advisory tells banks how to spot precursor procurement (SAR key terms, pill presses), aligning finance surveillance with interdiction. Treasury/OFAC actions (Kingpin designations) freeze assets and deter facilitators. 39
Ports focus: Reorientation toward ports of entry (non-pedestrian smuggling modalities) is empirically justified and should continue with AI inspection, trusted shipper audits, and precursor controls. 19
Military signal: The Venezuela operation—and the prior maritime campaign against drug boats—alters risk calculus for regimes and gangs, conveying that sanctuary is not guaranteed when criminal economies intertwine with governance. 109
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IX. Statistics of importance (2024–2026 window)
• Global drug users: 292 million in 2022 (+20% over 10 years); 64 million with disorders; treatment gap 1 in 11 globally. 13
• Cocaine production & markets: Record highs; expansion to Europe/Africa/Asia. 2
• U.S. overdoses: Estimated ~80–87k (2024 provisional), down ~25–27% from 2023; synthetic opioid deaths ~48k (2024) vs ~76k (2023). 716
• DEA 2024 actions: 30M+ fentanyl pills and >4,100 lbs powder seized; 2,100 arrests; multiple Chinese company indictments (Oct. 2024). 1718
• Ports of entry reality: Roughly 4 in 5 fentanyl smugglers at the southern border (2018–2024) were U.S. citizens or lawful entrants; focus should be on ports, not migrants on foot. 19
• Russia route: 5.2 tons seized (2023–24), tenfold increase; repeated multi-ton seizures in banana cargo from Ecuador. 373536
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X. Policy Framework: Deny, Smash, Seize, Deter
1. Deny Sanctuary
• Maintain maritime interdictions and special operations options against declared FTO networks and state facilitators. Use FTO designation to justify kinetic disruption when law enforcement alone cannot access targets. 1012
2. Smash Logistics (Precursors & Ports)
• Push PRC enforcement from paper to practice: bilateral precursor scheduling completion (4‑piperidone set), export‑verification, and industry audits; follow with U.S. indictments when necessary. Pair with U.S. port tech (AI/analytics) to detect small‑volume, high‑potency flows. 333118
3. Seize Money & Equipment
• Use FinCEN red‑flags (pill presses, die molds, unusual chemical purchases) and civil/criminal forfeiture; scale kingpin sanctions for Venezuelan facilitators and Hezbollah financiers (FTZ networks). 39
4. Deter State Collusion
• Maintain visible consequences for regimes weaponizing narcotics. The Maduro capture sets a precedent: narco‑terror as grounds for cross-border arrest and trial. Pair with diplomatic off‑ramps for post-regime transitions to restore lawful oil output and deny illicit funding to foreign adversaries. 9
5. Sustain Domestic Demand‑Side Gains
• Keep overdose momentum: naloxone saturation, medication-assisted treatment, Overdose Data to Action (OD2A) funding—because supply shocks work best when demand falls. 56
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XI. Answering Common Critiques
• “Isn’t this about oil?”
Oil matters—but the central predicate is narco‑terror, cocaine importation conspiracy, and state-backed criminality. Sanctioned regimes have used oil rents + criminal economies to entrench power; restoring lawful production under a non-criminal government reduces cartel financing, improves regional stability, and removes a strategic lever for Iran/Russia proxies. 1130
• “International law says no.”
The counterargument is self-defense against non-state actors designated as foreign terrorists, aided and abetted by officials under prior indictments and sanctions; the U.S. campaign explicitly framed strikes as part of an armed conflict with cartels after FTO designation, then executed a law‑enforcement handoff in U.S. courts. 10
• “Focus at home first.”
We are—and we must do both. CDC data prove that domestic interventions are working, but global supply chains will re-route unless external pressure remains. This is two‑fronts: treatment/prevention at home, interdiction/pressure abroad. 56
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XII. Justice as Deterrence, Deterrence as Peace
When criminal economies become state practice, freedom erodes—first in the barrios and border towns, then in courts and media, and finally in the geopolitics that decide whether terror proxies project power in our hemisphere. The Venezuela operation—preceded by months of boat strikes and backed by years of indictments and sanctions—was smart policy because it reanchors deterrence: America can reach you; your sanctuary is temporary; your money will be seized; your routes will be broken.
In parallel, the U.S. must keep overdose deaths falling—the quiet revolution that saves lives every day—while systematically stripping cartels of their cross-border logistics, their state patrons, and their money men. That is how we protect culture, restore the rule of law, and signal to Russia, Iran, and China that the narco‑strategy is a dead strategy when the cost of doing business keeps rising. The best “America First” policy is to make American ideas the values of the world, and to stop messing around with all this global hand holding. If we are going to pay for everything, then lets insist that they do things our way. And where drug manufacture is most abundant, and supported by hostile countries who intend to see our people poisoned, and killed, we must take that fight to their doorstep. Which I more than fully support!
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Footnotes
1. UNODC, World Drug Report 2024—press and key findings: users (292M), treatment gap, synthetics & cocaine trends. 1234
2. CDC, Provisional Drug Overdose Data (dashboard) and 2025 media statements on 2024 declines and OD2A. 56
4. American Immigration Council, Fentanyl Smuggling at Ports—modalities and citizenship data (2018–2024). 19
5. Mexico violence + institutional capacity: IEP Mexico Peace Index (2025), Latin Times synthesis, HRW World Report 2025. 212024
6. Venezuela narco‑architecture: DOJ indictments (2020, updated 2026) and U.S. FTO designation explainer (Al Jazeera); NDTV summary of newly unsealed charges; OFAC Kingpin actions vs. Tareck El Aissami. 11122513
7. U.S. escalation timeline and strike rationale: PBS/AP timeline; CBS coverage of capture & court proceedings. 109
8. Hezbollah/Iran in Venezuela: Washington Institute testimony, Senate drug caucus testimony, Fox/Jewish Insider coverage of policy intent post-Maduro. 27282930
9. China’s precursor role: CRS China Primer (2024), PRC white paper (2025) on domestic controls; U.S. indictments show residual illicit supply. 313318
11. Financial system alerts: FinCEN Supplemental Advisory (June 20, 2024), focusing on precursors, equipment, and SAR flags. 39
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Annotated Bibliography (Selected)
• UNODC (2024): World Drug Report. Definitive global analysis of drug markets, users, and harms; details on synthetics and cocaine expansion. PDF press release, Key findings.
• CDC (2024–2025): Provisional Drug Overdose Data & Statements. Interactive counts by drug class and jurisdiction; context on overdose decline. Dashboard, Statement.
• DOJ/DEA (2024–25): Supply‑chain enforcement. Indictments of China-based chemical companies; cartel extraditions; seizure metrics. DEA press release, DOJ fact sheet.
• American Immigration Council (2025): Fentanyl Smuggling at Ports of Entry. Empirical breakdown correcting common misconceptions. Fact sheet.
• IEP / Mexico Peace Index (2025): Long-run violence metrics, institutional spending, and organized crime as the primary drivers. Press release; see Latin Times synthesis. Article.
• HRW World Report 2025—Mexico: Human rights context for security/militarization and justice reforms. Chapter.
• OFAC/Treasury (2017): Kingpin designation of Tareck El Aissami. Press release.
• DOJ/NPR/NDTV (2026): Updated indictments and unsealed charges against Maduro & associates; operational details. NPR, NDTV.
• PBS/AP Timeline (2026): Escalation sequence, FTO policy, maritime strikes before land operation. Timeline.
• Washington Institute / Senate CINC (2025): Hezbollah’s Latin American networks, laundering, and Venezuelan nodes. Policy analysis, Testimony.
• CRS China Primer (2024): Post-2019 shift from analogues to precursors and equipment; bilateral efforts. CRS.
• PRC White Paper (2025): Official depiction of China’s control regime for fentanyl precursors. White paper.
To answer the most asked question I get during the holidays, no, I don’t cook. My wife does. That’s not a joke, it’s a commitment we made in 1988 when we married young and chose a traditional family on purpose. I mow the grass, fix the cars, bring home the apples; she turns them into pie. That division of labor has kept our household steady for nearly four decades, and every year the same eyebrows go up from people who ask those kinds of questions—“You can’t say that.” Of course I can. We built our marriage like a small business with roles we both wanted, not roles assigned by a committee of strangers. And when someone tries to question our deal at the family gatherings over the years, I keep a poker face, and stay civil and nice—but I remember. My wife remembers too: I had an aunt once who took her to lunch to lecture her on feminism, the in-laws who offered social pressure in progressive wrapping paper, the yearly chorus of “help with the dishes or else.” We pushed back not to score points, but to defend something we knew was worth protecting.
What’s funny—what’s tragic, really—is how much social commentary people will smuggle into a question around stuffing and cranberry sauce. Behind the small talk lives a theory of marriage: some think roles should be erased; we think roles should be agreed upon. I believe in complementary strengths. And I don’t belittle the cook; I admire the work my wife does in our family, she is 100% committed in ways that are nearly gone these days. She’s made possible the work I do when most people are sleeping, because the clothes are clean, the house runs well, and a hot plate finds its way to my chair in the middle of the night. You want to know how I read so much, write so much, keep so many projects moving? It starts with the dinner that arrives without me asking.
Now, if we’re going to talk about how marriages actually fare, let’s invite the numbers into the room. The United States logged 2,041,926 marriages in 2023—about 6.1 per 1,000 people—and 672,502 divorces across 45 reporting states and D.C., roughly 2.4 per 1,000. That’s the official snapshot, and it tells you something simple: marriages rebounded from the pandemic dip, and divorces keep drifting down from their 1980s peak. 12 If you prefer measures that adjust for who’s actually at risk, Bowling Green State University’s National Center for Family & Marriage Research (NCFMR) puts the 2023 refined divorce rate at 14.4 divorces per 1,000 married women, slightly down from 2022; some analysts saw it nudge lower again in 2024. The refined marriage rate for women in 2023 held around 31.5 per 1,000 unmarried women. Translate that: fewer divorces relative to the number married, and a stable likelihood of marriage among those unmarried. 34
Of course, national averages flatten out the geography. In 2023, Utah had the highest refined marriage rate (49 marriages per 1,000 unmarried women), while Louisiana and Delaware were near the bottom; for divorce, Alaska had the highest rate and Vermont the lowest, with the U.S. at 14.4 overall. That’s culture, economics, and age composition all doing their dance. 43
And how long do marriages last? The federal government no longer publishes fine-grained duration tables the way it once did, but the NSFG’s event histories and Census reports paint enough of the outline: the median age at first marriage has climbed to historic highs—about 30.2 for men and 28.4 for women in 2023—meaning couples enter marriage later, after more schooling and work. Later marriages tend to be more stable than teen marriages, and the divorce hazards have shifted more toward economic stress and mismatched expectations than any single “traditional vs. egalitarian” switch. 56
If you step back and trace the arc since the mid-20th century, the significant facts are now old facts: we marry later, we marry less often, and divorce rates (by multiple measures) are lower than they were at their peak. OECD cross-national data puts the crude marriage rate for many wealthy countries between 3 and 5 per 1,000 today; the U.S. is higher than most at around 6, but it’s still far below the 1970s. Pandemic disruptions knocked weddings down in 2020, and they bounced back in 2021–2023. 78
The household story is equally stark: fewer than half of U.S. households today are married‑couple households. That was 78.8% after World War II; it’s been under half since 2010. Does that mean marriage is dead? The cost of progressive lifestyles really starts to show here. Our living arrangements have diversified, and a growing share of adults delay or forgo marriage—and often cohabit instead. 910 Pew’s longer view shows that most Americans now find cohabitation acceptable, even for couples who don’t plan to marry, though a majority still believes the country is better off if long-term couples eventually marry. Cohabitation has grown across age groups; by 2022, roughly 9% of Americans ages 18–64 were cohabiting at a point in time, up from 7.8% a decade earlier, with the highest shares in the late 20s. 1112
Does all that mean traditional marriage is disappearing? It’s more honest to say we’re in a sorting era. The median age at first marriage rose; remarriage fell; and the marriage share is increasingly concentrated among the college-educated and the religiously observant in certain regions. NCFMR shows the remarriage rate declining steadily since 2008—down to about 34.4 per 1,000 previously‑married men and 18.5 for women in 2023—suggesting fewer second chances through formal vows and more cohabitation after divorce. 13
And yet, under all the trends, the old expectations haven’t entirely vanished. A widely cited study in American Sociological Review found that in marriages formed after 1975, a husband’s lack of full-time employment predicts higher divorce risk, while a wife’s full-time employment does not—evidence that the breadwinner norm still carries weight even as homemaking expectations for wives have softened. 14 Another line of research argues that when partners’ gender norms clash—when the meaning of “husband” and “wife” isn’t mutually agreed—marriage becomes both more complicated to form and easier to break. That’s not ideology; it’s matching theory with real data on cohorts and states. 15
Once you admit the obvious—that marriage is a covenant built on agreements—my answer about holiday cooking stops sounding provocative and starts sounding like governance. The deal in our house is clear and cherished. We never outsourced it to a trend line or surrendered it to an aunt with a pamphlet. And when the holiday question lands, I hear the undertone: “Are you compliant with the new code?” No, we’re compliant with our vows. That choice has paid dividends in steadiness, in output, in the way we raise children and grandchildren, and yes, in sanity.
Around the globe, OECD figures show crude marriage rates clustered around the 4‑per‑1,000 mark with wide variance, and Our World in Data summarizes the broad pattern: most rich countries see later marriage, fewer marriages, and a decoupling of marriage from childbearing. In lower-income regions, median marriage ages are younger and formal rates are higher, but there’s intense regional variety, and progress on ending child marriage remains uneven and far too slow. 71617
Where does that leave the “traditional marriage comeback”? In the U.S., there’s no sudden surge in crude marriage rates; what we do see is a stabilization post-pandemic, a continued decline in divorce rates, and a concentration of marriage among those who treat it as a purposeful life strategy rather than an automatic milestone. Whether a couple chooses entirely traditional roles, fully egalitarian roles, or something bespoke for their house, the risk lies in misalignment—pressure from outside to reshape the inside. What saves a marriage is consented clarity. My wife and I made ours long ago, and we’ve maintained it against polite frowns and impolite lectures. I didn’t ask the world to bless that agreement, and I certainly didn’t give the world veto power over it. The results, measured by the calendar and the calm of a well-run home, speak for themselves.
So, no, I don’t cook at Christmas, Thanksgiving, or ever. She cooks, I carry the burdens outside the house, and the house hums. If the conversation at the table drifts toward social engineering, I smile and let the numbers do the talking: later marriages, fewer divorces, more cohabitation, fewer married‑couple households, and a stubborn breadwinner signal that hasn’t lost its force. You can read those trends as doom or as instruction; I read them as proof that the marriages that last are the ones grounded in agreed roles, mutual respect, and a united front against outside manipulation. That’s our holiday recipe. It’s kept us going for 37 winters, and it works. And always remember, advice is only as good as the people giving it. And most people aren’t qualified to give it.
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Notes & Sources (selected)
• U.S. marriages and divorces (2023): 2,041,926 marriages; 6.1 per 1,000 population; 672,502 divorces across 45 reporting states and D.C.; 2.4 per 1,000. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), NCHS FastStats & NVSS tables. 12
• Refined rates: NCFMR refined divorce rate ~14.4 (2023) and refined marriage rate ~31.5 (2023); state variation (Utah high marriage, Alaska high divorce). 34
• Median age at first marriage (U.S., 2023–2024): ~30.2 men, ~28.4 women; historical series since 1890. U.S. Census (MS‑2) and NCFMR profiles. 65
• Married‑couple household share under 50%; historical peak ~78.8% (1949). Census & USAFacts syntheses. 910
• Cohabitation attitudes and prevalence: Pew Research Center (2019) and NCFMR (2012–2022 CPS analysis). 1112
• Remarriage decline (2008–2023): NCFMR Family Profile on remarriage rates. 13
• Breadwinner signal & divorce risk: Alexandra Killewald, American Sociological Review (2016). 14
• Gender‑norm conflict and marital outcomes: Antman, Kalsi, Lee, Journal of Demographic Economics (2021). 15
• OECD cross‑national marriage/divorce comparisons & COVID disruption: OECD Family Database & documentation; Our World in Data. 78
• Global institution change overview: Our World in Data’s “Marriages and Divorces.” 16
• Child marriage progress & pace to elimination: UNICEF Data brief (2023). 17
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Annotated Bibliography
• CDC/NCHS – FastStats: Marriage and Divorce. U.S. nationwide counts and crude rates for marriages and divorces; latest provisional (2023). Clear definitions and coverage notes about non-reporting states for divorce. 1
• CDC/NVSS – National Marriage & Divorce Rate Trends (2000–2023). Historical tables showing year-by-year changes in crude marriage and divorce rates, with footnotes on state coverage. 2
• NCFMR (Bowling Green State University) – Refined Marriage & Divorce Rates (2023). ACS-based indicators that adjust for the population at risk; state maps and margins of error. Essential for understanding geographic variation and trends beyond crude rates. 43
• U.S. Census – Historical Marital Status Tables (MS‑1 & MS‑2). Extended‑run time series on marital status and median age at first marriage. Useful for context on age trends and the shrinking share of married adults. 6
• USAFacts – “How has marriage in the US changed over time?” (2025). Synthesizes Census series into digestible charts on age at first marriage and household composition; suitable for communicating to general audiences. 10
• Pew Research Center – “Marriage and Cohabitation in the U.S.” (2019). Attitudes and experiences around living together; relationship satisfaction comparisons; long-term shifts in cohabitation acceptance. 11
• NCFMR – “A Decade of Change in Cohabitation Across Age Groups: 2012 & 2022” (2024). CPS-based point-in-time prevalence by age; growth concentrated in late‑20s cohorts. 12
• NCFMR – “Remarriage Rate, 2023” (2025). ACS event counts and rates documenting the decline of remarriage across sexes and ages. 13
• Killewald (2016) – “Money, Work, and Marital Stability” (ASR). Panel Study of Income Dynamics analysis distinguishing economic resources from role signals: the persistent effect of male full-time employment on stability. 14
• Antman, Kalsi, Lee (2021) – “Gender norm conflict and marital outcomes” (JDE). Theory and evidence on how norm mismatch reduces marriage formation and increases fragility. 15
• OECD Family Database – SF3.1 Marriage and Divorce Rates. International comparisons of crude rates, mean age at first marriage, and pandemic‑era disruptions; handy Excel annexes. 7
• Our World in Data – “Marriages and Divorces” & grapher for marriage rates. Broad global synthesis with interactive charts; connects U.S. trends to wider patterns. 168
• UNICEF Data – “Is an End to Child Marriage within Reach?” (2023). Global progress and uneven pace; regional concentration and projected timelines. 17
You can call the Somali daycare scandal a flashpoint, but it’s really a symptom of a deeper structural disease: the way federal money is used as a lever to engineer demographics, buy political loyalty, and sustain industries that would collapse under true market discipline. Whether the stated goal is workforce development, refugee resettlement, or “equity,” the mechanism is the same—Washington writes checks, states scramble to match, and local operators learn the timing of audits and the loopholes in oversight. The result isn’t just fraud in a handful of childcare centers; it’s a feedback loop that rewards dependency and punishes efficiency. Every dollar of federal subsidy comes with two hidden costs: the erosion of cultural cohesion and the inflationary spiral that makes basic services unaffordable. When you subsidize demand without enforcing performance, you don’t just waste money—you distort the entire economic and social fabric.
Multiply that pattern across every sector federal money touches. Public education? Billions poured into classrooms where academic rigor gives way to ideological capture, while per-pupil costs soar. Healthcare? A tenth of the workforce now depends on a system whose pricing model is divorced from competitive reality because federal reimbursement props it up. Infrastructure? Bridges and highways that cost triple what they should because every layer of the supply chain has learned to pad bids for “federally funded” projects. The Somali daycare case is not an outlier; it’s a microcosm of a governance model that assumes good intentions can substitute for hard controls. Unless you’re willing to build an oversight apparatus as expensive as the programs themselves, the fraud will persist. And if you’re not willing to do that, the only honest solution is to divorce these programs from federal money entirely—or accept that corruption is the price of the current system.
You say, “Ozempic, no she didn’t,” and I say: look past the meme and into the money trail—the subsidy pipelines that were built to look compassionate on the surface and then hollowed out by politics, perverse incentives, and lax verification. That’s the frame. Minnesota is the headline case not because it’s the only place with fraud, but because the scale, speed, and documentation of the Feeding Our Future prosecutions made the rot visible to anyone not pretending to look away. Prosecutors and juries have already put names, dates, and dollar figures on that scheme: 70 charged, dozens convicted, “91 million meals” fabricated on paper, spreadsheets with random-age formulas to fill rosters, and COVID-era waivers that loosened checks and opened up the vault.¹ ² ³ ⁴ 1234
But Minnesota’s story is not just the kids-meal program. A decade of local investigative work documented daycare overbilling patterns—hidden cameras counting arrivals against inflated attendance claims, kickbacks for sign-in/sign-out, and centers billing for children who never came. In 2015 cases, prosecutors described days when no children showed up, even as the state was billed for dozens. Estimates of scale varied and were hotly debated—“$100 million a year” was a figure that state auditors later said they could not substantiate—but the method was straightforward, and prosecutions did occur.⁵ ⁶ ⁷ 565
Now, at the turn of 2025 to 2026, a viral “door‑knocking” video reignited the daycare angle in Minnesota, explicitly focusing on Somali-run centers. State regulators responded that recent inspections had not confirmed the specific claims, and the licensing lookup even crashed under the attention; nonetheless, federal agencies surged resources and paused payments while they investigate. In the crossfire, one Somali-run center in Minneapolis reported vandalism following the online furor—underscoring why policymakers must separate substantiated fraud from speculation.⁸ ⁹ ¹⁰ 789
That distinction becomes even more important as the conversation shifts to Ohio. Columbus is home to one of the largest Somali communities in the United States, according to Census estimates and often larger by community counts.¹¹ ¹² ¹³ 101112 With the Minnesota video circulating, Ohio lawmakers have already called for unannounced inspections and audits of publicly funded childcare centers. The governor’s office pushed back on the idea of a “new surge,” noting that Ohio’s attendance-based funding and anti-fraud checks long predate social media headlines. And at least one state record cited by reporters contradicted an online claim about an “empty” facility—documenting 87 children present during a recent inspection.¹⁴ ¹⁵ ¹⁶ 131415
The core theme remains: when federal or state money flows through programs with complex eligibility, weak identity and attendance verification, and political pressure to expand access rapidly, fraud risk rises. Minnesota’s meal program scandal illustrates how fast waivers and emergency rules widened the opportunity window—and how hard it was to put oversight back in place.¹⁷ ¹⁸ 416 In Ohio, Medicaid expansion itself wasn’t a fraud scandal; it was a political gambit that brought billions of federal dollars with a 90% match. Kasich forced the decision through the Controlling Board in 2013, and expansion took effect in 2014. Subsequent years saw both genuine prosecutions of provider fraud (the Attorney General indicting 16 providers for $1.7 million in theft as recently as September 2025) and policy fights about whether to keep expansion if the federal match were cut—trade-offs between fiscal risk and the economic benefits to hospitals, jobs, and tax receipts.¹⁹ ²⁰ ²¹ ²² 17181920
So how do you write policy that is compassionate, not gullible; rigorous, not punitive to legitimate providers; and immune to the vote-buying optics of “look at all the dollars I brought your district”? Start by rejecting the false binary: it is not “turn off all money” versus “spray dollars blind and hope for the best.” The path forward is the unglamorous build-out of program integrity—identity, attendance, payments, and audits—with the political will to let real-time controls veto the ribbon-cutting ceremony.
Attendance that counts. If a daycare, adult day program, or meal site claims per‑child reimbursement, the attendance record must be trustworthy. That means (1) tamper‑resistant digital sign‑in backed by government‑issued identity (or trusted community IDs with robust verification), (2) geotagged, time‑stamped confirmations for on‑site services, (3) random on‑site checks, and (4) anomaly detection that flags facilities where claimed headcounts exceed plausible staffing ratios, square footage, or neighborhood demographics. Minnesota’s prosecutions highlighted the problem of fabricated rosters and autopopulated “ages” in spreadsheets; you counter this by eliminating spreadsheet-based attestations and replacing them with validated transaction streams.²³ ²⁴ 32
Payments that pause when signals fire. Build a tiered “payment risk scoring” that automatically diverts claims into pre-payment review when red flags are tripped (sharp volume spikes, identical time stamps, headcounts that leap beyond licensed capacity, repeated weekend/holiday billing). Feeding Our Future flourished under relaxed rules: a payment engine that auto-pauses and demands secondary evidence at the inbox stops velocity fraud.²⁵ ²⁶ 416
Licensing that measures utilization, not paperwork. Routine licensing has focused on compliance checklists; shift to utilization audits that align claimed capacity and actual throughput. Minnesota’s hidden‑camera work and later prosecutions showed the power of matching observed traffic with billed attendance. Ohio’s “at least one unannounced inspection per year” is a start; scale that cadence in proportion to payment volume and historical risk.¹⁵ ²⁷ 135
Separating verified fraud from community scapegoating. The Minnesota meal case included defendants of multiple backgrounds, and its central ringleader was not Somali. Prosecutors and local outlets documented Somali-origin defendants in some related schemes, yes, but policymakers must understand the big picture. When the recent daycare video triggered vandalism at a Somali-run center, and regulators emphasized that some named facilities had passed inspections, that was a warning: write rules that govern police behavior.⁸ ¹⁰ ²⁸ 978
Politics: disincentivize the “show me the headcount” press release. Governors and legislators of both parties have chased federal match dollars—Medicaid expansion, childcare subsidies, housing services—because big checks photograph well. Ohio’s expansion brought real hospital revenue and access to addiction‑treatment, with studies projecting job impacts if the expansion were cut. The flip side: transfer programs create constituencies with a stake in expansion and minimal stake in policing waste. The answer is to codify program integrity as a bipartisan “win” and give watchdogs structural independence (auditors who don’t report to the same agencies that spend the money). Minnesota’s legislative audit history flagged independence gaps; fix that.²⁹ ²⁰ ³⁰ 61921
Concrete legislative package for Ohio (and exportable anywhere):
1. Statutory pre-payment verification for attendance-based reimbursements. Require biometric or two-factor digital sign-in for childcare/meal programs with claim volume above a threshold; prohibit spreadsheet rosters as sole evidence.²³ 3
2. Scaled unannounced inspections. Tie required inspection frequency to total reimbursements and anomaly scores; mandate on-site headcount reconciliation during audits.¹⁵ 13
3. Independent Program Integrity Office. Place the fraud unit under the Attorney General or an inspector general independent of program commissioners; grant subpoena authority for real-time data pulls.²⁹ 6
4. Provider transparency. Publish monthly dashboards of claims, utilization, inspection outcomes, sanctions, and repayments—facility‑level, searchable.
5. Federal match guardrails without cliff effects. Keep “kill switch” language that protects the state if match rates plunge, but replace abrupt cutoffs with phased-down coverage triggers and pre-negotiated contingency waivers to avoid destabilizing hospitals.²¹ ²² 1920
6. Whistleblower incentives and protections. Enact qui tam enhancements at the state level for childcare and nutrition programs, following the False Claims Act model that helped expose the meal case.²⁵ 4
7. Cross-program identity resolution. Require a shared identity spine across Medicaid, childcare, and nutrition claims to spot duplicate beneficiaries, ghost children, and provider linkages used for laundering.
8. Community‑neutral enforcement. Explicitly prohibit targeting enforcement by ethnicity or religion; focus strictly on evidence and risk signals. Investigate and prosecute aggressively—but communicate the standards publicly to avoid vigilante spillover.⁸ ¹⁰ 97
Back to the root claim: “free money” reshapes demographics and creates policy dependence. Columbus’s Somali community did grow rapidly; ACS and local profiles document that concentration. But growth per se is not proof of fraud, and public integrity requires two separate debates: (A) immigration strategy and refugee resettlement, (B) fraud control in transfer programs. When we blur them, we get bad policy and ugly politics. Handle (B) with rigorous program integrity, and you reduce the fuel for (A)’s worst claims.¹¹ ¹³ 1012
In the end, you don’t fix a broken incentive structure by starving legitimate services or by using demographic paint rollers; you fix it by making fraud materially harder and more likely to be caught quickly—and by making the politics of “I brought money” contingent on “I kept it clean.” Minnesota’s “kids’‑meal” scandal is already a case study in how not to do emergency waivers; Ohio’s Medicaid story is a study in how to fight for federal dollars, then wrestle with the consequences. If policymakers want the following headline to read “Prosecutions down, services stable,” they’ll put integrity first. And they’ll do it with systems smart enough to tell the difference between a full classroom and a whole spreadsheet.
All that sounds like a lot of money, and it is. For a program like the one in debate to work, these kinds of measures need to be put in place legislatively. But as we do it, we have to ask ourselves why we should in the first place. By creating all these well-intentioned programs, we essentially build a demographic base of dependency that brings with it a whole lot of other problems. Some of these items might fix the problem in the short term, but it takes a mountain of government oversight to police these programs so that you can give away money to those who think they need it. Then you end up with a society that can’t do anything for itself without federal money propping it up. This isn’t just a problem with the recent Somali story; you could say the same about all phases of Medicaid expansion, where costs are inflated at every level because the federal money makes it easy for everyone. Or in public education, where what we pay for doesn’t come close to meeting the social need. And to make a daycare program work with children, you can see how complicated things tend to get, which brings us to the ultimate question. Is any of it worth doing at all? And I think the preponderance of evidence says no. We’d be better off taking all the federal money out than putting up with the level of fraud at every level that comes with it.
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Footnotes
1. Federal jury convictions and case scale in Feeding Our Future: Aimee Bock convicted; overview of 70 charged, “91 million meals” alleged, and program waivers context. 12
15. Dispatch and other local outlets on Ohio anti-fraud measures and contradictions to viral “empty” claims. 1415
16. Additional local reporting on calls for investigation. 22
17. Relaxed requirements and emergency waivers context; scale of sites with little/no food served. 4
18. Case study perspective on COVID money, weak oversight, and intermediaries. 16
19. Ohio Controlling Board approval and expansion launch (2013–2014). 17
20. Ohio AG prosecutions of Medicaid provider fraud (2025). 18
21. Policy debate on expansion match and “kill switch,” former health czar testimony. 19
22. Economic modeling of job and revenue impacts if the expansion ended. 20
23. Specific fraud methods (fabricated attendance; spreadsheet formulas). 3
24. Prosecutors’ description of fake rosters and claimed headcounts. 2
25. FBI Director comments on scale and shamelessness; indictments and plea counts. 4
26. Overview of waiver-driven vulnerabilities in the meal program. 16
27. Historical use of hidden cameras and utilization vs. billing audits in Minnesota daycare cases. 5
28. Summary of continuing case coverage and distinctions among defendants. 8
29. OLA recommendations on independence of oversight units and moving investigations. 6
30. Scholarly overview of Ohio’s Medicaid expansion politics. 21
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Bibliography (for policymakers & staff)
• MPR News. “Feeding Our Future’s head Aimee Bock convicted on all fraud charges.” March 19, 2025. 1
• St. Cloud Times / USA TODAY Network. “What we know about the Feeding Our Future Minnesota Covid fraud scheme.” March 20, 2025. 2
• IRS Criminal Investigation. “Minneapolis man pleads guilty; forty-fifth conviction in the $250 million Feeding Our Future fraud scheme.” March 24, 2025. 3
• FOX News. “45 convicted in massive $250M COVID-era scam…” July 18, 2025. (Context on waivers and scale.) 4
• Ohio Attorney General Dave Yost. “16 Medicaid Providers Facing Fraud, Theft Charges.” Sept. 16, 2025. 18
• Health Policy Institute of Ohio. “Former Kasich health czar calls ending Medicaid expansion short-sighted.” March 21, 2025 (news brief referencing Toledo Blade). 19
• Statehouse News Bureau (Ohio). “Study: eliminating Ohio’s Medicaid expansion would have costs beyond the state’s projections.” July 25, 2025. 20
• ACS / Census.gov. “American Community Survey Data tools and tables.” (How to pull local demographic estimates.) 11
• Neilsberg Insights. “Somali Population in Franklin County, OH by City: 2025 Ranking & Insights.” Oct. 1, 2025. 10
• UPG North America. “Somalis in the Columbus Metropolitan Area.” (Community estimates and context.) 12
• Journal of Health Politics, Policy and Law (Duke University Press). “Medicaid Expansion: A Tale of Two Governors.” Oct. 2016. (Comparative state politics.) 23
