​Formative Experiences and the Path to Public Service
Ben Wolf: Congressman Subramanyam, it’s great to speak with you. The Pathway Blog is a student-led platform that aims to give students like myself a better understanding into career paths in politics, foreign affairs, public policy, and other similar fields. Let’s get right into it.
My first question for you is: looking back on your personal journey and public-service trajectory, which experiences or formative moments do you consider most important—the ones that ultimately shaped your decision to seek elected office?
Suhas Subramanyam: I always look back to when I was at Tulane and Hurricane Katrina hit the city. I really felt like it was an opportunity to help rebuild and serve the community. I found immense purpose and joy in doing that, and it’s what launched my interest in getting involved in public service.
I don’t think my plan at the time was ever to run for office. It was mostly to try to make things better in the community. That was certainly a formative experience.
I also had the opportunity to work for a member of Congress and see firsthand the impact you can have on the country and the world. That was pretty formative for me as well. Working on Capitol Hill after college—even though it was for less than two years—gave me a really great perspective on how impactful public service can be. That stuck with me as a state legislator and now in Congress.

Policy Priorities Shaped by Early Experiences
BW: And how do some of those early experiences influence the kinds of policies and priorities that you bring to Congress today?
SS: Clearly one of the reasons I got more political was because I care deeply about the environment. I care a lot about making sure everyone can pursue and reach the American dream—having a strong education system, a strong support system, and giving people the tools to unlock their potential. Those priorities haven’t really changed over the years.
I’ve definitely picked up others based on my experiences. For instance, I’ve worked a lot in tech—especially in emerging tech and entrepreneurship. I’ve seen both the challenges and the potential of starting a business. Those experiences have guided my priorities.
I usually try to find things that aren’t really happening on Capitol Hill, or that are underserved there, and build on those. Right now, technology expertise is one of those areas. That’s helped guide what I’m prioritizing.

Law School, Wrongful Convictions, and Lessons on Justice
BW: Before entering elected office, you also pursued a law degree, including contributing to overturning Jacques Rivera’s wrongful conviction. What lessons from that period continue to influence how you think about justice, accountability, and your own role as a legislator?
SS: Wow, what a blast from the past. Back when I worked on that case, Jacques Rivera had been wrongfully accused of murder, and I had the opportunity to work with the legal team that helped get him out.
What I took away from that experience is that the justice system has a lot of problems in America. Pretending that it doesn’t is not just naïve—it’s dangerous, because you end up putting innocent people in jail. The system works best for people who have a lot of money, and beyond that, it isn’t always fair.
Getting a law degree helped shape my career and inform me as a state legislator, and now in Congress. When I run into questions about whether a statute is legal or constitutional, it’s nice to be able to do my own statutory interpretation and have my own informed perspective, instead of having to rely on others.

To Go or Not to Go: The Law School Question
BW: Staying on that note of law school: as someone considering a future in both law and politics, I often think about the trade-offs of attending law school—especially today, when it’s more competitive, more expensive, and less linear than it once was. What went into your decision to pursue a law degree? And do you feel it was essential for your development as a policymaker?
SS: I always tell people: go to law school if you want to be a lawyer—or if you happen to have three years and a lot of money to spend. Most people don’t have the latter, so I usually just ask people straight up whether they want to be a lawyer.
If they’re not sure, I tell them to hold off on law school until they are. Law school is a prerequisite for becoming a lawyer in almost every state, and it gives you the foundation to do that. But it’s not really required if you want to be in public policy, or if you want a degree in something other than law.
It doesn’t hurt to have that foundation—it’s just a very expensive and time-consuming way of learning a lot. A better way to learn a lot without becoming a lawyer is to read books on the area of law you’re interested in and some foundational texts. That can be done without a law degree.

Political Communication in a Hyper-Public Age
BW: We’ll circle back to the reading recommendations in a bit. But I first want to ask you, in an era where political interactions are highly public and the media ecosystem leaves little room for private dialogue, how does that affect the way you communicate with your colleagues in Congress? Do you feel pressured to filter yourself? And how frequent are candid, off-camera conversations among members?
SS: I try to be candid. I never thought I would be here [in Congress], but now that I am, I’ve always disliked politicians giving canned responses that don’t sound genuine.
Even if I make mistakes at times or change my mind, I’d rather be candid and make a mistake than be phony and perfectly curated. That’s just my personality and what I value.
That said, there are definitely times when you have to be careful. Words matter, and you don’t want people to take your words out of context—but that’s always been the case. I generally assume that someone is listening at all times anyway.
I also try not to be paranoid about it. I try to be authentic.

Bipartisanship, Coalitions, and Governing in a Divided Congress
BW: As a newly elected member entering a closely divided Congress, how do you approach building genuine working relationships across ideological lines? Are there particular committees, caucuses, or issue coalitions where you see the greatest potential for bipartisan progress?
SS: I think, like in all walks of life, building coalitions is about relationships and people. If there’s someone who genuinely wants to work with me—even if they’re a Republican—I’m never going to say no.
To me, this job isn’t about my ego or anything other than doing the best we can for our country. I always welcome collaboration. If the other side genuinely wants to collaborate, I’m happy to do so. I usually try to build coalitions by building relationships with people first, even on a personal level, and then trying to find common ground.
I also try not to take things personally, even when it’s very hard. If someone passes a policy that’s really bad for my community, it can be difficult to then turn around and work with them on another issue. But I think that’s part of the job—to not have permanent friends or permanent enemies, and to find your allies issue by issue.

State vs. Federal Government: What Changes?
BW: I really appreciate your time, Congressman. We’re getting to our last few questions here. Having served at both the state and federal levels, what do you see as the most meaningful differences between the two? What should aspiring public servants understand about how policymaking and constituent expectations change across those environments?
SS: The basic difference between the state and federal levels, from what I’ve seen so far, is the amount of public attention that’s on Congress compared to the state level.
At the state level, we didn’t deal with budgets this large or this level of scrutiny. One of the reasons I ran at the state level was because I felt it didn’t get enough attention and that I could really make an impact there—which I feel I did.
In Congress, every vote and everything you do is scrutinized—and it can also be twisted. On any given vote, you never know if someone is going to find one line in a bill, take it out of context, and use it. Sometimes the bills we work on have flaws, but they’re the best we can do or they represent a compromise.
For someone who aspires to do everything as well as possible, it can be frustrating to compromise. But it’s part of the job, as long as you’re not compromising your values. In Congress you’re dealing with people from all over the country, not just your state, and that requires more deliberation and more compromise at times. That’s different.

Facing the Big Tests Ahead
​BW: Looking ahead, what do you anticipate will be the biggest test for you in Congress? And how are you preparing, both politically and personally, to navigate it?
SS: I think I’ve already seen some of it, which is the attack on the federal workforce and the impact it would have on Virginia and our Commonwealth. I talked a lot about this during the campaign last year—that gutting the federal workforce would be a self-imposed recession. I said we’d see efforts to gut the federal workforce and potentially a shutdown.
Now we’ve seen both. That’s been helpful in showing people that federal workers are really essential to running this country. When you fire them en masse, it has real consequences for the country.
We’re already seeing a lot of federal workers and contractors having to be rehired after being let go, and I think we’re going to see more of that.
One thing I hope to do in the future is a full government modernization program. My experience in government has shown me that the problem isn’t the federal workers—it’s all of the regulatory hoops they have to jump through and all of the burdens on their shoulders. That makes their jobs much harder.
When Congress passes well-intended but not always effective laws, it can lead to delays in providing services to the American people. There have also been cuts at agencies that were more ideological than practical—cutting overhead in ways that actually hurt service delivery.
When you make cuts to places like Social Security offices, you end up with really long delays. To me, we’re cutting in the wrong places. We should be cutting unnecessary regulation rather than cutting the people who keep things running smoothly and actually prevent waste, fraud, and abuse.

Government Modernization: A Long-Overdue Project
BW: A government modernization project, could you tell me more about that? What do you see as the timetable for it?
SS: It should have started yesterday. It should have started many years ago.
But I’ve already pushed several bills forward—some of which have passed—on government modernization. I’ve got five I’m voting on today, and there will be more in the next couple of months that I’m introducing.
It’s bipartisan, and it’s the kind of work that will not only save us money as a country but save us a lot of time as far as providing services. And it doesn’t require firing people. I think we can do government modernization a lot better than we have—certainly much better than what’s been done so far.

Advice for Young People Entering Public Service
BW: That sounds really promising. We’re wishing you the best of luck in that passing.
Just the last two questions here, Congressman. First: for college students and young people interested in public service, advocacy, or politics, what guidance would you offer on navigating early-career decisions, developing expertise, and finding a sense of purpose in public-facing work?
SS: If you want to get involved in public policy or community engagement, just get involved! Find organizations or elected officials who are doing work that interests you and ask if they have internships or opportunities where you can help.
Sometimes it starts with things that are not glamorous—knocking doors, writing postcards—but even that work is valuable. It lets you see how people receive public policy.
I always tell people: find what’s interesting to you and engage in it right now. And be willing to work for free at first if that’s what it takes to get your foot in the door. That’s what I did.

Reading Recs
BW: And finally, you mentioned earlier that even if you don’t get a law degree, you can still learn a lot by reading law books. On that note of reading: for those who hope to follow a path similar to yours, what books, essays, or pieces of writing have most influenced you? What do you recommend to students preparing for work in public service?
SS: That’s a really good question. I really like this book called Getting to Maybe. I wish I’d read it before law school.
It gives you a great baseline foundation for what being a lawyer—and being good at law school—is all about. Essentially, it talks about how you should learn to use the facts from both sides in any argument. As a lawyer, you might sometimes represent a side that has a really tough case, and your gut might say they’re going to lose.
But then you dive into the facts from their perspective and realize the facts can actually be on your side if you dig deep enough and align them with the right precedent. I think a lot about Getting to Maybe when I think about my time as a lawyer and in law school.

BW: Congressman, this has been incredibly insightful. I can’t thank you enough for taking this time with me—I really appreciate it.
SS: Yeah, no problem at all—and Roll Wave! I hope they win on Friday.
BW: Yep, fingers crossed!

Early Career and Breaking In
BW: Mr. Greene, thanks so much for taking the time to speak with me, I really appreciate it. For those who may not be familiar with your career path, how would you describe it to them?
LG: Happy to. I’m always glad to talk about this because I didn’t come from a world where anyone did journalism. My dad worked for GE, my mom worked for the Social Security Administration, and growing up in Atlanta meant I wasn't anywhere near a media hub. Some people come out of New York or Washington knowing dozens of people in journalism or politics or publishing. If you don’t come from that world, it can feel completely opaque.
At Tulane, a group of friends and I ended up creating a humor magazine called Brouhaha. We were refugees from the Hullabaloo and wanted something irreverent and satirical. The whole thing was basically made up—fake news, absurd sketches. We interviewed random New Orleanians and anyone interesting who came to campus. If a musician or actor came to speak, we’d request an interview, and more often than not they’d say yes. That magazine was where we learned how to write, edit, and make each other laugh—and funny enough, a remarkable number of us ended up in journalism.
After Tulane, I went to Oxford as a Marshall Scholar and did a master’s in European politics. My undergraduate work had been history and international relations, and at Oxford I focused on comparative political systems and the EU. The best advice I received—and now give—is: know what you know. Ask yourself: What do I genuinely know more about than the people around me? What interests me deeply enough that I could talk about it comfortably for thirty minutes? Develop that. When you're right out of school, your résumé is basically blank. Having a subject you’re known for helps people remember you.
For me, that was Europe. It wasn’t a common American focus at the time, so it gave me something to offer.
Still, even with languages, degrees, and a Marshall, it wasn’t easy. I spent nearly a year in New York sending cold CVs into the void. I came very close to taking a marketing internship. Then, through a chain of friends-of-friends—literally: me, friend, her friend, her boss, his colleague—I found someone at the Economist Intelligence Unit who happened to need help for a project.
He needed someone to write research pieces on the emerging e-commerce regulations in places like the Philippines, Indonesia, and Brazil. I knew nothing about that, but I knew how to learn. That one opportunity turned into two days a week, then into being in the room in 2000 when Economist.com built its first proper website team. Because it was the dot-com boom, there were resources, enthusiasm, and—crucially—more willingness to take chances on people with less experience.
That’s how I got in—and from there I just never left.​


From Dot-Com Editor to “the Language Guy”
LG: After a few years on the website, I became our breaking-news writer on American politics online. I covered the 2004 and 2008 elections. Then I moved onto the magazine proper on the business side. After that, I was sent to Berlin as our business and finance correspondent. Eventually, I ended up at our London headquarters for six years in editing roles, and now I’m in Spain as a senior digital editor.
Along the way, I developed a second identity—unexpectedly—as “the language guy.” That wasn’t planned. I had always loved languages, and I seemed to have a knack for learning them. Over time I started pitching pieces on linguistics to our Science section. Then I started reading linguistics books and realizing there was an entire field about how language actually works in the mind. I fell in love with it.
Eventually I became one of the few journalists writing regularly about language in a way linguists respected. There’s a lot of bad language journalism out there. Earning trust by writing non-stupid things—over many years—is what allowed me to build that niche. Today, if you asked linguists which journalist knows their field best, I think many of them would say me. That reputation wasn’t part of the original plan. It just accumulated.


What Makes a Pitch Work
BW: That was a terrific intro Mr. Greene, thank you. And it leads me right into my next question: many of our readers likely want to dive into journalism themselves—we’ve hosted many journalists on the blog. So, from your side of the desk, what turns a pitch from “maybe” to “yes”? And what’s a red flag that says “maybe this isn’t ready yet”?
LG: That’s a good question. So a lot of students think journalism is like writing a good college paper: do the homework, master the background, and the professor gives you a good grade. That’s actually the minimum requirement for journalism—understanding the background.
But journalism is fundamentally different from academia. What makes journalism journalism is that you’re trying to find a story that hasn’t been told yet. You’re trying to uncover something people don’t already know. And also, AI cannot do this—it can only remix what's already been written.
At The Economist, we say: you’re pitching a rubric, not a topic
​The standfirst is the bold sentence under the headline that captures the story’s argument.
If someone pitches a topic the editor will ask, “Okay, but what are you saying? What’s your argument? What’s going to happen?” That’s the red flag: pitching a topic instead of a story.
If you can write one sentence that clearly states your argument, you probably have a story. If you can’t, you don’t yet know what you’re saying.


On Learning Abroad
BW: On that note of studying at Oxford, I’m curious—what did that time studying abroad teach you about writing that your time in undergrad in the United States didn’t? Terms to avoid, context to add, assumptions that don’t travel, etc.?
LG: That’s a good question. I’m not sure I ever consciously thought about “assumptions that don’t travel,” but living abroad absolutely forces you to confront what a close friend of mine calls “the dark matter of culture.” When we think about culture, we tend to picture the obvious things—flags, food, clothes. But the “dark matter” is the tiny, unspoken assumptions you don’t realize you’re carrying around until you’re somewhere else and they suddenly don’t apply.
Some of that is fascinating, but you have to pay attention to it, because people often aren’t even aware of those assumptions themselves.
In Britain, for instance, I had to learn very quickly that being entertaining—both in conversation and in writing—is paramount. American journalism, as the British like to say, can be a bit “po-faced.” It’s not a compliment. It means earnest, slightly self-satisfied about its own seriousness and professionalism. British journalists love a good yarn. They’re allergic to taking yourself too seriously—or being seen to take yourself too seriously, to imagine you’re more ethical or hardworking or important than anyone else.
You still need to work hard, of course. But British culture values pretending you’re not working hard.
Even after twenty-five years at The Economist, I’m still sometimes tripped up by being an American in a British institution. Maybe an editor gave me criticism very directly and I misread the tone, or they offered feedback in such a subtle way that my American brain didn’t register it. That sort of thing still happens. It’s like learning a language as an adult—you’ll get good, but you’ll always have an accent.
That’s the analogy that fits culture, too. I have a pretty good handle on British culture now, but I’ll never be mistaken for a native. I’m inescapably American.


Developing a Beat without Becoming a Caricature
BW: You talked earlier about building a brand or niche. For students, that can feel daunting—like you’re locking yourself into one identity forever. Bret Stephens once told me in an interview that instead of majoring in journalism, students should study a substantive field, like Middle Eastern studies, and build expertise there. How do you recommend developing a beat without turning into a caricature of yourself?
LG: Bret’s completely right. I say the same thing. But fundamentally journalism is a trade—you learn it by doing it. You’re not going to be great at the beginning. You need a few years just to get to “competent,” a few more to get to “journeyman.”
It’s not something you learn by studying journalism. You learn law in a classroom, or chemistry. Journalism relies on those people—the subject-matter experts. A good newsroom should have people who studied all sorts of things, not just political science or history like I did.
And the good news is you don’t get stuck in whatever you start with. Tom Friedman began as a Middle East specialist—he studied it, went to Beirut, covered it. But now he writes these big, sweeping essays on geopolitics and economics. He didn’t get trapped as “the Middle East guy.”
Same goes for science reporters, legal reporters—people start with a specialty, but it doesn’t confine you. It helps you get the first job, and then you keep learning.
Over my career I’ve covered culture, business, politics, finance, language—all over the map. Every new beat is like giving yourself a miniature master’s degree. I feel like I’ve earned six of them by now.
So my advice is: have a strength, but cultivate a portfolio. Build depth in one area, but stay curious about many others. No one will pay you to cover one thing for forty years—and you wouldn’t want to anyway.


Three Reads to Make Young Writers Clearer and Braver
BW: I know our time is running out here so I want to ask you if you had to choose three regular reads—books, essays, newsletters—to help young writers become clearer and braver, what would you assign?
LG: I should mention that I wrote the book Writing with Style: The Economist Guide—which is all about stripping clutter from your prose, ditching highfalutin vocabulary, simplifying tortured syntax, and returning to plain, everyday English. There’s even a bit of linguistic history in there—Anglo-Saxon vs. French or Latin roots. So I’ll plug that since I literally wrote the book.
But let me give you three others.
First, George Orwell’s 1947 essay “Politics and the English Language.” It’s foundational. Those six rules of his formed the basis of our style guide. I read it in the middle of my master’s thesis at Oxford—my writing was stiff, academic, self-consciously impressive—and Orwell embarrassed me out of that. Afterward, all I wanted to do was write clear, vivid, active prose. His nonfiction—like “Shooting an Elephant”—is beautiful.
Second, Steven Pinker’s The Sense of Style. Pinker is a linguist, a cognitive scientist, a psychologist—and a wonderfully clear writer. He explains why some sentences are easier to read than others, how language works in the mind. It’s full of linguistics and cognitive science, but it’s fun. I fell in love with language partly through his Language Instinct, but The Sense of Style is a phenomenal guide.
Third—and this is out of left field—Martin Amis. He’s not a journalist at all. But every sentence he writes feels fresh. He refuses clichés, refuses autopilot prose. He once wrote a book called The War Against Cliché, which I haven’t read because he lives it on every page. His sentences are surprising, sharp, sometimes laugh-out-loud funny. No GPT, frankly, could ever be Martin Amis. When I finish reading him, I want to write more energetically and individually.


Audience Engagement, Reddit, and the AMA
BW: Last question—while preparing for this interview, I found an old Reddit AMA you did. You invited anyone to ask you anything. What motivated you to do that, and did it change how you think about audience engagement? Would you do it again?
LG: I’d love to claim it was my idea, but it came from our social team. They’d been putting us out there in different formats—Facebook Live Q&As, Twitter engagement, things like that. They asked if I’d do an AMA, and I said sure.
I wasn’t expecting the hurly-burly of the questions, but honestly, a lot of them were excellent. Reddit had a reputation—at least in my mind—of being slightly disreputable, but many of the questions were thoughtful. I get asked a lot of the same things over the years, but in every Q&A, someone asks something I’ve never been asked before. I love that. It forces me to think fresh rather than repeat myself.
One person even asked whether I’d ever “done the kush,” which was certainly a first—but I answered him!
I’m glad I did it, and yes, I’d do it again. Journalists can easily end up speaking only to the same comfortable audience. But if I’m doing my job right, I want to reach people who haven’t encountered our work before. The Economist looks serious—and it is—but once you pick it up, it’s surprisingly lively. The captions and headlines often have humor in them. We work hard to make it entertaining.
Reaching new audiences is part of the mission. And it’s fun.


BW: Mr. Greene, this was really terrific. Thank you again for speaking with the Blog, I know our readers will really take a lot from this interview.
LG: Thanks, Ben. Best of luck—and I look forward to seeing it. 

Introduction
BW: Mr. Abrams, thank you for speaking with me.
The last time we spoke, we discussed the moral dimensions of U.S. foreign policy and the balance between realism and democratic ideals. Since then, the world has continued to change, especially with respect to great-power competition and democratic backsliding. I’d love to revisit some of those themes in light of current challenges.
Thank you again for joining me on The Pathway Blog.
EA: Happy to do it.

On the Two-State Solution
BW: Over the past few years—and even before that—you’ve emphasized your belief in the improbability of a two-state solution between Israelis and Palestinians, from your writings at the Council on Foreign Relations to various podcasts and interviews.
For readers who may not be familiar with your position, why do you believe a two-state solution is unlikely, and what alternative do you propose?
EA: I believe the nature of Palestinian nationalism is the fundamental problem. It has never fundamentally been about creating a Palestinian state; it has been about destroying the Jewish state.
We can go back a hundred years. Take the Peel Commission report in London in 1937. That inquiry grew out of controversy over what should happen to the Palestine Mandate, which had been given to the British after the First World War. The Peel Commission recommended partition into two states—one Arab, one Jewish. The Jews said yes, and the Arabs said no.
In 1947, the United Nations General Assembly passed Resolution 181, which again proposed partition: a Jewish state and an Arab state. The Jewish state, by the way, was quite small. Again, the Jews said yes, the Arabs said no, and immediately declared war and invaded.
You can trace this through Camp David, where President Bill Clinton tried to get Yasser Arafat to accept an offer from Ehud Barak. Later, Ehud Olmert tried to get Mahmoud Abbas to agree to an incredibly generous offer. The Palestinians did not accept these proposals.
And I think the reason is that the kind of Palestinian state that would result from such negotiations would not satisfy Palestinian nationalism. The only thing that seems likely to do so is the destruction of the state of Israel and a Palestine that encompasses all of what used to be the Palestine Mandate. That is not going to happen.
There is still no real evidence of majority support among Palestinians for a two-state solution that accepts a permanent Jewish state. You can look at public-opinion polls over the decades, including today; majorities consistently reject it. That’s the first fundamental reason I don’t think a two-state solution has happened or will happen.
Second, Israelis have just been through a terrible crisis after October 7, 2023. We see them now working to create buffer zones around Gaza and in the north, near Lebanon, to prevent Hezbollah and forces in Syria from threatening Israeli civilians.
How likely is it that Israelis—including Israelis on the left—are going to accept a Palestinian state that, for geographical reasons, could be an even more dangerous threat? A Palestinian state in the West Bank would be in the hills overlooking Ben-Gurion Airport and the entire coastal plain, where Israel’s major cities are, as well as Jerusalem.
So I think such a state would be too dangerous, and there’s no reason to believe that a new, weak, independent Palestinian state could prevent a Hamas takeover. That would not only threaten Israel; it would threaten Jordan as well.
So what are the alternatives? For the moment, I don’t think there is an alternative to the current situation—and by “for the moment,” I don’t mean just this month. I mean for years: five, ten, even twenty-five years.
In the end, I do think partition is the right idea: a Jewish entity and a Muslim Arab entity. The question is, what is the nature of that Arab, Palestinian entity? Is it a full sovereign state?
If you look at it realistically, it would be a state without a real economy—no serious exports, no port, no airport, and no security force capable of preventing terrorists from taking over. It seems logical to me that even when that entity is created, it would have to be in a federation or confederation with one of two countries: Israel or Jordan.
To me, the logic suggests a confederation with a Muslim Arab, largely Palestinian state—Jordan—rather than with the Jewish state. That’s my long-run vision: perhaps ten or twenty years from now. We don’t know how the world will change, but I think that’s the logical progression.

Anti-Zionism and Anti-Semitism
BW: I was revisiting your 2016 op-ed titled “Anti-Zionism Is the Anti-Semitism of Our Time.” Today, it has become increasingly common among pro-Palestinian advocates to argue that anti-Zionism and anti-Semitism are distinct—that opposing Zionism doesn’t equate to prejudice against Jews, and that claims to the contrary distract from Israel’s alleged wrongdoing.
What would you say to those who make that argument?
EA: I’d say they should open their eyes, because what we’re seeing today really refutes that argument. What we’re seeing is a mixture of anti-Semitism and anti-Zionism.
We are not seeing people simply criticize this or that Israeli tactic or policy. We’re seeing, in various places, Jews attacked in the streets—whether in Brooklyn, or London, or Sydney, Australia. When people attack a synagogue, or an individual who appears to be an Orthodox Jew walking down the street, that’s not anti-Zionism. That’s pure anti-Semitism.
I’d also go back to a standard that Natan Sharansky proposed: if the standards you use to judge Israel are imposed on no other country in the world, that’s a sign of anti-Semitism.
If you march in the street because there are deaths in Gaza, okay. Have you ever marched because China is murdering Uyghur Muslims in Xinjiang? Have you ever marched about genocide in Sudan? If you’ve never applied the same standards elsewhere—if you don’t care about any of that, but you want to accuse one country and only one country in the world, Israel, of “genocide”—then you’re an anti-Semite.
You don’t need a complicated philosophical argument. We can see it with our own eyes.

The Right, Israel, and Tucker Carlson
BW: Mr. Abrams, as you well know, the political right has become increasingly divided over Israel. We have figures like Ben Shapiro and other neoconservatives who are staunchly supportive of Israel, while others—such as Tucker Carlson and the so-called “Groypers”—are firmly opposed to U.S. support for Israel, with some even suggesting that Israel controls Donald Trump and America.
How do you interpret this divide, and where do you see the future of the Republican Party on this issue?
EA: That’s a big and important question.
First, we should say that criticizing Israeli government policy is not anti-Semitism. Many Israelis criticize their own government at any given time, and many American Jews do as well. So criticism of Israel is not automatically anti-Zionism or anti-Semitism.
However, if you look at someone like Tucker Carlson, what he’s doing is not just anti-Zionism; it’s anti-Semitism.
I say that because of the pattern we see. One week he attacks Israel, and the week before or after he brings on a "phony" historian who claims Hitler was not responsible for the Second World War and never meant to kill Jews—that Churchill is the real villain. Now we’re seeing a pattern, and it’s really not fundamentally about Israel; it’s about Jews.
That was months ago. More recently, he had on an avowed anti-Semite, Nick Fuentes. Again, that’s a pattern.
Anti-Semitism existed long before there was a state of Israel, obviously, and it exists today both on the far left and the far right.
One key question is this: when we see a diminution of support for Israel in the United States—among Christians, among Jews, among Republicans and Democrats—is that all anti-Semitism? My answer is no. A lot of it is a reaction to war in general and a misunderstanding of the nature of this particular war. That’s not necessarily anti-Semitism.
But there is real anti-Semitism, on both extremes. And you and I are speaking in mid-November, at a moment when there’s been a very visible debate about this on the Republican side. I think that debate is a good thing, because we’ve seen people indicate what they think and which side they’re on.
We’ve seen people like Senator Ted Cruz issue strong denunciations of anti-Semitism on the right, and others have done the same. I think this battle will be lost by the anti-Semites.
I asked one senator—I won’t name him—who comes from a border state: when you’re denounced by Tucker Carlson, do you get phone calls and mail from home, from your state, from people who’ve been persuaded by him and are denouncing you on those grounds? The answer was no.
So I don’t think this kind of vicious anti-Semitism that Carlson is now purveying on his show is selling very well.
I do worry about the declining levels of support for Israel we’ve seen over the last few years, especially among people under about 30 or 35. But that’s a different problem from classic anti-Semitism. I worry about the anti-Semitism we are seeing, but I believe it will ultimately be defeated in both parties.

Balancing Competition and Coexistence with China
BW: Last time, you said that the defining challenge for my generation would be confronting a militarily powerful but economically interdependent China.
How should the United States balance competition and coexistence with China without repeating Cold War mistakes or abandoning democratic allies in the process?
EA: There’s no magic formula.
In the Cold War, the formula was “containment”: we would try to prevent the Soviet Union from expanding its influence and alliances around the world, in the belief that its internal contradictions would eventually cause it to collapse. It took a long time—from 1917 to 1991—but that’s what happened.
President Reagan was absolutely persuaded this would happen. He probably thought it would take much longer than it did. He left office in January 1989; the Soviet Union collapsed less than three years later. If you’d asked him, “Will this happen in two years?” he would have said no—maybe twenty years. But he believed it was coming.
In the case of China, many fundamentals are the same: maintaining American military strength; maintaining American alliances in Europe, in the Middle East, and particularly in Asia; and maintaining our support for liberty and human rights.
We did support human rights during the Cold War, but there were many occasions when we didn’t. There’s a famous line attributed to Franklin Roosevelt about Anastasio Somoza, the dictator of Nicaragua: “He’s a son of a bitch, but he’s our son of a bitch.” We did too much of that—too much turning a blind eye to repression.
A good example is Iran. I think the people of Iran are very much on our side against the ayatollahs, and we should be saying far more about freedom for the Iranian people.
So with China, I’d say fundamentally the same: not every country that’s worried about China and wants to be friendly with us is a democracy—Vietnam is a good example—but most are: Taiwan, Australia, Japan, South Korea, and others.
In the long run, I think we will have the Chinese people on our side too. Since roughly 1850, Chinese thinkers have been trying to figure out how to modernize. They got rid of the colonial powers. They have obviously figured out the economic part to a significant extent, but they have not figured out the political part. China today remains a vicious dictatorship of the Communist Party, and the contradictions are starting to show.
The population has begun to decline, partly because of the one-child policy they had for decades. They can’t get people to have enough children to reach the replacement rate of 2.1, and they don’t take immigrants. India has already surpassed China in population, and the gap will grow.
We see other strains in their economy. Their model was essentially to produce much, much more than they could consume—keep the Chinese people essentially poor—and let foreigners consume and pay. That model is starting to break down. You can attribute part of that to President Trump, but you see it in Europe as well. The idea that China would be the workshop of the world and nobody else would produce anything—that’s not acceptable to Europeans either, who don’t want their own manufacturing hollowed out.
So I think we’ve seen “peak China” economically. I don’t think we’ve seen “peak China” militarily, because they keep building.
Our job is to maintain our principles—our support for freedom—maintain our military strength, and maintain our alliances.

AI as a “New Cold War”
BW: On this note of Cold War strategy: The Wall Street Journal published an article yesterday describing the AI rivalry between the U.S. and China as a new Cold War for technological supremacy.
You’ve spent your career navigating contests defined by power, belief, and legitimacy. Do you think this AI rivalry will transform how nations exercise power—not just how they compete for it? And if so, are our existing institutions of diplomacy and deterrence equipped for that kind of conflict?
EA: I may be old-fashioned here, but I don’t think AI changes the fundamentals.
Once upon a time, nations competed with armies and navies—that was true for thousands of years. Then air power came along, but it didn’t change the basic nature of war. Then came nuclear weapons. You could argue they’ve prevented a great Third World War, but they certainly have not prevented massive conflicts. We lost roughly 50,000 men in Korea and another 50,000 in Vietnam, and we’ve been involved in a number of other wars—Afghanistan, Iraq, and so on. The Russians, who have nuclear weapons, are currently fighting a ground war in Ukraine.
The weaponry changes. Once it was air power; now it’s drones. AI will change the way wars are fought—for example, by permitting much better targeting—but I don’t think it changes the fundamentals.
In this century, in the great strategic struggle between the U.S. and China, AI is critical as an economic factor, and it will probably be critical on the military side as well. But that doesn’t mean the basic nature of interstate conflict has changed.
Weapons always change. We won World War II largely because of the American industrial base that had been developed in the century leading up to it. Later, when nuclear weapons came along, the industrial base became somewhat less central, because countries with little industrial capacity could still acquire nuclear weapons.
To me, AI is the most recent—and in some ways perhaps the most powerful—new tool. But it’s not a weapon in itself; it changes the effectiveness of weapons that already exist. It will certainly affect how we acquire and use intelligence about our adversaries. But at the most fundamental level, it doesn’t change the underlying dynamics of interstate relations, especially hostile ones.

Skills for Public Service in an Age of Cynicism
BW: I want to turn to advice for students. You closed our last interview by encouraging young people to “get involved.”
What specific skills or habits distinguish those who rise to positions of real influence in government today—especially in an era dominated by social media and growing public cynicism?
EA: Let me mention something at the beginning that people sometimes overlook: luck. It’s a factor in everyone’s life.
You may be ready for a senior government position at precisely the time when the party you’re affiliated with is out of power for four, eight, twelve, even sixteen years. Then you won’t get the position you otherwise might have, and there’s no way to control that—elections determine it.
That said, there are things you can control. One is energy. Some people simply have more energy and are more hardworking. That’s true for students, and it’s true for government employees and officials.
Some people get up earlier and go to sleep later. Some spend more time studying, reading, working, writing. Government jobs are demanding in that sense. When I worked in the White House—eight years under George W. Bush—I got up at 4:30 each day, was in the office by 6:00, and stayed about twelve hours, Monday through Friday. If you can’t or don’t want to do that, many positions just aren’t going to be open to you.
Second, the ability to write and speak clearly and concisely. I have the impression that a smaller percentage of college students today meet that standard than fifty or a hundred years ago.
What do I mean? If you cannot speak for a paragraph—about the war in Gaza, about China, or even about the baseball World Series—without using the word “like” in every sentence, you’re not speaking clearly. And people listening will think: if you can’t speak logically, cogently, effectively, carefully, maybe you don’t think that way either.
I meet lots of people who seem quite smart, in their mid-twenties, who can’t do this. Their sentences are filled with “so I’m like” and “then she’s like” and “I wasn’t really so interested, like, in…” I’m sorry, but you’re not going to get ahead if you can’t stop doing that.
There’s a parallel in reading and writing. People who teach at universities tell me there’s much less reading, and that students react negatively when they’re assigned a lot of it. If you don’t read a lot, it’s unlikely you’ll write well. And writing well is critical in most important government jobs.
Take someone working on the National Security Council staff. The president is going to speak with the president of Egypt in ninety minutes. You have thirty minutes to write a memo that says: here are the major issues, here’s what he might raise, and here’s what you might want to raise. That assumes you have the knowledge, but you also need to do something with it.
You have to be able to put that knowledge into a clear, concise memo—on a screen and then on paper—for the president. You must be able to write it quickly and coherently.
There’s a related concept called the “elevator briefing.” If you work for a senator or a cabinet member, they may say, “Come with me. I’ve got a CNN interview in five minutes. Brief me in the elevator.” You have to be able to do that—think clearly and speak clearly, on the spot.
So I’d say: energy; and then reading, writing, and speaking.
One of the best ways to learn those skills is to write. When students at places like Georgetown’s School of Foreign Service or Harvard’s Kennedy School ask me how to start a career, one of the things I tell them is: start writing.
We live in an environment where it’s relatively easy to get published. There are so many Substacks and websites—some run by students—that if you write something good, it can find an audience. It’s an excellent way to train yourself to think clearly and write clearly.
And later, when you want a job, the person hiring you is likely to ask, “Who is she? Who is he? What have they done?” If the answer is, “Here are a bunch of articles and analyses this person has written,” you have a much better chance of getting that job.

Careers, Parties, and the Role of Luck
BW: That’s all incredible advice. I was especially struck by what you said about luck, because it’s something people don't emphasize enough when talking about careers in politics.
For those who spend years investing in a particular party or policy world and then find that their party simply isn’t the one in power, what do they do? What paths do you see people in that position pursue?
EA: You have to make a decision at a reasonably young age—during or just after college—about whether you want foreign affairs to be your full-time career.
When I taught at Georgetown’s School of Foreign Service, the advice I gave was this: if you want to do foreign affairs full-time and don’t want your career to depend on luck and party control, then join the civil service in some part of the government—be a civilian at the Defense Department, join the CIA, join the Foreign Service, something like that. Then you know you’ll be working on foreign policy your whole career.
The downside is that you’re joining a big bureaucracy, and you may not like that.
If you don’t want to do that, then you need to figure out how you’re going to make a living between political appointments. If you’re aligned with one party, you go in when they go in—but they’ll be out about half the time. What do you do then?
I often urge people coming out of college: if you can get a job as an intern or research assistant in Congress, especially on foreign-policy issues, do that for a couple of years. But then get a career going in something like law or finance—traditionally those have been the main routes.
Today, that might mean going to business school or law school, and then working at a place like J.P. Morgan, Goldman Sachs, McKinsey, or at a law firm. That way, you can serve in government when your party is in power, and when you come out, you have a profession to return to.

Working at the State Department vs. the NSC
BW: As we wrap up, I’d like to ask more about your time at the State Department, since that’s where I'm hoping to start my own career at the moment.
What were your biggest takeaways from your time there, and how did that experience compare to other positions you’ve held in government?
EA: I loved working at the State Department. I was there for about ten years.
The downside is that it’s a big bureaucracy. You have lots of meetings that take up too much time, and you have to clear things with what can seem like an endless number of offices. There are real frustrations that come from working in a building with several thousand people.
But I found many talented and dedicated people there—in the Foreign Service, in the civil service, and among political appointees. Over time, as people rotate through different posts, you see them overseas, you see them in Washington; it’s a rich professional community.
I also worked on Capitol Hill, which is very different, and at the National Security Council. The key difference between State and the NSC is that in most administrations—perhaps less so in the Trump years—you’re simply much closer to the president at the NSC.
You’re not just writing memos or making points at meetings. You’re right there where the decisions are made. You’re one or two steps away from the president. When I was doing this, between me and the president was the national security adviser. If the president was talking about the Middle East, if he had a guest from the Middle East, if he was traveling to the Middle East, I was there.
That’s immensely exciting, and you have a real chance to influence the president and the policies he carries out in a very direct way. At the State Department, your influence is more indirect, though still important. And the pace at the White House is simply tougher: the hours are longer, and the strain is greater.
When there’s a national or foreign-policy crisis, the shock is felt immediately in the White House. It’s felt at the State Department too, but often in a less immediate way.

Recommended Reading
BW: Finally, when we last spoke, you recommended Peter Rodman’s Presidential Command. As is customary with this blog, I’d like to end by asking if there are any new books, essays, or thinkers you’d suggest to young readers who want to understand the moral and strategic dimensions of American leadership.
EA: It’s always worth reading Present at the Creation, Dean Acheson’s memoir of his time as Secretary of State in the Truman administration. It’s beautifully written, and it’s a fascinating account of the diplomacy at the end of World War II and the start of the Cold War—the creation of the world order we’ve essentially lived in since then.
Why don’t I stick with that one for the moment.
BW: Wonderful. Mr. Abrams, thank you again for taking the time to speak with me. Your advice is truly invaluable, especially for someone like me who’s hoping to work at the State Department—hopefully even as soon as this coming summer, when I’m applying for State Department internships. I look forward to reaching back out and letting you know how it goes.
EA: Good. It was very good to speak with you again.
BW: Great to speak with you as well. Have a great day.
EA: You too.

Writing for a General Audience
BW: You do such a great job making complicated topics—like interest rates or balance sheets—feel approachable. When you're writing, who are you imagining as your reader? And how do you keep the coverage grounded without oversimplifying?
JS: I typically imagine my sisters, who are both nurses in Pittsburgh, as my readers. I think it’s useful to picture someone who’s curious and basically well informed, but not necessarily familiar with the specific topic you’re writing about.
I actually don’t love the advice to “write at a middle school level” or for a 12-year-old—I don’t think that’s helpful for complicated subjects. What is useful is keeping yourself honest: ditch jargon, avoid gratuitously fancy words, and don’t signal that you’re writing only for insiders. That’s pretty much how I approach it.
BW: Since you're dealing with such complex topics—ones that can also be incredibly powerful in their implications—how do you keep that in mind as you’re writing?
JS: I think it’s really important to be careful and make sure you’re not misleading anyone. You want to portray your subject as accurately and fairly as possible.
But it’s also important not to become too enamored with the topic or too awed by what’s happening. At the end of the day, what we’re covering is a group of people making decisions. Important decisions, yes—but they’re still just people, not wizards or gods. Keeping that in mind helps keep the work grounded.

Covering the Fed
BW: When you were covering the Fed, how did you decide who you were going to reach out to and what you were going to ask?
JS: When I was on the Fed beat, I was in regular contact with almost every member of the Federal Open Market Committee—the twelve regional bank presidents and the seven governors in Washington. I went to a lot of conferences. I was always around Fed meetings and international economic gatherings.
The more complicated decision was how much time to invest in the broader Fed ecosystem—how often to visit regional banks, how deeply to engage with the people working inside them. Those are really valuable sources, but it’s a lot of work to keep in touch with that many institutions, and it’s a constant balancing act. That part came down mostly to trial and error.

Europe, Regulation, and Spillover Effects
BW: As you’ve spent more time in Europe, have you noticed any major differences in how policymakers talk about things like fiscal restraint, industrial policy, or the green transition—especially compared to Washington? And do those differences matter in a globally connected economy?
JS: Yes, the differences absolutely matter in an interconnected world.
One of the clearest areas is the green transition. Europe has generally been more proactive in trying to push companies along—passing regulations and policies meant to really accelerate the shift. But now they’re starting to walk some of that back and are under a lot of scrutiny and pressure, because in a globalized market those regulations trigger backlash from other economies, including the U.S.
The same is true for digital regulation. Europe has been much more forthright in trying to ensure platforms like Twitter, YouTube, and TikTok police content that’s potentially harmful. The U.S. is more cautious about that approach, especially when it comes to regulating speech on the internet. But because the market for digital platforms is global, Europe’s rules end up having broader effects, and that turns into a geopolitical conversation.
BW: So Europe’s push for stricter content moderation spills over into U.S. tech policy?
JS: Absolutely. Take the Digital Services Act. It requires companies like Meta to make sure their content-moderation rules comply with local laws—so if they’re operating in Germany, they have to enforce German law. That’s much stricter than what we see in the U.S.
Because Meta and others have to build the infrastructure to comply in Europe, they end up developing the capability to enforce those rules more generally. That’s led to pushback not only from companies like Meta but also from the U.S. government. The Trump administration has been especially vocal in opposing the DSA and the broader Digital Markets Act. We’ve even seen people like J.D. Vance talk about these issues directly at the Munich Security Conference. So this has clearly spilled over into geopolitics in a way that feels new.
BW: And that sort of direct criticism—especially at events like the Munich Security Conference—is that new? Or is it just more visible now because of social media?
JS: We’ve always seen differences between the U.S. and Europe on free speech, the green transition, and regulation more broadly. That part isn’t new.
What is new is how forthright the Trump administration has been in criticizing Europe—and how it has folded those disagreements into the broader trade disputes with many countries. So the “volume level” is new. It’s louder, more public, more performative. And that’s made it a really interesting time to report on U.S.–EU relations.

Learning Brussels
BW: Shifting gears—when you first got to Brussels, was it a pretty unsettling environment, especially after covering the Fed for so long?
JS: Oh, totally. I was a complete newbie. I got here at the end of February and I’ve been on a steep learning curve ever since.
I’m covering the European Commission, the European Parliament, the European Council—and I’m also pitching in on national-security coverage. NATO is right down the street, so we’ve got a constant stream of people coming through to talk defense, trade, and security.
It’s been an exciting time to arrive in Brussels. With the new Trump administration coming in, the story has been very active. In a way, it’s been a good time to learn the beat because there’s so much going on.

Hard Stories and Proud Moments
BW: What’s been one of the most challenging stories you’ve written—either because of the complexity or the politics? And is there one you’re especially proud of?
JS: The hardest stories were probably about the repo market. There were a few episodes of turmoil while I was covering the Fed. The repo market sounds simple, but it’s not, and breaking it down in a way readers could understand without oversimplifying was tough.
Another very challenging story was a piece I did on BlackRock’s conversations with the Fed during the 2020 crisis response. That was hard both because the information wasn’t public and because I wanted to be careful not to get spun. I had to decide how much to give the Fed and BlackRock the benefit of the doubt versus how much to frame it as something people should be concerned about. I’m happy with where I landed, but it was difficult.
As for stories I’m proud of: we did one on a young man named Monroe Campbell, who was the first Black research assistant at the San Francisco Fed. He pushed for a more diverse cohort of hires, and the story looked at how economics as a field can lock out people without a certain pedigree—which often correlates with privilege. It was about Monroe, but more broadly about access to opportunity in the field. I heard from a lot of people that it sparked meaningful conversations, and I was really proud of that.
BW: Going back to that BlackRock article—was that a particularly long piece to write?
JS: That one probably took about two months from start to finish. It wasn’t the only thing I was working on—this was 2020, when we were all writing daily—but it required FOIA requests, follow-ups, and a lot of reporting. It wasn’t a quick turnaround, but it was really interesting.

Perfectionism and Process
BW: Is there a standard amount of time you aim to spend on an article? And if so, how do you stay on track?
JS: It depends.
For breaking news, you know you need to get it done as quickly as possible. I actually find that easier. I started at Bloomberg, so I’m what the industry calls a wire reporter—I’m very used to writing fast and on deadline.
The harder stories are the longer-term ones, the ones that might take weeks or a month. There’s no hard deadline, so deciding when they’re “done” becomes more of an artistic judgment. I’m a perfectionist—I either want to tinker forever or finish right away. That’s why everyone needs an editor. They’re the ones who say, “Okay, you need to file this now.”
BW: I don’t write nearly as often as you do, but I definitely relate to the perfectionism. Do you have any advice on how to manage that?
JS: I’ve been doing this for thirteen years and I haven’t totally figured it out. But I do think it helps to recognize early when something is going to be a big project.
If it’s going to take two months, then commit to that: file the records requests, go after the hard-to-get interviews, really report the heck out of it. Sometimes I set artificial deadlines and then forget to step back and ask whether I should make the piece more ambitious.
With time, you learn that sometimes it’s better to decide up front that a story is going to be a bigger undertaking, and then fully embrace that.

Getting into Journalism
BW: How did you first get involved in journalism? Was there a defining moment, or did it evolve over time?
JS: Honestly, I decided I wanted to be a journalist when I was eight years old. My second-grade class made a newspaper, and I thought it was the coolest thing ever. I said I wanted to be a journalist and I stuck with it.
I went to UNC, then straight to journalism school. From there, I went to Bloomberg, and I’ve basically been a journalist ever since.

Advice for Aspiring Journalists and Policy People
BW: A lot of our readers are students thinking about how they want to engage with public policy or journalism. Are there any skills or traits you think are especially important for people going into these fields?
JS: I think the most important trait in journalism is curiosity. If you’re not genuinely interested in the thing you’re covering—or in the world in general—it’s probably not the right field for you.
Good gossips often make good journalists, honestly. That instinct of “I have to know what’s going on” makes for a strong reporter.
The other key trait is resilience. Journalism is not always a pretty field. There’s constant upheaval. Your career will go through phases. You won’t always do the kind of journalism you want to do—you might end up writing deadline headlines, or doing TikTok videos, or podcasting. So flexibility matters.
If you stay focused on getting good information to readers, rather than locking yourself into a specific format, you’ll usually end up both happier and more successful.

Recommended Reading
BW: Last question. If you could recommend one piece of literature—a book, essay, article—to someone who wants to better understand either how the economy works or what’s going on in the EU beyond the headlines, what would it be?
JS: This probably won’t be the world’s most popular recommendation, but if you’re really into macroeconomics, Alan Blinder—who was vice chair of the Fed—wrote a book called A Monetary and Fiscal History of the United States, 1961–2021. It’s incredibly useful as an overview.
You have to approach it as what it is—an insider’s account—but I found it really valuable. He’s also relatively funny and takes a critical eye to his own role in some of the events he describes. If you want to understand macroeconomics and the Fed, I’d start there.
BW: Jeanna, thank you so much for taking the time. I really appreciate it—and I know our readers will too.
JS: Thanks, Ben!

Michael Beckley is an Associate Professor of Political Science at Tufts University and a Nonresident Senior Fellow at the American Enterprise Institute. A leading scholar of U.S.–China strategic competition, he is the author of Unrivaled: Why America Will Remain the World’s Sole Superpower and co-author, with Hal Brands, of Danger Zone: The Coming Conflict with China. In this conversation, Beckley reflects on the family stories and Cold War memories that drew him to geopolitics, why he thinks the United States retains huge long-term advantages over China, and why that very imbalance makes the coming decade especially dangerous. He talks through his concerns about China’s debt, militarization, and potential for aggression, his skepticism toward parts of academia, and the growing demand for geopolitical analysis across government, think tanks, and the private sector. For students thinking about foreign policy careers, he offers blunt advice on expertise, risk-taking, and avoiding the temptation to “build a brand” before you’ve done the hard work. 
This transcript has been edited for clarity and length.​

Early Influences and the Pull of Geopolitics
BW: Professor Beckley, thank you for speaking with me.
To begin, I’d love to hear about the path that led you to this field. What sparked your interest in international relations and U.S.–China competition? Was there a defining moment, or was it a long-standing passion?
MB: I think it’s always been a passion of mine. I’d point to two big influences.
One is my family—I’m half Japanese. On the Japanese side, my grandmother was interned during World War II, but her three brothers were fighting for the U.S. military. One was killed, one was wounded, and one of her cousins served in a special operations unit in the Asian theater. He spied on Japanese units and called in strikes—he was later inducted into the Army Rangers Hall of Fame.
Meanwhile, another cousin protested the internment and took his case all the way to the Supreme Court. He lost in a unanimous 9–0 decision and was sent to jail. So knowing that family history gave me a sense that geopolitics can have massive impacts on people’s lives.
The second influence was just growing up in the 1990s, right after the Cold War. One of my earliest memories is of the Gulf War. I remember expecting it to be like World War II, and instead seeing the U.S. military just demolish Iraqi forces. That showed me the immense power of the United States, and I’ve always been fascinated by that.
And then, of course, there were all the movies--Top Gun, The Hunt for Red October. I thought that stuff was so cool. So I was always really interested.

Academia, Policy, and the Frustrations of the Ivory Tower
BW: You’ve worked in both academic and policy circles. How do those worlds differ, and how has that shaped your approach to research and influence?
MB: I was trained as an academic, which is good in the sense that it teaches you rigor and research design. But I actually think a lot of what academia produces is pretty irrelevant and useless.
The direction academia has been going for a long time is, in my view, pretty poor: increasing specialization, an overemphasis on methods for their own sake, and a lot of what I’d call faux social justice work rather than hard-hitting analysis. I’ve become increasingly disgusted with academia in general.
I’ve always been much more interested in policy, because I feel like: what’s the point unless you’re engaged in major debates that actually have an impact? Especially coming from the United States, I think the U.S. has a special obligation to use its power responsibly. If you’re writing about international affairs, you have an obligation to engage in those national debates.
For me, I always wanted to do policy, but there isn’t much “middle management” in the policy world. You’re either a lowly research assistant or a senior scholar. I had to get a PhD and go through the academy to earn credentials and show my work before I could really have a consistent voice in national debates.
So it’s always been about wanting to do policy, but having to get the academic training and earn my stripes along the way. I’m glad I did it, but it wasn’t particularly fun.

U.S. Power, China, and the “Danger Zone”
BW: On that note, in Unrivaled you argue that fears of U.S. decline are exaggerated, and that fears of China’s inevitable rise are overblown. That message feels especially urgent today, with rising tensions over Taiwan and the South China Sea.
Do you still believe the U.S. holds a decisive long-term advantage—and what metrics matter most?
MB: After Unrivaled, which focused on big-picture indicators of national power, I still think the U.S. has tremendous latent advantages: its wealth, its technology, its military potential, its alliances, the dollar’s global role, and energy production. The U.S. is a hub for many countries—militarily, economically, diplomatically—and that gives it enormous power.
What China is really good at is churning stuff out. They’re massively ramping up their military. So I worry a lot about the local balance of power, especially in the Taiwan Strait and across maritime East Asia.
I also worry that the United States historically doesn’t really mobilize until it gets punched in the face. I see the U.S. being fairly lackadaisical about countering China.
In 2019, I wrote a Foreign Affairs article called “The U.S. Should Fear a Faltering China,” where I looked at cases of rising great powers whose ascent stalled. The pattern is that they tend to militarize and become more aggressive in the short term. It seems like China is doing the same thing.
That led to my second book with Hal Brands, Danger Zone. The argument is that in the long run, the U.S. has significant advantages over China. But in the short term, because China is militarizing and mobilizing so quickly, there’s this extremely dangerous window where Beijing might “roll the iron dice”—gamble on an assault on Taiwan, the Philippines, Japan, or other targets in East Asia.
There’s a lot the United States needs to do to insulate itself and deter that kind of move from happening in the first place. So I’ve become less confident about the U.S. ability to deter China in the near term, even though I remain relatively confident about the long-term balance of power. But that can all be thrown off if the U.S. gets thrashed in a war over Taiwan—that would change the trajectory dramatically.
That’s why so much of my work in the last five or six years has been trying to sound the alarm about what China is doing.

The Costs of a Taiwan War
BW: Do you think a conflict over Taiwan would ultimately be better or worse for American global positioning?
MB: I think it would be catastrophic for everyone involved. I don’t see any real winners.
A lot would depend on how the war played out, but even if the U.S. “wins”—meaning China fails to take Taiwan—if you look at the history of great power wars, they tend to be much messier and longer than people expect going in.
And given that both the U.S. and China have nuclear weapons, it’s just not something I even want to contemplate. I think it would be catastrophic for China, but that doesn’t mean it would be good for the United States.

Debt, Power, and U.S. Vulnerabilities
BW: What do you make of the U.S. debt-to-GDP ratio in terms of American global positioning? It’s top of mind right now with the “One Big, Beautiful Bill” passing the House, which critics say could add trillions to the national debt. Is that a telling indicator?
MB: First, I’d use different statistics. The Bank for International Settlements measures total credit to the non-financial sector—that includes government, household, and business debt. For China, that figure is over 300 percent of GDP, and that’s probably conservative because local governments hide a lot of debt.
You can easily find reporting on this. Even the People’s Bank of China acknowledges how serious the problem is. China’s debt situation is extremely bad. But that doesn’t mean America’s fiscal position is good.
I’m very concerned about U.S. debt, especially with possible extensions of massive tax cuts. With interest costs rivaling the defense budget, plus the wave of baby boomer retirements, we’re putting a huge burden on future generations. Just because others are worse off doesn’t mean we’re in good shape.

Skills and Career Paths for a New Generation
BW: Shifting gears, many of our readers are students trying to find their path in international policy. What skills or mindsets do you think are most valuable for contributing meaningfully to foreign policy analysis or academia?
MB: There are different skill sets that are useful.
One path is the one I took: academic, original research. That’s valuable because it forces you to think systematically—like a scientist—about how to build a valid body of evidence and test your hypotheses. Even if you don’t use that language when you’re writing essays, going on TV, or briefing policymakers, that style of thinking helps you avoid cherry-picking evidence and just spouting hot takes.
Another great training ground is journalism. I have a lot of respect for journalists who know what it takes to really get to the bottom of a story—talking to everyone involved, reading everything, and then coming to solid conclusions.
There are also increasing opportunities in the private sector for your generation. When I was growing up in the 1990s, people thought we were at the “end of history,” and that major geopolitical conflicts were unlikely. There wasn’t as much demand in the private sector for geopolitical expertise. Now, almost every bank I know has some kind of geopolitical or political risk analysis wing, and there are major firms that specialize in that.
That kind of work can be very rigorous, because when there’s money on the line, people tend to take analysis seriously.
Then you have the government analyst route, and the area specialist path—immersing yourself in a particular country or region, learning the language, living there, going into the archives like a historian.
To me, it’s about the depth of knowledge you can acquire when you’re young so that later you have real expertise to draw on. Starting narrow and then building outward is a good way to go.

How to Contribute in a Time of Great Power Competition
BW: For students who are trying to build that foundation—if someone in college asked, “How can I contribute meaningfully to U.S. foreign policy in a time of great power competition?” what would you say?
MB: There are so many ways, and I actually think long-term planning is a bit overrated.
My advice would be: do next year what you genuinely want to do next year, and really throw yourself into it. Then see where things shake out.
In our conversation, I’ve given you a neat summary of my career path, but it only makes sense in retrospect. At the time, it felt incredibly chaotic and uncertain and all over the place.
You’re learning so much, you never know who you’ll meet or what opportunities will open up. So go with your gut and what seems like the best option right in front of you.
Maybe that’s a really interesting study abroad program, or an independent research project you can take on. Usually, the opportunities that are tough and require you to move or stretch yourself—those are the ones to take as early as possible, when your opportunity costs are lower.
As you get closer to your thirties, life gets real very quickly, and it becomes much harder to just pack a bag and go. So I’d say: take the plunge early, whether that means moving to a foreign country, taking on a massive research project, or something similarly demanding.
What I often see instead is young people setting up social media accounts and Substacks as if they’re already big-name public intellectuals. They spend so much time building a “brand” instead of really honing expertise. They might sprint ahead of their peers for a bit, but they’ll fall behind those who have accumulated real expertise, research skills, and experience.
So my advice is: take your medicine early.

Reading the World
BW: Thank you so much for those insights. One last question—you’re clearly well read. If there were one book, essay, or other piece of literature you’d recommend to someone interested in your career path or foreign policy more generally, what would it be?
MB: It sounds cliché, but I think you should definitely read War and Peace. It’s such an amazing, granular yet sweeping epic. It tells you a lot about the lived experience not just of war, but of mass social movements and how people get swept up in them.
I’m also a huge fan of Stephen Kotkin. His claim to fame is his three-volume biography of Stalin, but his many other books and talks—he’s a Russia/Soviet specialist—give him a very clear-eyed view not just of Russia today, but also of the Chinese Communist Party and geopolitics more broadly. You don’t even have to read all his books; just listening to his podcasts is incredibly valuable.
And if you want to do U.S.–China specifically, you’ve got to read John Mearsheimer’s The Tragedy of Great Power Politics, even if you don’t agree with everything. It’s important for framing how you think about what to look for in the behavior of big states. Those would be my main recommendations.

BW: Dr. Beckley, thank you again for sharing your insights today. Your work challenges some of the most dominant assumptions about global power, and I really believe our audience—especially students thinking about their role in public service or international affairs—will benefit from hearing a more grounded, long-term view.
MB: Thanks so much for having me, and best wishes with all your studies. I look forward to seeing how your career progresses.

Getting Started in Foreign Policy
BW: Mr. Abrams, thank you so much for joining me. The Pathway Blog is meant to help students understand careers in foreign affairs, law, and public service by learning from people who’ve done the work. You’ve done that across multiple presidencies and regions—from Latin America during the Cold War to the Middle East in the 21st century. To start, what first drew you into public service? Was foreign policy always the goal, or did your interests evolve?
EA: For me it was always foreign policy. Going back to college, that’s what interested me most, and I was pretty sure I wanted to do something related to Washington and international affairs.
I was lucky to meet Senator Henry “Scoop” Jackson and work on his presidential campaign. After law school, I tried practicing law and found it boring. That was the moment I decided, “Okay, I need to get back to what I actually care about.” I got in touch with Senator Jackson, went down to Washington, met with him again, and joined his staff. That’s how it started.

Serving Under Different Presidents
BW: You’ve served across very different administrations. That kind of longevity requires both flexibility and conviction. How do you maintain strategic focus while navigating the ideological shifts from Reagan to Bush to Trump?
EA: The key is understanding that shifts are inevitable. Each president is different, and obviously there will be big changes when power moves between Republicans and Democrats. That’s fine—as long as you know what you believe.
You also have to remember that you’re not the president, and you’re not the secretary of state. You’re advising. You’re going to lose some battles—times when you’re convinced “A” is the right course but your principal picks “B.” That’s part of the job.
Government is a gigantic bureaucracy with lots of compromise. You accept that as the price of having any influence at all. The line I’ve tried to keep is: if a policy decision is fundamentally unconscionable and directly related to what I’m working on, that’s when you have to be prepared to leave. If it’s outside your lane—say you’re working on Iran and Venezuela and you disagree with immigration policy—that’s harder to justify as a reason to resign.

Morality, Realism, and Human Rights
BW: Diplomacy is often portrayed as a game of grand strategy, but it also carries serious moral weight. How do you personally weigh moral imperatives against strategic necessities, especially in regions like the Middle East?
EA: Every official has to decide how much weight to give human rights and democracy promotion compared to other interests—security, economics, diplomacy. A government is not an NGO; trade-offs are inevitable.
Let me give you an example. At the end of Trump’s first term, I was working on Iran. We had the “maximum pressure” campaign. The goal—at least as Trump saw it—was not regime change, but a deal that ended their nuclear program.
I remember thinking: if he wins reelection and we get to a point where sanctions are lifted in exchange for a nuclear deal, that could mean a lot more money for the regime and a kind of normalization with the Islamic Republic. I would have seen that as a serious abandonment of the Iranian people, and I don’t think I could have stayed.
More broadly, you can adopt a very “realpolitik” approach where human rights and democracy are almost irrelevant to your definition of the national interest. That’s essentially Donald Trump’s view—he made it quite clear, for example, in his Riyadh speech. I think that’s a mistake. Americans do care about values. I don’t believe they want a foreign policy that’s indifferent to the oppression of women, the execution of gay people, or stolen elections.
And beyond morality, our association with liberty is itself a strategic asset. Look at countries facing China or Russia—the fact that the United States stands for freedom helps hold alliances together.

Arguing with Kissinger (and Others)
BW: You’ve been compared to Henry Kissinger in the sense that both of you operated at the intersection of realism and moral complexity—and both faced criticism. How do you respond to those critiques? Do they play any role in your decision-making?
EA: I hope the critiques themselves don’t drive decision-making. What should matter is your own judgment about the balance of American interests.
Kissinger and I have disagreed for decades, going back to the Reagan years. We argued a lot about Latin America. His view was that figures like Chile’s military ruler, Augusto Pinochet, were valuable Cold War allies—anti-communist—and that pushing too hard for democracy risked producing something worse, as he believed had happened in Iran under the Shah or Nicaragua under Somoza. Jeanne Kirkpatrick had a version of that argument too.
My view was more conditional. If pressing for human rights and democracy is likely to produce a more repressive, anti-American regime, then don’t do it. But in Chile’s case, I didn’t think that was true. Chile had a long democratic tradition. We knew the democratic opposition leaders; they came to Washington, and I took them to see Secretary Shultz. We had a very good sense of what a post-Pinochet government would look like. So we pushed for elections.
To me, these are prudential judgments. Where I think Kissinger, Nixon, and Trump are wrong is in discounting the value of America’s reputation as a champion of liberty. That’s not just moral vanity—it’s a real source of strength.

The 21st-Century Challenge: China
BW: Looking generationally, what’s one foreign policy challenge you believe my generation will have to approach differently than previous ones?
EA: The big one is China. During the Cold War, we faced a military adversary, the Soviet Union, whose economy was weak and largely disconnected from ours. We traded almost nothing with them.
Now, in the 21st century, we face a major military and intelligence challenge from China and a level of economic interdependence that would have been hard to imagine in the 20th century. We need their supply chains and they need our markets.
That combination—deep economic ties plus strategic rivalry—is something we’re still learning how to handle. And it’s not going away. If you and your fellow students are in government in 2050, you’ll still be dealing with it.

Why Students Should Still Choose Public Service
BW: Many young people today are passionate about global affairs but skeptical of institutions or disillusioned by politics. What would you say to them?
EA: Get involved. It’s not going to get better if principled people opt out.
There are always plenty of people without strong principles who go into government for power or as a springboard to money later on. The only way to counter that is to have better people in the system—both the elected officials and the thousands of appointees every president brings in.
I was fortunate to work with a lot of talented, principled civil servants and young political appointees who really did see government as a period of service before moving on. If people like your peers walk away, nothing will improve about the nature and quality of our government.

Lessons About Luck and Public Life
BW: Is there anything you know now—about leadership, decision-making, or public service—that you wish you’d understood at the start of your career?
EA: Two things.
First, luck is critical. You don’t control who wins elections. Your team may win or lose, and that can determine your entire trajectory. If you don’t get that first or second job, you may never get the third or fourth. You should work hard, write, and prepare—but luck plays an enormous role.
Second, American politics today is in a pretty ugly cycle. The parties attack each other personally in ways they didn’t, say, 25 years ago. People entering public life should expect unfair attacks at some point. That comes with the territory in a way it doesn’t if you stay entirely in the private sector.

Reading Recommendations
BW: You’re clearly well read. If you had to recommend one book or essay to someone who wants to follow a similar path or get involved in government, what would it be?
EA: There isn’t one definitive book, especially since I’ve never worked at the state level. But for understanding the presidency and national security, Peter Rodman’s Presidential Command is excellent—it shows what presidents actually do and how they do it.
I’d also recommend Dean Acheson’s memoir, Present at the Creation, for a sense of what it’s like to help build U.S. foreign policy from inside government in its early postwar years.
BW: Mr. Abrams, thank you again for your time and candor. I know many of our readers hope to enter foreign policy, law, or diplomacy, and they’ll take a lot away from this conversation.
EA: I hope it was useful. Thank you—and good luck.

Polarization at Home
BW: You’ve talked before about the “dying art of disagreement.” One stat I dug up for my capstone: today, fewer than a third of marriages are between people of opposing political parties, and only about 6% are between Democrats and Republicans—a big drop since the 1970s. What civic consequences do you see coming from this kind of political sorting?
BS: The short answer is mutual incomprehension.
In 2016, many Democrats couldn’t understand how anyone could vote for Trump and concluded that those who did must be ignorant or morally corrupt—hence Hillary Clinton’s “basket of deplorables” line. On the other side, many MAGA Republicans see Democrats as elitist, unpatriotic, or anti-American.
All of that is shaped by increasing political homogeneity in our communities and families. When people mostly live, marry, and socialize with those who agree with them, it becomes easier to see the other half of the country as alien—or even contemptible. That’s dangerous for democracy, and it’s bad politics. I think Democrats lost in 2024 partly because they didn’t grasp the priorities of voters who don’t live inside their cultural or media bubble.

Families, Echo Chambers, and Learning to Argue
BW: Given that rise in ideological echo chambers, how does polarization affect public discourse at a human level?
BS: One of the most important places we learn how to be citizens is at home.
In politically diverse families, kids watch disagreements play out around the dinner table. They learn that people they love can hold opposing views and still respect one another. That’s an education in both argument and empathy.
In homogenous households, kids mainly learn certitude. They grow up without hearing smart, good-faith versions of the other side. I grew up with parents who didn’t always agree politically. My father was more conservative than my mother, and they debated around the table. That experience helped me later when I became a conservative columnist at a very liberal paper. I’d already learned how to argue for my views before an audience that didn’t share them.

Why Social Media Is “Terrible” for Disagreement
BW: You’re not very active on social media, but people often blame it for polarization. Is social media fundamentally bad for disagreement?
BS: Yes. It’s terrible for disagreement.
It’s impersonal. On Twitter, I could insult you—call you a moron—not that I would! But it’s much easier to do that online than face-to-face. And if you reply, I can just block you. Social media lets you speak without compelling you to listen.
It doesn’t foster humane, thoughtful exchanges. It encourages cruelty because the interaction is disembodied. You’re not engaging with a whole person, just their opinions floating in the ether. That’s a very unhealthy way to practice politics.
BW: So is social media the main driver of polarization?
BS: It’s a major contributor, but not the only one.
We’re also polarized because of how districts are gerrymandered, how cable news separates audiences into tribes—Fox versus MSNBC—and more. But social media introduced a new kind of political interaction that’s omnipresent and difficult to adapt to.
Every new communication technology has unforeseen consequences—radio in the 1930s is a classic example. We’re still grappling with the consequences of this one.

Performative Politics and the Breakdown of Governing
BW: Politics today feels performative—driven by outrage rather than policy. How does that affect lawmaking and governance?
BS: Look at Donald Trump. He figured out how to use social media to dominate his party.
If a member of Congress crosses him, a single post can threaten their career. That kind of direct, unmediated power would have been unthinkable in the Reagan era.
What’s changed is that there’s no longer an intermediary between politicians and the public. In the past, journalists and editors played a filtering role—contextualizing and, frankly, sometimes sanitizing what leaders said. Now, leaders speak directly to millions in real time. In some ways, it’s like Franklin Roosevelt using radio—except the tone can resemble darker examples, like how demagogues also used radio.
With no filter, public opinion is constantly being whipped around, and Congress struggles to perform its traditional role as a deliberative body.

What Journalism Can Do
BW: I recently spoke with Jane Kamensky, who made a similar point about the loss of filters and the way people now choose media that simply reinforces their beliefs. Given your experience in print and digital media, are there reforms journalism itself could pursue to help?
BS: Yes, there are things we can do.
One example is the running debate I have with Gail Collins at The New York Times. Our exchanges force readers to engage with two distinct viewpoints in one place. I’d love to see more of that—structured, good-faith debates, rather than siloed opinion spaces.
Television could do something similar: instead of assembling panels where everyone agrees, bring on people who genuinely disagree and let them argue substantively, not just shout.

Can Institutional Reforms Help?
BW: Some scholars argue polarization alone doesn’t kill democracy, but when it’s combined with declining trust in institutions, it can lead to democratic erosion. Are there institutional reforms you think might help?
BS: I’m cautious about institutional tinkering. Reforms often fix one problem and create another.
Take ranked-choice voting: it sounds attractive in theory, but it can produce bland, lowest-common-denominator candidates. That doesn’t excite anyone.
What I’m more drawn to are social reforms that rebuild basic human contact. I sometimes joke about a “Congressional date night”: every week, randomly pair a Democrat and a Republican, and have them go to dinner and talk about life—not politics. Just building human connection.
We may not need to fix the hardware of democracy first. We probably need to start with the software—our habits, relationships, and norms.

Hope, History, and College Advice
BW: Big-picture question: do you think we can reverse polarization, or are we stuck in a self-perpetuating cycle?
BS: I don’t think we’re doomed. We’ve been through very polarized periods before—the 1960s and ’70s, with Vietnam, civil rights, and Watergate. Those were wrenching times.
But we came through them. Abraham Lincoln talked about the “better angels of our nature,” and I still believe those exist. The fact that people like you are asking these questions is encouraging. Democracies have an unusual capacity for self-criticism and self-correction. Autocracies don’t.
BW: On a more personal note, I’m literally driving back from a college visit with my dad as we talk. Any advice for college?
BS: My father always told me: “Get full value.”
Take the hard classes. Don’t be embarrassed to be the last person in the library. My son is at Colorado College, doing exactly that—he’s not taking the easy route. I worked my tail off at the University of Chicago, and that made hard work feel easier later in life.
People talk about “work–life balance,” but I prefer to think in terms of choices. Make good choices early, especially about how seriously you take your education, and you’re unlikely to regret working harder than everyone else.
BW: Thank you again for your time. This has been incredibly helpful—for my capstone and for thinking about college.
BS: My pleasure. Good luck with both.

What the Founders Can Teach Us About Parties and Disagreement
BW: Thank you so much for speaking with me, Professor Kamensky. I’ve been thinking a lot about how political parties have evolved in the U.S.—how they both reflect and shape our civic culture. I’m especially curious how the founding generation thought about political division. Do their experiences offer any lessons for dealing with today’s polarization?
JK: That’s exactly the kind of question we’re asking at Monticello.
Parties in the early republic were, in many ways, an attempt to manage disagreement—to bring people together around broad visions so they didn’t fracture along more immediate, potentially dangerous lines. We’re launching a tour called Founding Friends, Founding Foes that looks at James Madison’s fear of faction and how parties emerged partly as a way to build broad coalitions.
We look at alliances like Southern Whigs and Northern Democrats, but the emotional center of the story is the relationship between Thomas Jefferson and John Adams. You could focus on Jefferson and Hamilton, whose visions were very far apart, but Jefferson and Adams had something different: a deep civic friendship.
They rose together in the Revolution, then fell out—so far that Adams didn’t attend Jefferson’s inauguration. After eleven years of silence, they began writing to each other again in 1813 and exchanged more than a hundred letters. Those letters are a model for engaging across difference: honest, clear about disagreements, but grounded in mutual respect and a shared belief that both were working for the good of the American people.
That’s the core lesson: history isn’t just content; it’s also a set of skills. If we can show visitors how Jefferson and Adams rebuild their relationship—by asking questions, presuming goodwill, and finding limited areas of agreement—maybe people will feel more able to do the same today.

How We Got to “Winner-Take-All” Politics
BW: One of the case studies in my capstone is the Great Compromise and how it emerged from deep disagreement. It feels like polarization has always been with us, but something about today seems different. Over your lifetime, how have American political ideologies evolved? What’s driving the current hyperpolarization?
JK: I’d say I’ve watched the change more across my life than just my career.
Starting in the late 20th century—especially the early 1990s—American politics shifted toward a winner-take-all mindset. The goal of politics became less “let’s come together to make change” and more “let’s stop them, even if it means we don’t move forward either.”
There are many ingredients. One is the media landscape. The end of the Fairness Doctrine in the late 1980s opened the door to talk radio and cable news that no longer had to present opposing viewpoints. When I was your age, there were four major channels. During something like Watergate, people of all political stripes saw the same coverage and heard the same trusted anchors. There was more shared factual ground, even with political disagreement.
Now, media outlets can survive—and even thrive—by feeding their audiences only what they already believe. That’s a powerful accelerant for polarization.

The Nationalization of Politics and Decline of Local News
BW: That resonates with what I’ve been reading. How has the decline of local news changed our political culture?
JK: The loss of local journalism has been devastating for civic life.
Local papers have been shuttering at an alarming rate. When people lose local reporting, they lose trusted sources who cover school boards, city councils, zoning—everything that shapes their immediate lives.
Instead, they end up getting most of their political information from national outlets, which are often highly partisan or geared toward outrage. That “nationalization” of our discourse makes it harder to say, “I disagree with you on this issue, but we agree on that one, so let’s work together.” Nuance gets crowded out.
On top of that, civic education has eroded. In the 1960s and afterward, many civics courses were dropped, sometimes by people on the left who worried those classes were just patriotic indoctrination. The unintended result is generations who know less about how government actually works. Where knowledge declines, trust usually follows.

Social Media and Identity Politics
BW: You’ve mentioned media changes and civic education. What about social media? Platforms today seem to reward outrage and performative behavior. How do you see that shaping polarization?
JK: Social media is the most extreme expression of trends that began with cable. It’s a business model built on neuropsychology.
I find Jonathan Haidt’s work persuasive: these platforms are designed to be addictive. They rewire our brains, even absent bad actors. Add in disinformation campaigns, and you get an environment that’s very poor for civil conversation. People are placed into echo chambers where their identity gets bound up with what they “like” and what they “hate.” That’s not fertile ground for dialogue.
BW: And how do you think identity politics fits into all this?
JK: We all have multiple, overlapping identities—but modern politics and social media often flatten us down to one or two.
You might be a young white man. I’m an aging white woman. Someone else might choose one of dozens of gender identifiers. None of that captures the fullness of who we are or what we care about.
What gives me some hope is that, in the 2024 election, voting behavior didn’t always follow the identity lines people predicted. That suggests identity doesn’t entirely dictate belief. I’m a big fan of the research group More in Common; they focus on what unites Americans, and it turns out that’s still quite a lot.
The American “genius” has been to build an incredibly diverse, pluralistic society around a shared set of ideals: that all people are created equal and have a right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Identity politics can make us forget that North Star—but it doesn’t erase it.

Bowling Alone, Marrying Apart, and Reasons for Hope
BW: One study I came across found that in 2020, less than a third of marriages were between people of different political affiliations—down from nearly half in the early 1970s. How do you think about statistics like that?
JK: That ties directly into Robert Putnam’s Bowling Alone.
Putnam shows how we’ve lost “middle spaces” of association—bowling leagues are his famous example—where people of different backgrounds and beliefs came together for reasons unrelated to politics. Those spaces created cross-cutting ties that made it harder to demonize one another.
Now, even dating is algorithmic; people can sort potential partners by political label. Neighborhoods are more ideologically sorted, too. You used to see opposing yard signs on the same street. Now people move to enclaves of the like-minded.
But let me end on a hopeful note. Your generation is, in some ways, more skeptical than mine—polls show young Americans less likely to say democracy is essential. That’s worrying. At the same time, you’re also more aware of how social media manipulates us, and less willing to let corporations or political machines dictate your beliefs.
These trends are not destiny. They’re patterns. And patterns can be changed.
BW: Thank you again for taking the time to talk with me. I’m really excited to share my capstone with you when it’s finished.
JK: I’m looking forward to reading it. And please keep me posted on your college decisions—you’ve got an exciting path ahead.

Discovering Journalism
BW: Thank you so much for speaking with me, Mr. Stephens. To start, what inspired you to pursue a career in journalism?
BS: It started in high school.
I launched a very contrarian alternative student newspaper because I didn’t care for the official paper, which I found dull. That little project turned out to be the most interesting thing I did in high school.
There’s a funny twist to the story: the editor of the mainstream student paper—who was a few years ahead of me—is now the editor in chief of The New York Times, Joe Kahn. So both of us, in our own ways, ended up where we probably belonged. High school journalism was the direct path to everything that followed.

What Makes a Good Opinion Writer
BW: I work on my school newspaper too—though mine is the mainstream one, not the contrarian one. For students thinking about opinion writing, what skills or qualities matter most, and how can we develop them?
BS: I’d highlight three things.
First, you have to be an opinionated person. Not everyone is, and that’s fine. Some people are naturally hesitant to offer strong views; they’re more comfortable just reporting facts. But to write opinion, you need to know that you yourself are someone with strong, considered views.
Second, you need a lot of information at your disposal. I often compare writing a column to cooking a meal. You need a well-stocked pantry—your long-term knowledge of history, ideas, and context—and a well-stocked fridge—the current news, the “perishables.” Good opinion writing is combining those in a way readers find nourishing.
Third, there’s the craft of writing itself. I call it a craft rather than an art because it’s something an intelligent person can learn through practice. The best way to learn is by reading great writers and imitating them. Over time, in the gap between your imitation and the original, you begin to discover your own voice.
BW: Who were the writers you tried to imitate when you were younger?
BS: In high school, the big one for me was George Will.
I admired his style and substance. He was conservative, and I was a young conservative, so I agreed with many of his views. But more than that, he wasn’t a cookie-cutter partisan. He could surprise you. That independence was very appealing.
But before George Will, there was my father. My dad had a business career but wrote a column on the side for our hometown paper in Mexico City. On Saturdays, when his column appeared, we’d go to the kiosk to buy the paper. Seeing his words in print, watching them spark conversations and arguments—that feeling made a huge impression on me.

On Journalism School (Don’t Go)
BW: With journalism changing so quickly—and everything being accessible online—do you think journalism school is still important? What educational path would you recommend for aspiring opinion writers?
BS: My short answer: the biggest mistake a young journalist can make is going to journalism school.
I think it’s a waste of money and, more importantly, a waste of time. I’ve hired many journalists, and I don’t think any of them had journalism degrees. If anything, I’d be suspicious of someone who did.
What you need instead is a combination of habits, skills, and knowledge. If you want to be a foreign correspondent, learn a tough language—Mandarin, Arabic, Russian. Read widely, not just news but literature and history. Build a dense mental map so that when someone mentions 1948, 1956, or 1967 in the Middle East, those dates mean something to you.
You can’t connect the dots if you don’t know where the dots are. A lot of young journalists simply don’t have enough in their heads—no shared historical or cultural references with the people they’re covering. That, to me, is a much bigger problem than not having a journalism credential.

Seeing America from Abroad
BW: You’ve written extensively about the Middle East. Last time we talked, you mentioned traveling to Gaza and how that hands-on experience shaped your perspective. How has time in the region informed your analysis compared to journalists who cover it mostly from afar?
BS: Direct experience changes everything.
I’ve built deep relationships with people in many regions. Just today, for example, I spent a few hours driving to pick up my daughter from school and used that time to have long calls with sources in the Middle East. That kind of ongoing conversation gives you insight you’ll never get from simply reading other people’s reporting.
Even if you plan to cover local issues, I think every journalist benefits from leaving the country. Living abroad lets you see America in a new light. I learned a tremendous amount about the United States from my years in Mexico because that outsider vantage point makes you notice what residents take for granted.

Staying a Student (Even as an Expert)
BW: As a student, I sometimes worry about not knowing enough to write about big issues. How do you handle writing on topics you’re still learning about? Do you wait until you fully understand something before you publish?
BS: A thoughtful person never stops being a student. You don’t age out of that.
Even as someone seen as an expert, you should be constantly learning and open to surprise. The danger is thinking you know everything you need to know. I try very hard to resist that.
From time to time, you realize you’ve been wrong. The right response is to say so. Having a column means you’re in an ongoing conversation with readers. You owe it to them to be candid. In a recent piece titled “Done With Never Trump,” I wrote about rethinking aspects of my stance toward the Trump presidency. Some readers were furious; others appreciated the honesty. That’s how it should be.

Being a Conservative at a Liberal Paper
BW: You’ve sometimes clashed with other Times columnists. How do those internal disagreements shape the opinion section? And what is it like being a more conservative writer in a largely liberal newsroom?
BS: We try not to have public feuds, but of course there are disagreements—that’s by design.
The editors who hired me knew I wouldn’t line up with many of my colleagues. That was the point: they wanted ideological diversity. There have been a few moments where clashes have been more visible, but those are the exception, not the rule.
Do I feel like a minority at the paper? Sure—but that’s not a surprise. I knew what I was signing up for. And there are upsides. Sometimes it’s an advantage to be the dissenting voice; people may pay more attention, whether they agree or not. I’ve chosen this role, and I’m glad to be where I am.

Breaking In and Moving Up
BW: On a personal note, journalism is something I’m seriously considering. Say I follow the path you suggest—study history or a language, read widely, develop a knowledge base. What comes next? Is it just applying to smaller jobs and working my way up, or is there a more specific path?
BS: There really isn’t a single beaten path—especially in opinion journalism with a foreign policy focus. There might be a couple dozen jobs like that in the entire country.
People arrive there by very individual routes. In my case, I grew up abroad, which gave me a distinctive background. I had a strong interest in journalism from high school onward. I read voraciously and stayed open to unusual opportunities.
So my advice is: build deep knowledge, write constantly, and be willing to take the less conventional path if it gets you closer to the work you want to do. There’s no rigid ladder—but there are lots of ways up.
BW: Thank you so much for taking the time. I really appreciate it—and I know our readers will too.
BS: Thanks for having me. And keep writing.

History, Faith, and Calling Out Injustice
AB: Even when doors were closed, I kept pushing. I took the LSAT because I wanted to go to law school. I failed it. Years later, the test was challenged all the way to the U.S. Supreme Court and declared racially biased and unconstitutional. By then, I’d moved on, but that tells you something about the systems we were up against.
Everywhere I saw injustice—against me or my people—I tried to take a stand. Sometimes we won. Sometimes we didn’t. But even when you “lose,” if you speak up, people know it’s wrong.
My mother told me when I was about sixteen: “Sometimes people will say and do things to you because of your race, and you may not be able to stop them. But you can at least make sure they know it’s wrong.” That’s stayed with me my entire life.
Today, I still have concerns about institutions—including the Catholic Church. Historically, the Church played a role in colonization and the transatlantic slave trade. As a country, the United States did terrible things to Indigenous peoples—forcing them off their land, passing the Indian Removal Act in 1830 under Andrew Jackson, sending them on the Trail of Tears with little food or clothing.
You can get pretty rich as a nation if you steal land and don’t pay your laborers.
So even now, I raise those issues—with the Church, with government, with whoever needs to hear it. We’re also in a moment where antisemitism, racism, Islamophobia, homophobia—hate of all kinds—is on the rise again.
Somewhere, voices have to be loud and clear: denouncing, taking a stand, shining light on the darkness. Only light can drive out darkness. Only truth can drive out lies. Only love can drive out hate.

Where America Is Today—and Why Young People Matter
BW: I don’t want to take up too much more of your time, so I’ll close on this. Civil rights have progressed in part because of organizations like your AdHoc Group Against Crime and because of your work in Kansas City and beyond. But clearly, there’s much further to go.
Where do you see the U.S. today, and what’s the most pressing work that needs to be done in the immediate future? And if possible, how do you think high school students like myself can get involved?
AB: That’s probably the toughest question, but it may be the most important.
First, you’ve got to become aware of what’s going on around you. Pay attention.
I was President Obama’s campaign spokesperson for the western district of Missouri in 2008. When I stood in that crowd on that cold January day in 2009, watching him sworn in, I thought to myself, “Maybe America has finally turned a corner.”
Not that we were perfect—this country has never been perfect—but I thought we were moving in the right direction. I thought the “post-Obama” years would continue that arc.
You’re old enough to watch the news, read the papers, follow what’s happening. You can see we are far from where we were in those eight years.
So what can young people do? A few things:

• Read and learn. Don’t just take slogans at face value. Read history. Read about Indigenous peoples, about African American history, about the history of Jewish people, about immigrants from Latin America, Asia, Africa, Europe.
• Know each other’s stories. When you sit at a table with people of different backgrounds, you ought to bring some knowledge of their history and struggle. That’s how you avoid saying or doing things that hurt people, even unintentionally.
• Ask questions. Don’t be afraid to ask your parents, teachers, friends—“Why is it this way? How did we get here?”
• Speak up. When you turn 17 or 18, register and vote. I don’t care if you’re a Democrat, Republican, independent—whatever. But vote with a conscience for freedom and justice. And ask candidates: Where do you stand on inclusion? On race? On religion? On immigrants? On antisemitism? On racism?

Any candidate who doesn’t come with an inclusive agenda—who wants to exclude people because of their race, religion, or where they come from—that person should be questioned.
And it’s not just about national politics. If you’re in a classroom or a friend group and someone says, “All white people are this,” or “All Black people are that,” or “All Jews are this,” or “All Muslims are that”—you can’t just sit there. Silence can be consent.
You can say, “I don’t believe everybody in any group is one way.” You might get pushback—even from your own community—but you have to say it.
Finally, when you find yourself in shared spaces—like that group I spoke to recently with Jewish students and Black students going on a joint trip—take advantage of those moments. Hang out together, yes, but also talk about what it means to be Jewish after the Holocaust, what it means to be a descendant of enslaved people, what it means to be Indigenous, or an immigrant.
If we knew more about each other’s history, we’d be better at standing up for one another.


BW: Mr. Brooks, it’s been a pleasure talking to you—as always. I sincerely can’t thank you enough for speaking with me. I always learn so much when I talk with you. So from the bottom of my heart, thank you.
AB: Well, we’re learning together.
If you ever listen back to this and want clarification or context for anything I said, you’ve got my contact. And if you ever have questions, don’t hesitate to reach out.
Give my regards to your parents, please.
BW: I will. Thank you again, and have a great evening.
AB: You too. Bye now.

A Life in Many Hats
BW: Mr. Brooks, this interview—and the blog in general—was created to give high school students like myself a deeper insight into future career paths they may want to pursue. With you, a man who by no overstatement has worn many hats, I have a unique opportunity to explore several career paths at once.
Instead of spoiling the fun myself, could you briefly sum up some of the careers you’ve had in your lifetime, and what you’re involved in today?
AB: Well, first of all, what year are you in school?
BW: I’m a junior.
AB: Good, good. Well, first of all, I’m 91 years old—and I know I don’t look a day over 110.
My career really started in civil rights as a teenager. That’s what set the stage for who I am today, some seventy-plus years later.
I belonged to an organization called Fellowship House. You’re not old enough to remember some of the phrases people used back then, but your parents and grandparents might. When people talked about Jews or Black folks, they’d say, “Some of my best friends are Jews,” or “Some of my best friends are Black.”
Well, in my case, one of my very best friends really was white. His name was Fred Sacks. He and I were the same age—he was born in March, I was born in May of 1932—and for some reason we just clicked at Fellowship House. There were maybe a dozen or so kids, and we kind of sorted ourselves out into groups. Fred and I gravitated toward each other.
That’s where we started doing things that challenged the system, even as teenagers.

“How Fast Can We Eat Before They Kick Me Out?”
AB: I’m talking about 1946. We were juniors in high school. Back then, Black folks were prohibited from eating at the lunch counters downtown.
Here was the “game”: my white friends would sit at the counter and order. I’d walk around the store for a while until my hamburger or hot dog came up. Then I’d sit down next to them—and the game was, “How fast can I eat before the manager comes over, kicks me out, and scolds my white friends?”
Fred and I kept up that kind of thing for years. His wife has been gone about ten years now, so this was probably twelve years ago when we last talked about it. We stayed close even as adults. I married young, and Fred and my brother-in-law Maurice became very close too.
I kept following that path—pushing, protesting—and my wife joined me. She worked with organizations that fought racism and organized protests for public accommodations, housing, and fairness.
When I joined the Kansas City Police Department at age 22 in 1954, I had to formally step away from that public activism—but my wife continued. A lot of the strategizing and planning, the “subversive” stuff, took place at our dining room table.

From Police Officer to City Hall and the AdHoc Group Against Crime
AB: When I joined the police department on June 1, 1954, I had to step back from direct protest work, but the movement didn’t stop.
Later on, I left the police department because I could see I was limited in how far I could go. Promotions were few and far between for Black officers. I didn’t want to stay there, end up bitter, and retire from the same patrol spot I’d started on.
Before the police department, I’d worked for the Ford Motor Company for two years in 1952. Even though they had a federal contract making B-47 bomber engines, we still couldn’t get on the production line. We were all custodians and janitors. We jokingly called ourselves “sanitation engineers.” That was as high as we could go.
From the police department, I went to the Kansas City public school district, which was in transition because of Brown v. Board of Education and the Supreme Court’s decision that public education must be integrated “with all deliberate speed.”
I was there when the riots broke out after Dr. King was assassinated on April 4, 1968. The next week there were marches in Kansas City. The police used tear gas—even tear-gassed one of the Catholic churches where kids had gone after a march.
Shortly afterward, I was appointed Director of Human Relations—the first Black person to hold a director-level job in city government. I set up the Human Relations Department and spent the next several years trying to mend fences, bring communities together, and build strong relationships with civil-rights groups—Jewish organizations, Protestant and Catholic organizations, and others working on human rights.
From 1968 to 1972, I served as Director of Human Relations. After that, I became an assistant city manager in Kansas City, Missouri.
At the same time, in 1977, I started a group called the AdHoc Group Against Crime. It’s still around today, with a somewhat different focus, but the mission of addressing crime and its root causes continues.
I retired from city government in 1992, but AdHoc had already brought national attention to Kansas City. It even brought President George H.W. Bush to Kansas City in January 1990 to see what we were doing.
I’ve had a lot of jobs—a lot of career “hats”—and I’ve enjoyed every moment. Some of them were painful and troublesome. They showed me just how far our society still is from providing opportunity and inclusion to everyone. But that’s the arc of my life’s work.

Growing Up Under Jim Crow—and Refusing to Accept It
BW: In your book Binding Us Together, you describe the systemic oppression and adversity you faced in your life. How did you overcome those hardships and turn your life into one of advocacy and inspiration? And what lessons have stood the test of time?
AB: That’s a very good question.
The struggle started early—literally months after I was born. I was born in Carlisle County, near North Little Rock, Arkansas, on May 3, 1932. I was adopted by the Brookses, Chester and Estelle Brooks.
As an infant, I had a serious stomach condition. I couldn’t keep anything down. Because of discrimination in Arkansas, we couldn’t get decent medical care as Black people, so my mother took me to St. Louis, Missouri. There was a health center there started by Dr. Homer G. Phillips, an African American physician who created medical facilities for Black patients in St. Louis.
They examined me and basically told my mother, “We don’t know exactly what’s wrong, but given his condition, if nothing changes, he probably won’t live beyond age six.”
My mother took me back home. A local country doctor came by and said, “Goat’s milk is good for an upset stomach.” You don’t hear that phrase much today, but that’s what they called it. My dad bought a goat, and I was on goat’s milk until my junior year of high school, when we moved to Kansas City.
I went to all-Black elementary and high schools because we couldn’t attend white schools. There were eight white high schools and two Black ones in Kansas City before Brown v. Board in 1954.
I really began to feel the weight of discrimination as a kid, eight, nine, ten years old. We moved into an area with poor white kids—poorer than we were. At first we fought, then we became friends. And because we were friends, some of them got labeled for associating with me.
We’d save pennies, collect pop bottles, and scrape together money. We’d go to the drugstore for ice cream. They would let my white friends go in and buy their cones, but they wouldn’t let me in. I had to hand my nickel to one of my friends, they’d buy my two dips of ice cream, and then I’d eat outside.
I also had an experience at the Kansas City Club downtown when I was about ten. I walked in by mistake—I should’ve gone to the Kansas City Athletic Club nearby. The way they treated me as a Black child is something I never forgot.
There was only one place downtown where a Black person could sit and eat: a lunch counter inside the Crest variety store, right off the alley. It wasn’t much, but it was the only option.
I remember asking my mother, as a ten- or eleven-year-old, “Why can’t we do what they do?” My mother never used words like “racism” with me. She didn’t have that vocabulary. But she talked to me about discrimination, segregation, right and wrong.
As I grew into my teenage years, she kept telling me: “You’ve got to do well. You’ve got to be better than your white friends, because people will judge you differently.”
I was a good student in high school, and I played sports, but we couldn’t compete against the white schools in Kansas City because everything was segregated. We played in the Negro Leagues of high school sports—traveling to places like St. Louis and across the region to play Black teams, while the white schools played each other.
Even as a Cub Scout, we weren’t allowed inside the main arena for certain events. We had to sit up in the periphery, watching other people come and go.
I never learned to accept it. I didn’t lash out physically, but I always stood my ground verbally.
Later, when my wife and I converted to Catholicism, I tried to transfer my credits from a previous college to Rockhurst College (now Rockhurst University), a Catholic school. I had 68 hours of coursework with about a 3.45 GPA. The courses were the same ones they accepted from other colleges, but they didn’t want to give me credit for a full seven semesters. That wasn’t just bureaucracy—that was discrimination.
So I went over to the University of Kansas City—now the University of Missouri–Kansas City—and finished my degree there.
And here’s the twist: next month, God willing, they’ll break ground on a $7 million center on the Rockhurst campus called the Alvin Brooks Center for Faith–Justice. Sometimes life comes full circle in unexpected ways.

High School, School Newspapers, and a Pivot Away from Medicine
BW: High school experiences often play a big role in career decisions. Was there something you did in high school—or something that happened then—that pushed you toward a career in policy and research?
AC: Yes. I’ve always said that if I weren’t doing what I do now—working on children’s issues, health, resilience, and so on—I would probably be a journalist.
In high school, I was editor of the school paper, and I loved it. I liked asking questions, learning about communities and different populations. I also did Model UN and, briefly, debate until our debate team fell apart.
I grew up in a fairly politically active household. My father was a mathematician, and both my parents were in STEM fields, and some of my siblings also went into math and science. But our upbringing was very liberal arts–oriented. Reading was important. Talking about politics and policy was normal.
So even though, for a long time, I thought I was going to be a physician—specifically a pediatrician—I was always more interested in the systems, structures, and policies behind why we do what we do as a society.
I started my career in direct service, working with kids with special health care needs. But at the end of college, I made a big pivot away from medicine. Looking back, it was really a return to what my high school and childhood had primed me for: being more interested in changing policy than in providing individual care.
I wanted to ask, “Why do we keep doing the same things over and over, even when they don’t work?” Rather than continuing to operate in those systems, I wanted to help change them—health policy, social policy, and so on.
I was always interested in political science, in traveling, and in how politics intersected with health and social issues. All of that combined to push me toward policy research.

Why Debate, Conflict, and Critical Thinking Matter
AC: The more distance I get from it, the more I think that school paper experience was critical.
I grew up in North Carolina. It was—and is—a place of contradictions. I went to a school where the Confederate flag was still present, yet we read Toni Morrison and Maus—books that are now being banned in parts of North Carolina.
My school was a lesson in contradiction. We talked about those contradictions. You could see the lingering impacts of Jim Crow in the community, but we didn’t shy away from hard conversations.
One of my worries today is that a lot of students aren’t getting enough of that kind of conflict in a productive sense. On some college campuses, we’re seeing more shouting and less healthy debate.
So I always tell students: some form of debate experience is incredibly valuable—Model UN, debate club, even debating in another language in your French or Spanish club. The ability to think critically, to argue from a counterfactual or a counter-narrative, is essential.
It’s not just for policy careers. It’s how you navigate leadership roles later in life. It helps you handle conflict, and we desperately need people skilled in civil discourse and conflict resolution.

Practical Steps: What Students Can Do Right Now
BW: For my last question—and I touched on this briefly when we met last month—what can high school students do now if they want to explore a career similar to yours?
AC: I would say: get into it, even in small ways.
We often bemoan the lack of civics or policy exposure. So start there. Read widely. You mentioned The Economist—that’s one option. But build a diverse, interesting reading list: policy analysis, international news, social issues. That’s something you can start tomorrow.
In terms of experiences, certain opportunities can give you relevant exposure:

• Working on a political campaign (even though RAND itself is nonpartisan, that skill set is useful).
• Doing an internship in government—local, state, or federal.
• Working or volunteering with an NGO or advocacy organization that focuses on an issue you care about.

I worked at the Children’s Defense Fund, a major national advocacy organization. I don’t do advocacy anymore, but understanding how advocates think on Capitol Hill is very useful if you later become a researcher or policy analyst. You learn how they write policy briefs, how they meet with congressional aides, and how they frame arguments.
Some people will go on to become legislative aides right after college. That’s one path. But even if that’s not available to you right away, there are many ways to get exposure to policy work.
You absolutely want strong academic training in college. But you also need experiences outside the classroom: working in organizations that care about specific policy issues and seeing how they think about those issues—whether it’s gun policy, Middle East policy, climate, health, or something else.
There are internships out there, sometimes even for high school students, and certainly once you’re in college. Seek out those opportunities if you can.

BW: Thank you, Dr. Chandra. This has been extremely informative, and I’m sure it will be very insightful for many people looking to pursue similar career paths.
AC: You’re very welcome. I’m glad you’re asking these questions and thinking about this so early.

What a Vice President at RAND Actually Does
BW: First off, I wanted to thank you so much for allowing me to have this interview with you. I really appreciate it. The goal today is to give high school students, like myself, a better understanding of different career paths they might want to pursue—in this instance, a career in policy recommendation and research.
With that in mind, could you start by describing what your role is at the RAND Corporation and what a typical day looks like?
AC: Sure—happy to. I wear a couple of hats at RAND. I’m the vice president of one of our research divisions, called Social and Economic Well-Being, and I also still do research as a senior policy researcher.
So my days are really a mix of leadership and management responsibilities, along with direct research work. That’s a little unusual, but it speaks to the flexibility of an organization like RAND.
In my vice president role, I have a few big functions. One is overseeing the body of work we produce in key policy areas. That means I manage relationships with the funders who support our research—but even more importantly, I oversee the conduct and quality of that research and make sure we’re having the impact we intend.
RAND’s mission is about the public good. We’re nonpartisan and independent. It’s really important that we get our work out there, that we meet decision-makers where they are, and that we inform policy decisions in real time when possible—or push people to think differently about policy issues.
On any given day, that means both internal and external work. Internally, I’m supporting research staff, mentoring people, making sure projects are executed well and on time. Externally, I’m talking about RAND’s work to policymakers, funders, and other stakeholders—sometimes the media, sometimes other influencers.
And no day looks the same. I might be talking about climate change in the morning, criminal justice reform in the afternoon, and science and tech policy in the evening, because the division I direct covers a lot of ground. That’s exciting for someone like me who doesn’t want to stay in a single topic area and likes to connect the dots. A place like RAND has been a really good fit.

How Big Public Policy Projects Turn Into Publications
BW: I was scrolling through your profile on RAND’s website and was genuinely in awe of the sheer number of publications you’ve worked on. Could you break down the process of creating those publications? How long do they take? How do you get the research? How do you choose a topic?
AC: One thing about RAND is that we look for people who are pretty entrepreneurial.
What does that mean? A few things. One is that they can connect dots—they’re not so narrowly specialized that they’re only doing one tiny thing forever. Unlike a university department, where you might become an expert on one very specific topic, at RAND we want people to have expertise in key areas and be able to connect those areas.
When you come into the organization and start building project work, you’re thinking that way. You’re writing proposals, getting your work funded and supported—that’s the first step, before you even get to publishing. Someone has to be interested in supporting the research, whether it’s the U.S. government, philanthropic foundations, or foreign governments. As long as we maintain our independence and quality standards, we work with a lot of partners around the world.
Those projects eventually result in publications—but not all dissemination is in the form of traditional written reports. We do RAND Reports, which go through a rigorous peer-review process. Sometimes we publish externally in academic journals.
But we also do a lot of other things: we testify in front of Congress, we create more digital content than ever before, we write shorter briefs and blog-style pieces. People need information faster now. Different generations consume information differently. Not everyone is going to pick up a 100- or 200-page RAND report and read it cover to cover.
So we’re experimenting with different ways to “publish”—really, to disseminate—and get insights into the right hands at the right time. That’s the trick of public policy work: knowing the ecosystem, understanding windows of opportunity, and making sure you have something useful ready when decision-makers are ready to hear it.
Publications are one piece of that, but not the only one.

Survey Research, COVID-19, and Understanding Public Attitudes
BW: You recently published an article titled Preparing for the Next Pandemic, where you ask whether COVID-19 has changed American attitudes. I was really interested in how that data was collected. I saw some of the methods, but I wanted to ask more specifically: how do you send surveys out, and how do you choose who you send them to?
AC: Great question. I do a decent amount of survey research, along with others at RAND. I’m what people might call a mixed-methods researcher.
Some people at RAND spend a lot of time with what we call secondary data—things like hospital claims, military personnel data, and so on. That’s important. Others, like me, also do a lot of primary data collection. One key way we do that is through surveys.
We have our own survey infrastructure at RAND. For example, we run something called the American Life Panel, where we follow a set of Americans over many years. I’ve also worked with external survey firms to build samples.
Sampling is absolutely critical. It allows us to say that the work is nationally representative. We think carefully about how to get the right demographic mix, how to use statistical weighting so the sample matches the U.S. population, and how to avoid skewed results.
There’s a lot of behind-the-scenes work in recruitment and sampling frames, on top of the careful work of designing the survey questions themselves.
Since 2015, we’ve been asking Americans how they view their health in general—where their ideas, myths, and perceptions come from—because, in many ways, the U.S. is still facing a health crisis. During COVID, we went much deeper with a sample of Americans, tracking how their perspectives changed over time.
The idea was: if we understand how people are thinking during a crisis, we can improve risk communication in the future. I don’t think anyone would say our COVID response was perfect. Some things went well; some didn’t. One area where we struggled was communicating risk: explaining how information was changing daily, what the latest protection standards were, and so forth.
By capturing attitudes during the pandemic, with a robust sample, we gained insights we can carry into the next emergency—because there will be a next emergency, whether it’s a pandemic, a climate-related disaster, or something else.
And stepping back, one thing that distinguishes RAND is that we do a lot of our own data collection and analysis. Many policy organizations mainly interpret or comment on existing data. We do that and build original datasets—which helps us pose interesting questions and design strong methods.

When Research Shapes National Policy
BW: Your work at RAND addresses a wide range of social issues, and you mentioned earlier that funding can sometimes come from the U.S. government. Could you share a few examples of how your research or policy recommendations have had an impact—maybe even at a national level?
AC: Sure. During the height of the Iraq and Afghanistan wars, we did some of the first and only work on how those wars affected children in military families.
Those conflicts involved the military differently than previous wars. The National Guard and Reserves were called up more, which meant many families weren’t living on bases or used to a “traditional” military lifestyle. Their kids might have seen a parent leave for one weekend a month, not long deployments.
We didn’t know much about how adolescents were handling that—caring for younger siblings, dealing with stress, managing school. Our work essentially informed some of the initiatives led by then–First Lady Michelle Obama and Dr. Jill Biden to support military families. We met with them several times, and those efforts continue in different forms today.
Another example: my work on pandemic and disaster response helped inform the United States’ first-ever National Health Security Strategy. For a long time, “health security” wasn’t really a defined policy area. But with climate change, geopolitical instability, bioterrorism, and advances in things like synthetic biology, health security has become a critical concept.
Years ago, our work on emergency preparedness, public health, anthrax, and pandemics put us in the room, behind the scenes, helping to design that first national strategy. It’s had a long-lasting impact.
Some of my work on community resilience and trauma has been used internationally, including in regions like Israel and Palestine, where communities are dealing with overlapping trauma and prolonged conflict. It’s sobering, but it shows how research on resilience can be applied in many contexts.
These are just snapshots. The bigger point is that at RAND, we measure success by impact on the public good, not just by the number of publications. Publishing is a means to an end: informing better decisions.

Inside KC’s Sports Boom: Parades, Drafts, and the World Cup
BW: I think that accessibility is one of the reasons we’ve seen so many dramatic changes here—especially in sports. We’re coming off an epic Super Bowl parade. The Royals are planning a new location. The KC Current will have their own stadium, the NFL Draft is coming, and Kansas City will host a 2026 FIFA World Cup match.
What role does the Kansas City government play in organizing these events? And how do you make sure these developments are equitable and accessible to everyone in the city?
QL: There are a few things we do. First, we provide direct dollars to support many of these events. For the NFL Draft, for example, Kansas City taxpayers are kicking in about $3 million. So we are investors in these things.
Then there are all the structural responsibilities: street closures, law enforcement, public safety, fire and paramedic support. These events are huge operations, and often City Hall ends up taking on a big share of that responsibility.
Our partners at the Kansas City Sports Commission handle a lot of the planning for sporting events—like designing the parade route and so on. But there’s still a lot of “less fun” local-government work: making sure there are enough porta-potties at the Chiefs parade, for example. That’s our world.

Who Actually Runs Kansas City’s Major Events?
BW: Is there a specific person in local government who handles sports events, or is it mainly external groups like the Sports Commission?
QL: We often contract with the Sports Commission to organize things, so they’re a big partner.
Within city government, we have a Director of Conventions who works on making sure a lot of the logistics run smoothly.
But I still end up in a lot of those meetings too—sometimes talking about things that seem really mundane like, “Is this street open or is that one?” or “Who gets to speak at this event?” or “Who’s invited to the VIP experience at the Chiefs parade?”
If I’d known you guys were rising star journalists, I would’ve made sure you were on that VIP list.
BW: We’re definitely winning next year!

How High School Students Can Get Involved Now
BW: What advice do you have for high school students who want to pursue a career path similar to yours? Is there any way they can get involved right now?
QL: Absolutely.
First, I have internship programs at City Hall—that’s a great way to start. I occasionally have students job-shadow me as well. My last job shadow was from Rockhurst High School—though I’m pro-Barstow guys, don’t worry.
Those direct exposure opportunities are valuable.
More broadly, I think schools didn’t always emphasize public service as much as they could have when I was growing up. Post-2020, there’s a lot more discussion about how to be better public servants in our communities. Community service has always been a thing, but I’d encourage students to go deeper: really study up on Kansas City, learn our issues, and pay attention to local government.
You can meet with me, councilmembers, mayors in other jurisdictions—that’s all good. But the big thing is to get to know the issues.
When I was in high school, I read the newspaper every day. It’s not as full or extensive as it used to be 25 years ago, but staying on top of local news still matters.
A lot of people want to argue about what’s going on in Washington. Sometimes that’s necessary, sometimes it’s not. But knowing what’s happening right here is a big deal.

Tackling Housing and Homelessness in Kansas City
BW: I was doing some research on your website, and I saw you created a special housing committee. Could you tell us a bit about that?
QL: Sure. Fifty years ago, local government was mostly building roads, hiring police officers and firefighters, and doing basic services.
Now, if you travel to places like San Francisco or Los Angeles—or any number of cities—you see growing homeless populations. Kansas City is no different.
Our goal was to stop just contracting everything out to outside organizations and start asking, “What’s our plan?”
A few things came out of that. One is a $75 million housing trust fund—the first in our city’s history. I think that’s incredibly cool. When I was on City Council, we didn’t even have money set aside to support those kinds of resources.
We’re also trying to make government more efficient and effective. Historically, we haven’t always been the best spenders of funds. Now we’re saying: we recognize we have this money; we have to make sure it’s spent well, that we’re producing the greatest number of units possible, that we’re providing affordable and accessible housing, and that we’re building it throughout Kansas City—not just concentrating poverty in the same places.
BW: You mentioned that $75 million housing fund. Is that tax-funded or private?
QL: It’s primarily taxpayer-funded. We issued bonds—basically took out a loan—to help pay for the housing, and it’s funded through the city. If anyone out there has money and wants to add to it, we’ll take that too.

Campaigns, Retail Politics, and the Road to Re-Election
BW: From what I’ve seen, you’re expected to win the primary today. So as you move into the general election, what does campaign strategy look like now? How is it different from your first run?
QL: It’s funny what a difference four years makes.
When I first ran for mayor, I was the youngest candidate—34 years old—and there were about 12 candidates in the race. It was tough. I got through the primary with 18% of the vote; the top person had 21%. A whole bunch of people were bunched up behind us.
This time is different. I don’t have to do as many television ads or debates as I did last time.
What I’ll keep doing, though, is what’s called “retail politics.” I love it. It’s just pure engagement with citizens: showing up at events, shaking hands, going to games, talking with people.
I don’t really think of it as campaigning because I enjoy it. For example, I went to a game at DelaSalle high school—they had an exceptional basketball team this year. That’s a chance to watch sports, meet families, shake hands.
So you’ll see me at a lot of sporting events and community gatherings. I do a lot of them.

Looking Ahead: World Cup, Downtown Growth, and Public Safety
JH: Assuming you’re re-elected, as you move into the next four years, are there any plans you can share or things you’re especially focused on?
QL: We’ve got to deliver a great World Cup in 2026. I assume you guys will be out of high school by then, but I want you to come back from college—or wherever you are—and feel proud of what Kansas City did.
I want us to continue building up the city. We’re seeing new offices, new buildings in downtown Kansas City. That’s very different from when I was in high school. Back then, our downtown development had stagnated. I want to see real growth there.
We need to build out the riverfront area.
And fundamentally, we need to make the city safer. There are areas of Kansas City that are very safe, but we still have too many homicides and too many shootings. We have to keep improving.

Making Kansas City Safer for Young People
BW: How do you even start to change that? How do you combat gun violence as mayor?
QL: It’s the hardest thing of all.
It’s shocking, but a lot of people picking up guns for the first time are 13 to 17 years old. So a lot of it is about prevention: how do we show young people there are paths other than violence?
We revived the Mayor’s Night Hoops program—I got that idea from Mayor Cleaver. I’m very proud of it. But Mayor’s Night isn’t just about basketball. We’re trying to expand activities for youth—arts, recreation, other programs—so they see real opportunities for themselves.
A lot of our young people may not be going on to college. So making sure they know there are other good options and real job paths is key.

The Traits That Matter in Public Service
BW: Your story is inspiring, and what you’ve done in Kansas City is incredible. For people looking to join this sector, what personal qualities do you think are important for success in politics and public service? Are those traits natural, or can you develop them?
QL: I think you can develop them over time. But there are a few you really need.
For one, you need thick skin. I got some practice as student body president in high school—but in public office, people talk about you a lot. You can’t take it all personally. You have to be able to keep moving.
Second, you need the ability to stay calm in tense situations. Not being a hothead is important.
Third, communication matters. You don’t have to be the world’s best public speaker, but it helps. Written communication is important too—being able to distill complex points into something digestible for the public.

Improv, Debate, and Learning to Think on Your Feet
JH: You mentioned public speaking. Were you always good at it? If not, how did you get better—debate, classes, practice?
QL: I did one debate tournament in high school—at Lee’s Summit North High School. It was a big one. I did well, but my real passion was improv.
I did improvisational duet acting in high school and was pretty good at it. A friend of mine and I did all these tournaments—I even spent time in Copenhagen, Denmark, in high school and kept doing it. I thought it was the best training possible.
People will push you toward debate—and debate is great. But improv was huge for me. It made me more creative and more joyful.
Being mayor is a lot like improv—random stuff happens all the time, and you have to respond in real time.

One Last Meal in Kansas City
BW: We don’t want to take too much of your time, so we’ll end with one last question. If you could only eat one last meal in all of Kansas City, where would it be, what would it be, and why?
QL: If it’s truly my last meal, I’m getting burnt ends at any number of barbecue places. I don’t want to pick a favorite—I love them all. But it’d definitely be barbecue and burnt ends. That’s comfort food for your last meal.
If I’m taking my wife out for our last meal together in Kansas City, then I’d go fancier. I really like a German restaurant called Affäre in the Crossroads—A-F-F-A-R-E. It feels like taking a trip every time I eat there.
Honorable mention: Tacos El Gallo on Southwest Boulevard. It’s awesome. You guys should go there for lunch.

A Glimpse Into a Mayor’s Daily Routine
BW: Johnny and I want to thank you so much for sitting down with us. We’ve been looking forward to this interview, and we hope to make it a good one.
Our goal today is to give high school students a better understanding of which career paths they might want to pursue—in this case, a career in politics and public service. And because of the timing of this interview, with the 2023 local primary elections being held today, we’ll also ask you a couple of questions about the future of Kansas City.
QL: Awesome. You guys picked great timing.
BW: I’ll start us off. What does a typical day look like for the Mayor of Kansas City? What time do you get up, what time do you go to sleep, how many meetings do you have?
QL: I usually get up around 4:30 a.m. I try to hit the gym—because I’m trying not to have a heart attack while I’m still mayor. I’m only 38, so it feels early for that.
Then I get back, have a little family time, and I’m usually doing interviews by about 7 a.m.—mostly radio and media hits. I’m at City Hall by around 9.
I try to do most of my “intellectual work”—emails, reading, anything that requires real focus—in that 4:30 to 8 a.m. window, in between the gym and being with my kid.
Once I get to City Hall, I’ll usually have meetings starting at 9. I meet with internal staff—our city manager, my chief of staff, my team—mostly between 9 and 11. We try to schedule a lot of events and public appearances in the afternoon.
In the evening, I’m often at dinners, sporting events, or community events. So usually I’m engaged politically from about 6 a.m., when I start sending emails, until 7:30 or 8 p.m.
It’s pretty full. I don’t get to watch a lot of sports on TV—I miss out on that part.

From Housing Insecurity to City Hall
JH: Why did you pursue politics? Were there any experiences in high school that pushed you in that direction?
QL: Yeah. I remember when I was in high school—I went to school on State Line, like a lot of folks here do—the mayor back then, Mayor Cleaver, came and gave a speech. I remember thinking, “Mayors actually really get stuff done.”
They’re people who can make a difference without getting bogged down as much in the partisan battles you see in Congress or in the state legislatures in Missouri and Kansas. I thought it was a great way to have an impact.
For me, a lot of that came from my own experience. What we now call “housing insecurity”—we went through that. My family was homeless for a little while when I was growing up. It was an interesting mix: I was going to Barstow, but we were also staying in a by-the-hour motel in east Kansas City at one point.
That strange combination really shaped me. It encouraged me to find a way to help people and make sure fewer kids had to go through some of the challenges I did. That’s what pulled me into public service.
Just quickly on my education: I went to Washington University in St. Louis for college. Then I attended Cornell for law school—loved it. A lot of my buddies were going to practice law in New York City and were like, “What the hell? You’re going back to Kansas City? What are you going to do with your life?”
But I’ve loved it ever since. I ran for City Council in 2015, about six years out of law school.

Thinking Beyond City Hall: Governor, Cabinet, and Executive Leadership
BW: You talked about how impactful mayors can be. Are there any other roles in government you’d consider pursuing in the future?
QL: You’re asking the good questions—the kind they’ll use against me someday in a campaign.
If we’re being honest, I think it would be amazing to be governor of a state. I don’t know if I’d ever get elected governor of Missouri, but executive positions are really interesting because you get to be the decision-maker.
Mayor, governor, president—those are the roles where you’re hiring people, setting direction, making real decisions that shape a city or state. I think that’s fascinating.
And if the current president—or a future one—ever called and said, “I want you to be Secretary of Transportation,” or something like that? I’d be very interested. That would be fascinating too.

What a Mayor Actually Does in Kansas City’s Regional Ecosystem
JH: So as mayor, are you essentially the executive for the city council?
QL: Yeah. I get to pretend to be the “president of the city,” basically.
The cool thing about Kansas City is that so many of the big things we handle are regional. The airport is in Kansas City. A lot of our public transit, big venues, big events—they all serve a region of about 2.5 million people.
So you get to have an impact that’s bigger than just Kansas City, Missouri itself. That’s exciting for me.

Balancing Competing Needs Across a Growing City
BW: On that note of making Kansas City more dynamic: with the city’s popularity growing every day, how do you balance the needs and interests of different communities?
QL: It’s the hardest thing of all.
Some people really care about more funding for the arts. Other people say, “I don’t care about that—fix the sidewalk in front of my house.” Then there are a lot of people who say, “All of the above. I want everything to be perfect.”
The first step is engaging with a lot of different people. That’s why I’m out and about so much. You have to talk to people to know what’s really going on.
The other important thing is finding the concerns everyone shares. Potholes, for example, are something people deal with whether they live in a wealthy neighborhood or one with much lower home values.
I try to listen a lot and engage a ton. During the pandemic, I gave my cell phone number to the whole city.
People always ask, “Was that a good idea?” I say: eh. It got me a lot of random texts and calls. But it also gave me a chance to be out there, engaged and accessible.
One of my biggest goals is to be the most accessible mayor in the country. And I think we’ve come a long way toward that.