Sunday, March 22, 2026

The New York Times’ Love Affair with China

By Becket Adams

Sunday, March 22, 2026

 

What is it with the New York Times and communists?

 

They really love those guys.

 

Just consider the paper’s high regard for communist China, especially when it comes to the Chinese Communist Party’s supposed efforts to combat climate change. Never mind that nothing China says or does in this area involves altruism or global well-being; China is simply exploiting the progressive creed, which it knows resonates with the international community, to expand its sphere of influence. Never mind also that China is the world’s leading emitter of carbon.

 

Sure, nothing China says lines up with what it does, but it says it so well, and that’s what counts, right?

 

“Asia Turns Back to Coal as War Chokes Off Natural Gas,” declared a March 18 Times headline.

 

More notable than what the piece says is what it does not say. In a 1,100-plus-word article about Asia returning to coal, it’s never mentioned that China is the region’s largest consumer of . . . coal. Not once. The only mention of China is incidental, as a producer of low-cost solar panels.

 

We shouldn’t be surprised by this omission. Hiding the ball is typical of the Times’ coverage of communist regimes.

 

Instead of recognizing the obvious — that China is a cunning economic powerhouse and that it’s laughing itself silly as its rivals in Europe and North America willingly dismantle their energy capabilities — the Times’ news and opinion sections portray China as the world’s caretaker — the undisputed leader in humanity’s fight for survival.

 

“‘China Is the Engine’ Driving Nations Away From Fossil Fuels, Report Says,” reported the Times in September 2025.

 

Another article in the paper declared in August of that same year: “In the Quest for Clean Energy, China Went From Copycat to Creator.”

 

“China Poised to Take Lead on Climate After Trump’s Move to Undo Policies,” the paper declared a couple of years before that.

 

There’s also this: “There’s a Race to Power the Future. China Is Pulling Away.” And this: “What Happens if China Stops Trying to Save the World?” And this: “China Is the Adult in the Room on Climate Now.”

 

How about as far back as 2009: “On Climate Change Efforts, China Is Key.”

 

Or how about this gem: The “fight against climate change” is an “effort now mostly led by China.”

 

Har, har.

 

This isn’t just a fascination with China specifically. It’s a love and admiration for collectivism itself, a love bound by no race or border.

 

Recall that the Times spent decades reporting positively on the Soviet Union. Its infamous Moscow correspondent, Walter Duranty, used his position specifically to hide the empire’s brutality from the international community, including even the Holodomor famine. The Times didn’t disavow his reporting until 30 years after he had died.

 

The Times also published favorable coverage of the North Vietnamese Army in the 1960s, often minimizing or ignoring its excesses and brutality. Correspondent Harrison Salisbury’s field dispatches frequently relied heavily on information provided by NVA officials. The paper also extensively reported on the My Lai massacre, as it should have, while giving the short shrift to NVA atrocities such as the Huế Massacre, where an estimated 2,800–5,000 civilians were murdered and dumped into mass graves.

 

Then, of course, there’s the Times’ adoration of the Castro regime, which is well known to anyone who has read its coverage over the past 40 years.

 

Perhaps most shameful of all is that the paper was quick to dismiss U.S. intelligence reports that accurately predicted life under Pol Pot’s Khmer Rouge.

 

In April 1975, just before the Khmer Rouge took Phnom Penh, Times correspondent Sydney Schanberg (yes, the Killing Fields Schanberg) wrote a dispatch titled, “Indochina Without Americans: For Most, a Better Life.”

 

“It is difficult,” he argued in the article, “to imagine how their lives could be anything but better with the Americans gone.”

 

Later, in the immediate aftermath of the communist takeover of Cambodia, Schanberg reported that executions under the new Khmer Rouge regime “will apparently bear no resemblance to the mass executions that had been predicted by Westerners.”

 

This on-the-ground coverage earned him a Pulitzer.

 

To Schanberg’s great credit, he later owned up to his shocking gullibility and made a sharp about-face, committing himself fully to the even more difficult and dangerous task of exposing the regime’s evils; this work would be immortalized eventually in Roland Joffé’s The Killing Fields, which was released nearly a decade after the fall of Phnom Penh.

 

But we’re getting ahead of ourselves.

 

As for the Times, it painted a rosier picture in the early days of the Khmer Rouge. In July 1975, for example, it published work by a contributor who claimed that reports of mass starvation and killings in Cambodia were “selfserving exaggerations planted [by the U.S. government] to discredit the new government.

 

Enjoy this key passage:

 

These same sources gave birth to a flurry of sensational “bloodbath” stories, nourished with “eyewitness accounts,” that made headlines in the days immediately following the surrender of Phnom Penh. The “eyewitness accounts” turned out to be second or thirdhand rumors, and the stories quickly disappeared in the press in the absence of any substantiating evidence.

 

Now that the war has at last come to an end, there is reason to believe that after initial difficulties are surmounted the new Government’s all-out effort to increase food production will transform Cambodia into a land selfsufficient in food, and within a few years, into a riceexporting nation, as it was before it was ravished by war.

 

Even as the death toll steadily rose and the number of refugees fleeing Cambodia reached crisis proportions, the Times remained skeptical. Eventually, however, the paper shifted away from its hesitant framing. Yet despite humiliating itself once on the issue, the paper still published a contribution in 1990 titled, “Pol Pot: Not the Killer We Think He Is.” The article, which its own author disavowed in 2015, minimized the mass murders, doubted and contradicted the survivors, and even suggested that details of the Khmer Rouge’s worst excesses were actually part of a U.S. disinformation scheme.

 

Pol Pot, who would die peacefully eight years later, must’ve gotten a kick out of it.

 

What’s telling is that the paper never seems to learn or adjust its thinking, even after repeatedly getting it wrong.

 

Throughout these nearly identical episodes, which span an entire century, the pattern is the same: the Times provides favorable coverage of communist regimes until the wrongdoing becomes undeniable, leading to public embarrassment for the paper. This keeps happening. It’s still happening.

 

This tendency to “misjudge” and “misreport” on these regimes, despite the abundance of trend data, shows that the Times’ default approach to covering communist governments is not one of curiosity or journalistic inquiry but one of reflexive, almost instinctive support.

 

How else to explain the consistently sloppy coverage?

 

If a newspaper consistently grants communist regimes favorable coverage and continues to do so even after each regime proves to be just as evil as the rest of us suspected, and even after multiple professional humiliations, we must conclude that the paper isn’t just ignorant or forgetful — we must conclude that this keeps happening because the paper supports communist regimes.

America’s Political-Violence Problem and Its Anti-Semitism Crisis Are Colliding

By Seth Mandel

Thursday, March 19, 2026

 

I urge everyone to read this interview with Florida Democratic Rep. Jared Moskowitz on how his name was found on a kill list full of other Jewish targets. The story is harrowing but there are lessons here we must take to heart if we want to stop American politics from becoming a nightmarishly real version of the Most Dangerous Game.

 

Near Moskowitz’s family home in late 2024, the sound of gunfire encouraged someone to call 9-1-1. Authorities ended up at John Kevin Lipinski’s house and arrested him. “Inside the home,” Roll Call reports, “prosecutors said authorities discovered an arsenal of weapons and a panoply of tactical gear. Among the findings: body armor, smoke grenades, gun belts, silencers, a camouflage suit and about 3,000 rounds of ammunition. They also found firearms, including at least one rifle and multiple shotguns, according to court documents.”

 

They also found a hit list. Moskowitz was on it. So were “bar mitzvah halls,” a Jewish cemetery, a “Jewish sub shop,” a synagogue, and other targets. The last item on the list said, simply: “stalk Jewish parks.”

 

Unlike as in other cases of political violence, the suspect here wasn’t “known to authorities”—code for a human ticking time bomb. Instead, Lipinski “was a complete ghost,” Moskowitz said. “And that was the scary part for myself and my family, is to one day get a call out of the blue, randomly, from the Margate Police Department.”

 

The guy had no beef with Moskowitz other than Moskowitz’s being Jewish. The congressman is also outspoken against anti-Semitism and anti-Zionism. It made him a target.

 

Among the important implications of this story is how such incidents change the behavior of people who are made to feel hunted. Police are stationed outside the home Moskowitz shares with his wife and children. He won’t appear in parades or staged outdoor events. He is accompanied by private security and his indoor events feature metal detectors.

 

Prosecutors believe Lipinski also fired into a local Jewish woman’s house and car at night a few months before his arrest. A bullet is still apparently lodged in the wall mere feet from where her husband sleeps. She, too, has kids in the house. That attack had the same effect on the woman. “She didn’t like to leave the house alone anymore and, outside of certain major holidays, loud noises at night could send her into a mini panic attack.”

 

The recent uptick in political assassination attempts does not discriminate by party nor has it been limited to Jewish figures. There was the nearly successful attempt on President Trump’s life at a campaign rally in Pennsylvania, the attempt to burn down Gov. Josh Shapiro’s home with his family inside it, the execution of Minnesota statehouse speaker Melissa Hortman and her husband, the assassination of Charlie Kirk.

 

Still, coming amid an explosion in anti-Semitic violence with part of a political movement calling for a “global Intifada,” and given Moskowitz’s Jewishness and outspokenness on anti-Semitism, there are a couple points to make.

 

The first is that it isn’t censorship to criticize the hate preachers becoming increasingly popular in the modern political landscape. The Tucker Carlsons and Hasan Pikers of America have done much to normalize and popularize dangerous rhetoric, and the politicians who embrace them are insulating them from the norms that might otherwise cause society to shun them, as any healthy society would.

 

As it happens, in today’s Wall Street Journal, Third Way officials Jonathan Cowan and Lily Cohen have an excellent piece hammering Democrats for their embrace of Piker and their unwillingness, more broadly, to do what Ted Cruz and Tom Cotton did recently: publicly excoriate their own party and political movement for its tolerance of anti-Semitism.

 

The seeds for Cowan and Cohen’s column were sown last week when Cohen posted a tweet with a similar message. Cohen named Piker, Maine Senate candidate Graham Platner, and New York Mayor Zohran Mamdani as prominent leftward figures staining the Democratic Party with anti-Semitism. In response, Ro Khanna, a popular progressive member of Congress and likely 2028 presidential candidate, dismissed Cohen on X: “I am proud to stand with @grahamformaine @ZohranKMamdani & join @hasanthehun feed,” he posted.

 

Khanna is a big part of the problem facing our politics today, and he is clearly just getting started. It is a mark of our current political crisis that Khanna is so proud of his role boosting anti-Semites as violence continues to rise.

 

And the second point is closely related: Moskowitz puts himself in danger for calling out anti-Semitism. Where are all the other Democrats? Shouldn’t they have his back? Anti-Semites and so-called anti-Zionists have been trying to assassinate the party’s prominent Jews. Major Democratic officeholders ought to be scrambling to make a public address about the violent Jew-hatred in their party and the politicians supporting it. It does not let Republicans off the hook just because of what Cruz and Cotton have done, but it does highlight just how isolated Democrats have let folks like Moskowitz become. That needs to end now.

Happy Chemtrails

By Guy Denton

Thursday, March 19, 2026

 

A sinister plot is unfolding in America’s skies. Just ask Dane Wigington, a self-professed expert on climate science. In an interview with former Fox News host turned “truth-teller” Tucker Carlson last November, Wigington declared that the U.S. government is secretly dispersing poisonous “aluminum nanoparticles” from airplanes, “dismantling the planet’s primary life support systems,” and manipulating weather events such as hurricanes and blizzards. In short, a syndicate of shadowy figures is plotting our national destruction.

 

But how, you might ask, have these nefarious activities not been widely exposed? By Wigington’s account, it’s obvious: Meteorologists won’t speak out for fear of losing their “paychecks and pensions,” organizations such as the World Wildlife Fund and Greenpeace are similarly afraid of sacrificing their nonprofit status, and the entire military is involved in the project under the direction of the Department of Defense.

 

Anyone who has ever stumbled across the more paranoid precincts of the internet has likely heard these claims before. The chemtrails conspiracy theory — which, broadly speaking, posits that toxic chemicals are regularly being released from American aircraft — has existed online in various forms since the 1990s. Recently, however, it has experienced a resurgence in popularity, including on the right. As belief in chemtrails grows within the Republican Party, it’s important for conservatives to consider how we can prevent people from being enthralled.

 

Carlson’s interview with Wigington racked up millions of views across YouTube and other social media platforms. “US Government Admits Chemtrails Are Real,” the title declared. “(It’s Worse Than You Think).” If you don’t recall the government making this confession, that’s because it never did. But that hasn’t stopped the idea of chemtrails from infiltrating mainstream political discourse.

 

Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr., for instance, has accused DARPA, a DOD research lab, of spraying noxious elements into the sky. “I’m going to do everything in my power to stop it,” he told an audience last year during an interview with Dr. Phil. Marjorie Taylor Greene, meanwhile, repeatedly invoked the theory before her resignation from Congress. In a post on X last July, she claimed that a cabalistic “they” have admitted to “controlling the weather and spraying chemicals in our skies.” The following month, South Carolina Representative Nancy Mace (R.) — who is currently running for governor — proclaimed that if elected, she will “support any action” to “ban chemtrails.” Even among the public, belief is strong. One 2017 study from Harvard’s Dustin Tingley and Gernot Wagner, published in Nature, found that roughly 10 percent of Americans believe in the chemtrails theory “completely,” while a further 20–30 percent view it as “somewhat true.”

 

Reality, however, is far less akin to an episode of The X-Files than the chemtrail cadre might think. The trails that planes often leave behind are simply a result of condensation that occurs when water vapor from jet exhaust freezes in the cold atmosphere. They even have a name that reflects their actual source: contrails.

 

“Contrails first became commented on during the Second World War because of exhaust trails from high-flying fighters and bombers,” Ron Smith, a fellow of Britain’s Royal Aeronautical Society, told me. “With the growth of air travel, there are more jet airliners than there were, so there are more contrails.”

 

Depending on atmospheric conditions, contrails can linger for minutes or hours at a time. Occasionally, they will form in unusual patterns, or gaps will appear within them. Conspiracy theorists, Smith said, will often attribute these peculiarities to “pilots switching their chemtrail systems on and off.” But “local variations in humidity and temperature . . . on the aircraft flight path” are the real cause.

 

Yet if the science behind contrails is so simple, why are so many people drawn to a fantastical explanation? To understand the appeal of the chemtrails theory, it’s worth considering why conspiracy theories are attractive in general. Fundamentally, human beings feel a need to understand. They crave straightforward explanations for events or phenomena that are beyond their frame of reference, but those easy answers aren’t always forthcoming. When we encounter things that are unfamiliar, our preconceptions about the world will often lead us to certain conclusions. In an era defined by social media — when falsehoods are rampant, algorithms provide an endless buffet of conspiracy content, and the like-minded can connect with one another on an unprecedented scale — it has never been easier for conspiracy theories to gain currency.

 

Dave Thomas, an adjunct professor at New Mexico Tech known for debunking chemtrails and other conspiracy theories, told me that before the internet, conspiracy theorists largely worked in isolation and tried to promote their ideas by sending “dense, multipage” letters to “a few selected reporters or scientists.” Today, “the internet has spawned numerous discussion groups that have evolved into ‘echo chambers’ for all sorts of conspiracy theories. In such groups, members feel like they are insiders, helping the few brave pioneers who have discerned the only real path to the Truth.”

 

The popularity of the chemtrails theory, in particular, is a creature of our online world. When it first emerged in the 1990s, message boards and mailing lists had made it possible for conspiracists to reach vast audiences with a few keystrokes.

 

“People started posting theories about military jet fuel being toxic,” said Mick West, a science writer and expert on conspiracy theories. “And as evidence of that, they pointed to the fact that planes sometimes leave long trails that sometimes spread out and cover the sky. That’s how it started.”

 

West noted that chemtrail theory was “very much an underground thing for a long time,” although it was occasionally acknowledged in local newspapers and radio stations. Fringe writers such as William Thomas and Michael J. Murphy attempted to promote it in books, speeches, and media appearances, but they received little commercial attention. Now, however, West believes that the theory is “making a little bit of a transition into the mainstream,” thanks in large part to figures such as Carlson and Kennedy.

 

Belief in chemtrails can take a surprising variety of forms. Some advocates of the theory think that the government is experimenting with mind control. Others are convinced that it’s an elaborate plot to control population growth. Even within the chemtrails community, there are those who seek to enforce certain standards of sanity. Amy Bruckman, a professor at the Georgia Institute of Technology who co-authored a 2022 study of chemtrail believers, discovered as much when she interviewed the founder of an online chemtrails discussion group.

 

“He told us that his forum had rules,” Bruckman told me. “It was okay to say, ‘Chemtrails are being sprayed for deliberate depopulation.’ But it’s not okay to say, ‘Chemtrails are sprayed for deliberate depopulation because aliens are coming.’ He said, ‘This is a science-based group, and we don’t allow crazy stuff on our forum.’”

 

Whether the more prominent supporters of the chemtrails theory — such as Carlson, Kennedy, and Alex Jones, the founder of the conspiracy theory website Infowars — genuinely believe in it is a complicated question. In West’s judgment, most of them are driven equally by sincerity and self-interest.

 

“If you have a worldview that is a certain way — you feel like there’s this deep conspiracy in the world — then it’s very easy for you to believe certain things,” he said. “I think there’s a degree of that with Tucker Carlson. Even people like Alex Jones, they don’t believe half the stuff they say. A lot of it is for effect. But they do believe the other half.”

 

Unlike UFOs, UAPs, or lizard people, contrails are observable in everyday life, and this visibility helps make the chemtrails theory appealing. For those who don’t understand the cause of contrails, their presence can seem bizarre or alarming, particularly in a post-Covid world where trust in government and the scientific establishment has eroded. Yet the science behind contrails is easy to grasp, and common objections from conspiracy theorists are similarly easy to disprove.

 

A popular notion, for instance, is that contrails did not begin to appear until the 1990s. But an abundance of evidence from photographs, movies, and television shows proves otherwise. Thomas, the New Mexico Tech professor, points to the World War II documentary The Memphis Belle: A Story of a Flying Fortress (1944) — in which “long and long-lasting trails are shown, along with gaps in the contrails” — as a notable example.

 

In recent years, Wigington and other chemtrail advocates have made geoengineering — the idea that technology can be used to modify the atmosphere and reverse climate change — central to their theories. Wigington believes that geoengineering is merely a disguise for the deployment of chemtrails, and this idea has caught on in local politics. In 2024, Tennessee’s state legislature passed a bill designed to ban geoengineering, and several of the bill’s supporters seemed to reference the idea of chemtrails in their public remarks. Similar legislation has been considered in states such as Arizona, Louisiana, and Iowa.

 

But at present, large-scale geoengineering is entirely theoretical. David Keith, a geophysics professor at the University of Chicago, supports a proposed form of solar geoengineering that would lower the Earth’s temperature by reflecting greater amounts of sunlight back into space. “There’s no question it’s doable,” he said. “But the point is, it’s not actually happening.” Chemtrail believers will often emphasize that the number of applications and approvals for geoengineering patents has increased in recent years. “These patents are real, but you can patent anything,” Keith said. “That doesn’t mean that anybody’s executing the patents.”

 

The most blatant problem with the chemtrails theory is that it presumes that the perpetrators are almost supernaturally competent. It would take an extraordinary amount of planning and coordination to not only execute such a scheme but keep it secret for decades. Even in small groups, human beings are dysfunctional. For the chemtrails theory to be viable, thousands of people at every level of the government and aviation industry would need to be involved. And all of them — from the malevolent politicians orchestrating everything, to the crew of each flight, to the workers manufacturing the chemicals, manning the loading docks, and managing the supply chains — would need to willingly participate in harming the public without ever once speaking out or being detected by an independent party. If only airlines could use that same mastery of organization to make every flight arrive on time.

 

“I think governments can do a good job of keeping operational secrets on a short time,” Keith, the geophysicist, said. “So like, the mission to capture Osama Bin Laden, when you’re just talking a small SEAL team, you can keep the secret of where you’re going.” Of course, governments have lied to the public in the past. “But I think what they don’t do is sustained lies that involve huge numbers of people. There’s no precedent for it. And even less when there’s no justification.”

 

Even so, many chemtrail believers remain wedded to the theory, and helping people who have fallen down the rabbit hole find a way out is no easy task. One potential tactic, said Bruckman, the Georgia Tech professor, is for “recovering believers” to perform outreach: “Look, I was there too. Let me tell you how I learned that I was confused.”

 

Another method, according to West, is to steadily provide people with clear information that disproves the theory — for instance, by demonstrating that the ballast tanks used in certain planes contain water rather than chemicals. Still, West said, “these things take a long time. You can’t just show them stuff and have it immediately work.”

 

Most of the experts who spoke to me suggested that the answer lies in harnessing the internet to guide people to the truth rather than to fantasy. For instance, the algorithms that often feed conspiracy content to social media users are “adjustable,” Keith said. He cites Wikipedia as an example of an algorithm that seeks to promote evidence and reliable sources, while the Facebook algorithm often amplifies misleading or inflammatory content. “I think you could imagine an algorithm that, in different ways, ties people together and does try to anchor closer to reality.” Who would decide what it actually means to anchor the public to reality, however, remains an open question.

 

Bruckman, meanwhile, recognizes a singular solution: metadata. She contends that as artificial intelligence grows more sophisticated, it will soon be impossible to distinguish real videos from those generated by AI, and canards will flourish. But if every video on social media were labeled with certain details, “people could make informed choices about what to believe and what not to believe,” Bruckman said. Such details could include: “By the way, this is AI. By the way, this has been disproven; here’s the data if you want to see it.” (The Community Notes tool on X, which allows users to fact-check deceptive posts, is one example of how such a guardrail could be implemented without infringing on users’ rights.)

 

Despite the potential of technological innovation and stronger online guardrails, the conspiratorial instinct will remain ingrained in human nature. “I think a lot of the debunking stuff that gets done deteriorates over time,” West said. “There’s some chemtrail explanation sites that just don’t exist anymore. It’s a never-ending battle because you get people who weren’t even born when I started investigating chemtrails, who are now believing in chemtrails.”

 

It seems some of us are destined to keep watching the skies.

Telling the Truth About China’s Rise

By Brian Stewart

Sunday, March 22, 2026

 

It is hardly a great secret that contemporary Western scholarship on China leaves much to be desired. Recent interest in the Middle Kingdom has seldom generated historical inquiries that draw heavily from primary sources or inform readers about what is not already well known about the founding of the People’s Republic. Most accounts disclose a tendency to recycle well-worn narratives, producing a literature that, however expansive, feels stale and incomplete.

 

One of the rare exceptions comes courtesy of Frank Dikötter, a fellow at the Hoover Institution and a professor of humanities at the University of Hong Kong. In his new Red Dawn over China: How Communism Conquered a Quarter of Humanity, Dikötter brings new material to light and furnishes a corrective to several reigning myths about China’s rise. It is a work of startling originality that demands a wide readership.

 

The subject is hardly new to Dikötter. After writing a gripping “people’s trilogy” of the Chinese Revolution in the 2010s, he published China After Mao in 2022, which argued that the genuine architect of China’s economic miracle was not Deng Xiaoping — the celebrated leader from 1978 to 1989, who first opened the Chinese system to the global market — but rather Jiang Zemin, president from 1993 to 2003. Jiang’s crowning achievement, wrote Dikötter, was China’s entry into the World Trade Organization in 2001, without which Beijing’s model of state capitalism would never have flourished.

 

In Red Dawn over China, Dikötter takes evident pleasure in puncturing what he calls the fairy tale embedded in the Chinese Communist Party’s narrative of its ascent to power: the story of a communist David, personified by Mao Zedong, versus a nationalist Goliath, the Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek. Perhaps never has this canonical version of the party’s history been so thoroughly debunked as it is in these pages.

 

Dikötter portrays the Maoist fable as a straightforward morality tale. It begins with the triumph in 1949 of the Chinese Communist Party, established in 1921 under the tutelage of Russia’s Bolsheviks. In the official account, a potent correlation of forces, foreign and domestic, was holding China back. Against this “unholy alliance of ‘imperialist powers’ and ‘reactionary forces,’” the story goes, the communists mobilized the peasants by taking the land from the rich and distributing it to the poor, before gradually uniting the people “in their fight against the Japanese invader and the fascist Nationalist Party.” In the end, “nobody remains standing except Mao, armed with ideological conviction.” The CCP “liberates” the country and brings an ignoble chapter of Chinese history to a dramatic close.

 

This theme of abject humiliation followed by unprecedented triumph is in keeping with Mao’s “historical vision,” Dikötter tells us, but it hits a snag: It isn’t true. Mao’s global reputation as a leader after 1949 has suffered grievously on account of the millions of his countrymen whom he and his revolutionaries consigned to shallow graves. But Dikötter insists that the moral rot began much earlier, when Mao was presumed by contemporaries and even many modern historians to have been a youthful idealist who proposed an ambitious model for a progressive society.

 

Studying more than 300 volumes of original party documents dating from 1923 to 1949 — published by China’s Central Party Archives in the ’80s — Dikötter uncovers “how marginal the Communist Party was in the history of China” between its inception and the end of World War II. This collection of data represents “an unparalleled foundation” for experts as well as lay students of the history of the Communist Party, however at odds it may be with official CCP script. Dikötter burnishes these findings by digging into the archives of the Nationalist Party in Taiwan, as well as the holdings of the Comintern on China that were made available after the fall of the Soviet Union.

 

Dikötter’s comprehensive research has uncovered that, prior to World War II, “almost every European country, with the exception of Nazi Germany, boasted a larger number of Communists as a proportion of their overall population than any province in China.” Party membership across the country was beyond paltry. To pluck one example, in Wuxi, an industrial city with 100,000 workers, west of Shanghai, the party had only 25 members in 1929. The picture was not much brighter in poorer provinces that might be expected to have been more receptive to the communist creed. In the dilapidated province of Gansu (population 6.7 million) in 1939, the party claimed a mere 264 adherents.

 

Because of these puny tallies, local communists ended up doctoring their membership logs to maintain the flow of support from domestic central authorities and, far behind them, the Kremlin. Party documents show that membership statistics were deliberately inflated to garner resources — a habit that may justify some doubt about the reliability of Chinese economic and military figures today. In sum, before 1940, no more than 1 in 1,700 Chinese was a communist, a rate roughly equivalent to communist membership in the U.S. — “a country not generally considered a leader in the world Communist movement.”

 

Under the weight of this data, it becomes hard to escape the conclusion that the communists took power not through a confluence of social forces or through mass ideological conversion but rather through violent subjugation. Dikötter attributes their sweeping success above all to the Red Tsar, Joseph Stalin, who armed and funded them and, on the heels of the Japanese surrender in late summer 1945, dispatched a million-strong army to Manchuria to shore up his beleaguered ideological brethren. This contingent of Soviet troops stayed long enough to stymie “the central government of Chiang Kai-shek, quietly handing over the countryside to the Communists and helping Mao transform his guerrilla fighters into a formidable fighting machine.” The feat of conquering a vast country was accomplished by the most sordid and unscrupulous methods. Under the command of Mao, Lin Biao, and other communist generals, the party “left a trail of destruction, surviving on loot and ransom as they laid siege to towns, burning government buildings, killing so-called ‘class enemies,’ seizing their property and distributing it to the troops.”

 

Word of the party’s depredations spread across the countryside. Soon, vast numbers of Chinese took flight to escape the communists’ barbarity and terror. “Despite all the widely advertised merits of the Chinese Communist Party,” says Dikötter, “nowhere during the civil war did anyone ever witness people fleeing a region controlled by the [Nationalist] government towards the Communists.” The human train of refugees — a symbol of Cold War communist conquest, from Berlin to Korea and from Cuba to Vietnam — went almost exclusively in one direction.

 

The brutality and brigandage of Mao’s enterprise knew no limit. In every village the communists seized, the population was divided and either conscripted or punished. The villagers were swiftly separated into landlords, rich peasants, middling peasants, and poor peasants and laborers, after which they were instructed to “turn hardship into hatred.” And so the poor dispossessed, beat, and killed the notionally rich. The fact that almost all of these victims were, by any Western standard, abjectly impoverished themselves did not save them.

 

Most readers of National Review will already be aware of the depressingly counterproductive role played by the stewards of American power during the Chinese communists’ rise. In December 1945, President Harry Truman dispatched General George C. Marshall to China for the purpose of ending the civil war there and forging a coalition government. “Despite all evidence to the contrary, Marshall still believed,” in Dikötter’s words, that the communists “were not doctrinaire ideologists, but merely rural reformers who could help shape a democratic China.” After garnering resentment for speaking “like a colonial governor” while forcing Chiang’s forces to reach a truce with the communists, Marshall successfully brokered a cease-fire in January 1946. Meant to last only a fortnight, it “became a four-month truce that changed the course of the civil war.” The cease-fire gave the exhausted communists time to regroup and rearm. Meanwhile, they expanded their reach into Manchuria, courtesy of Moscow’s largesse. In September 1946, Truman imposed an arms embargo on the Nationalists, and their flight to Taiwan was a fait accompli.

 

The myth of a glorious peasant uprising received invaluable assistance, writes Dikötter, from pliant foreign correspondents who acted more as stenographers than journalists, entirely willing to carry water for the communists. One such naïve sycophant was Edgar Snow, born in Kansas City, Mo., who had been selected by Mao’s forces “after careful vetting.” In June 1936, at the conclusion of the Long March — by which the communists had relocated to northwest China — a young Snow arrived in the province of Shaanxi to interview Mao. Communist propagandists recorded their encounter in meticulous detail. The result was a lavish spread of interviews published in the China Weekly Review in November 1936. But it was Snow’s groundbreaking book Red Star over China, published the next year, that “made Mao into a household name and became the basis for all subsequent accounts of the rise of the Communist Party, and by implication of the history of modern China.”

 

Indebted to Snow for its title, Red Dawn over China is a brilliant history of the consolidation of communist power and of the staggeringly high cost that this “liberation” has imposed on the Chinese people ever since. Dikötter shows the extent of the lie on which the communist regime is founded, and it demonstrates that the CCP remains vulnerable to the corruption that brought so many of its predecessors to ruin and defeat.

‘Victory Through Air Power’ Put to the Test in Iran

By James H. McGee

Sunday, March 22, 2026

 

Giulio Douhet, a now almost forgotten Italian army general, once reigned as the foremost theorist of what came to be called “victory through air power.” Others, notably our own Colonel Billy Mitchell, would gain notoriety as proponents of the primacy of aerial bombardment as the decisive element in modern warfare, but Douhet’s 1921 treatise Il dominio dell’aria, or The Command of the Air, exerted an outsized influence on air power advocates throughout the first half of the 20th century, and it continues to be debated today.

 

Writing in the aftermath of WWI, at a time when the ability of an air force to deliver explosive ordnance was measured in dozens rather than thousands of tons, Douhet looked beyond the limitations of existing aircraft to a time when fleets of heavy bombers could fill the sky. He postulated that these waves of bombers would overwhelm any defenses — he was contemptuous of the entire concept of air defense.

 

Critically, Douhet also asserted that the weight of aerial bombardment, exerted not just on military targets but also industrial and population centers, would be so crushing that the recipient would be driven to unconditional surrender. This was the crux of his theory and its most influential element. In the 1930s, the air force generals of every developed nation took up this proposition. In the U.S., Britain, and France, they argued that resources diverted from the design and production of heavy bombers were resources largely wasted. Germany, too, accepted Douhet’s theories.

 

Hitler’s Luftwaffe became the first to implement Douhet’s theories. The bombing of Guernica by the German Condor Legion during the Spanish Civil War famously demonstrated the meaning of terror bombing à la Douhet, a meaning further displayed over Warsaw, Rotterdam, and Coventry, above all during the London Blitz. But soon, the Germans would find themselves on the receiving end of the combined might of the Royal Air Force and the U.S. Army Air Force, led by generals fully committed to Douhet’s vision and certain that they possessed the means to make it happen.

 

In the end, they would be disappointed. While the strategic air campaign made a significant contribution to victory by substantially diverting German resources to air defense, claims that strategic bombing would carry the day proved false. It took the convergence of the Red Army from the east and the British and American armies from the west to see an end to Nazism.

 

Much the same might be said of the B-29 bombing campaign against Japan. Even after the firebombing of Tokyo and other Japanese industrial cities, the Japanese remained adamantly unwilling to surrender. They also remained ready to inflict massive casualties on any Allied invading force, bloodshed many times greater than the famously sanguinary battles of Iwo Jima and Okinawa. The oversell of strategic air power, confirmed by the several postwar bombing surveys, would haunt conventional air power advocates for decades to come, while strategic bombing went down the almost entirely separate nuclear path.

 

So here we are, a century after Douhet, once again embarked on an effort to achieve victory through air power. For generations, U.S. presidents and our European allies have contented themselves with half measures when it comes to the threat from Iran, pursuing one comforting delusion after another, never willing to face the self-evident fact that, ultimately, Tehran’s millenarian fanatics would achieve a nuclear capability. Repeatedly, world leaders have insisted that this must not be allowed, not least every American president since 1979.

 

We’ve deluded ourselves for one simple reason: the belief that nothing short of the dreaded “boots on the ground” could accomplish the task of defanging the mullahs. Certainly, no one believed that this could be achieved by air power alone, not against a large nation amply provided with the best air defense capabilities Russia and China can provide.

 

Then a door opened, partly because of the massive anti-government demonstrations at the end of 2025, partly because the Twelve-Day War and the successful bombing of Iran’s nuclear facilities suggested that an air campaign might be possible. Possible because with air supremacy and the relentless application of “death from above,” the regime might be broken, deprived of its ability to defend itself, unable to prevent the popular will from taking Iran in a new direction. Possible because finally, long after Douhet, or Billy Mitchell, or the RAF’s “Bomber” Harris, we possess the precision technical means to destroy military forces, even a regime’s leadership, without meting out indiscriminate destruction and mass casualties. No firestorms, no Hamburgs or Dresdens; finally, a new way of waging war.

 

We’re now in the process of finding out if something akin to Douhet’s air power vision can be accomplished. What we’re witnessing is an old strategic ambition wedded to hitherto unimagined combat air power. The next several weeks will tell us if this ambition can finally be fulfilled.

Saturday, March 21, 2026

The Iran War Is What Trumpism Looks Like

By Jonah Goldberg

Friday, March 20, 2026

 

Okay, I have very little time today. I’m in Baton Rouge for a talk and then have to race to the airport. So I am relying on Bill Buckley’s advice: When you don’t know what to write about, write about something that annoys you.

 

Now, after decades of doing this, I’ve added a few corollaries to this rule. Annoyance is a great muse, but so are other less-than-wholly-virtuous emotions, like schadenfreude.

 

And it is with a mixture of schadenfreude and annoyance I come to the issue of Donald Trump’s supposed betrayal of MAGA by launching a war against Iran.

 

But let’s start from the beginning. 

 

“Meet the Harvard whiz kid who wants to explain Trumpism.”

 

That was the headline for a 2017 profile of Julius Krein written by my friend Eliana Johnson for Politico. It began: “A 30-year-old conservative wunderkind is out to intellectualize Trumpism, the amorphous ideology that lifted its namesake to the presidency in November.”

 

In pursuit of the effort to create an ideologically serious thing called “Trumpism,” Krein was launching the journal American Affairs. Given what I thought then—and now—about Trump, Trumpslaining, and other forms of Trump apologia, it would be reasonable to assume that I heaped scorn on Krein’s project. I didn’t. I welcomed it. But as I told Eliana for her reporting, he had his work cut out for him:

 

“It will take a good deal of time for even Trump’s most gifted apologists to craft an intellectually or ideologically coherent theme or narrative to his program,” said Jonah Goldberg, a senior editor of National Review. “Trump boasts that he wants to be unpredictable and insists that he will make all decisions on a case-by-case basis. That’s a hard approach for an intellectual journal to defend in every particular.”

 

I’ve been making versions of this argument for a decade. Trump has no “ideology.” He does have a few ideas. Off the top of my head: take the oil, tariffs are economic Viagra, strength good, never apologize, women won’t resist celebrities when they grab them by their privates, “good genes” matter a lot, allies are whiny bitches, a bunch of romantic convictions about the supremacy of his instincts, and some Norman Vincent Peale-inspired nonsense about willing the reality you want into existence.

 

Taken together, these ideas, gut impulses, sentiments, and irritable mental gestures do not amount to an ideology. They could be the foundation of an ideology. But constructing an actual ideology requires thinking about how your various commitments might conflict, where the trade-offs are, what the edge cases might be, etc. That’s why I’ve been writing, over and over again, that Trumpism isn’t an ideology, it’s a psychology. When he attacks critics or even loyalists who defy him, it’s almost never because of the arguments or reasons offered by the critics and defiers. It is the mere fact that they don’t defer to him. If you say “no” to something he really wants, it’s because you must “hate Trump.”

 

But Trumpism is not just about Trump’s psychology, it’s the psychology of many of his supporters. If Trump is for it, it must be right.

 

Ron DeSantis’ 2024 presidential campaign conducted focus groups to ask Republican voters about issues like COVID lockdowns. Seventy percent of participants said they opposed them. But then, when they were asked about Trump’s COVID lockdowns, 70 percent supported them. Simply “attaching Trump’s name to an otherwise effective message had a tendency to invert the results.”

 

What is true of random voters in poorly lit hotel conference rooms is also true of a great many pundits, politicians, economists, and intellectuals. The motives may be more cynical and mercenary, but the effect is the same.

 

If you could do a comprehensive search of every form of media and interaction, I bet you’d find I have been accused of “Trump Derangement Syndrome” more than a million times. If you want to understand my occasional political dyspepsia, please consider that the vast majority of people who level that charge at me are people who literally change what they believe (or say they believe) based on whether Trump believes it—at any given moment.

 

Seriously, think about that. Trump changes his positions constantly, and hordes of his supposedly principled intellectual defenders change their positions with him—and I’m supposed to be the deranged one for not doing likewise? When the Trumpists said that merely carrying a legal weapon was proof of criminal—even terroristic—intent, how many longtime, dogmatic, Second Amendment boosters aped the talking points?

 

I have some grace for normal voters when it comes to this kind of thing. Most Americans aren’t politicians, ideologues, or intellectuals. They trust Trump—foolishly, I think—but often understandably. But it’s difficult for me to hide my contempt for self-styled intellectuals and ideologues who routinely jettison their convictions based on what Trump does or says on any given day. If you thought Bill Clinton’s sybaritic and priapistic tendencies were appalling but simply laugh off objections to Trump’s even more sordid behavior, you don’t have a principled objection to adultery. You have a “principled” objection to objecting to immoral behavior by politicians you like. That is the single unspoken standard behind every double-standard regarding Trump and his most committed opponents. They are making Trump the standard for their views.

 

Swap out sexual licentiousness for industrial policy, protectionism, corruption, mental incoherence, arrogance, and replace Clinton with Joe Biden or Barack Obama and the argument doesn’t change.

 

Oh, and now you can add to that list “Middle East wars.”

 

Which brings me to the revolt of some Trump “intellectuals” over the Iran war. Tucker Carlson, Sohrab Ahmari, Christopher Caldwell, Mollie Hemingway, and numerous others are stunned, shocked, appalled by Trump’s “betrayal” of MAGA. And it’s schadenfreudtastically hilarious.

 

It pains me to include Caldwell in that list, because there are few writers and intellectuals I have respected more over the last 30 years, regardless of my disagreements with him. Caldwell is probably best in class of a group of intellectuals who have tried to argue for a serious intellectual consistency to Trumpism.

 

He has declared the Iran war “The End of Trumpism.” He writes:

 

Contrary to its portrayal in the newspapers, Trumpism was a movement of democratic restoration. At its center was the idea of the deep state. In recent decades, selective universities created a credentialocracy, civil-rights law endowed it with a system of ideological enforcement, the tax code entrenched a class of would-be philosopher-kings in the nonprofit sector, and civil-service protections armed government bureaucrats to fight back against any effort at democratic reform.

 

There is more wisdom in this than some knee-jerk Trump-haters will allow for. That wisdom accounts for a large portion of why I have grace for generic Trump voters. It’s also why I said they were foolish for putting their faith in Trump. Because the high-minded versions of Trumpism were always ridiculous when applied to Trump himself.

 

Let’s give Trump the maximum benefit of the doubt and assume he saw what Caldwell sees about how America got off course. The guy who took a plane from Qatar never held this “democratic restoration” of American government as his goal. The guy who is turning the Department of Justice into a score-settling and self-aggrandizement machine and who sees personal loyalty as the only non-negotiable criterion for government employment didn’t care about “The Deep State” as a threat to democratic government.

 

And, just to check the box, the guy who tried to steal an election doesn’t care about actual nuts-and-bolts democracy. Caldwell has talked himself into a strange corner. He sees Trump as a paladin for the informal, atmospheric, poetic, abstract concept of “democracy” while yada-yadaing over the slap-to-the-face reality that Trump has nothing but contempt for the formal, non-poetic, practice of actual democracy.

 

Simply put, Trump got into politics for himself. To the extent Trump saw and understood the zeitgeist that Caldwell identifies, he considered it an opportunity, not a cause.

 

The idea that Trump’s war on Iran is a betrayal of “True Trumpism” is the last gasp of people who told themselves that Trumpism was an ideology. And it’s embarrassing.

 

I don’t agree with Trump on much, but he is incandescently, blazingly, irrefutably correct when he says “I think that MAGA is Trump.” Or as he told The Atlantic, “Well, considering that I’m the one that developed ‘America First,’ and considering that the term wasn’t used until I came along, I think I’m the one that decides that.”

 

Now, just to be clear, Trump did not invent the term “America First.” Because he doesn’t know anything about American history, he didn’t know what “America First” meant until a reporter used the phrase with him in an interview.

 

But on his larger point, Trump is right. Whether you call it MAGA or America First or Trumpism, he determines what it is. And that has been true from the beginning. If you sincerely thought otherwise, the joke is on you.

 

Now, ascribing sincerity to Trump’s intellectual defenders is not a concession I am willing to grant wholesale. I think some intellectuals, Caldwell among them, came to their positions in good faith (you can tell from his “End of Trumpism” piece that he saw Trump the man with fairly clear eyes). But Tucker Carlson and many of the others were always liars. They knew the beast they were hitching themselves to. For instance, Carlson once texted a friend “I hate [Trump] passionately” but publicly insisted “I love Trump.”

 

One reason I find this moment so deliciously hilarious is that some of the people turning on him are discovering that I was right all along. They were fine with all of the terrible, ugly, cruel, and stupid things Trump did so long as they thought Trumpism meant what they wanted it to mean. It’s like they cheered Godzilla smashing one building or another, crafting ornate theories for why he crushed that school or why he melted that radio tower. But when Godzilla turns his gaze toward something they love, they shout “Betrayal!”

 

Others knew all along what Godzilla was all about, but they benefited from pretending otherwise for money, fame, or influence. Or they reasoned that after Godzilla retreated to the sea to go live on Mar-a-Monster Island, they would be able to rule the rubble he left behind.

 

Regardless, the war on Iran isn’t a betrayal of Trumpism, this is Trumpism on full display.

 

That people are calling it a betrayal is what economists call a “revealed preference.” Godzilla smashing things is wise, defensible, and worthy of celebrating. But smashing things allegedly in service to Israel is an outrage.

 

As I wrote earlier this week, there are many defensible arguments against this war and for it. I do not believe America is doing it for Israel. Yes, it benefits Israel. And haters of Israel, like haters of Jews (not necessarily the same thing), tend to operate from a conspiratorial—cui bono?—theory of causation. If Israel benefits from something—or can even be perceived as benefiting—then Israel must be the author of it. That’s the gist of Joe Kent’s preposterous, ahistorical, and delusional letter of resignation from the National Counterterrorism Center. None of these people resigned or denounced Trump because of Trump’s tariffs, or his seizure of Nicolás Maduro, January 6, or any of the other ridiculous or heinous things Trump has done. They defended it. They polished the turds until they could see their own reflection in them. But helping the jooos? Stop the Trump train. I want to get off.

 

The invasion of Iran reveals nothing new about Trump or Trumpism. The reaction to it reveals a great deal about a lot of people.

Al Gore’s False Prophecy

By Bjorn Lomborg

Thursday, March 19, 2026

 

Two decades have passed since Al Gore’s movie An Inconvenient Truth hit theaters, in May 2006, catapulting climate change into the global spotlight. The film, with its dramatic visuals and dire warnings, transformed the issue from a niche ecological concern into a front-page crisis. World leaders in rich countries began labeling it an “existential threat,” and it dominated international agendas. Gore’s message especially resonated with the elites who travel by private jet to attend global conferences, and it inspired a generation of influencers, activists, and policymakers.

 

As we approach the film’s 20th anniversary, it’s a time to reflect on not just its impact but its accuracy. The film’s predictions of escalating catastrophes have largely failed to materialize, its policy prescriptions have fallen short, and the $16 trillion currently spent in pursuit of its vision has delivered scant benefits. An Inconvenient Truth encapsulates the past two decades of climate debate: heavy on emotion and costs, light on evidence and benefits.

 

***

 

Let’s start with the film’s core narrative: that climate change is driving ever-worsening disasters. Gore painted a picture of a world besieged by floods, droughts, storms, and wildfires, with humanity on the brink.

 

The data tell a different story. Over the past century, as the global population quadrupled, deaths from climate-related disasters have plummeted. In the 1920s, an average of nearly half a million people died annually from such events. Today, that number is under 10,000 — a decline of more than 97 percent. This isn’t because disasters have vanished. It’s because wealthier, more resilient societies have adapted through better infrastructure, early warnings, and disaster management. Richer, smarter societies have made us dramatically safer, proving that adaptation and resilience work far better than alarmists suggest.

 

Gore’s movie famously warned of vanishing polar bears, using poignant computer-generated images to suggest they were drowning because of melting ice. Again, reality is starkly different: Polar bear populations have increased from around 12,000 in the 1960s to more than 26,000 today, according to the best available evidence, including from the Polar Bear Specialist Group under the International Union for Conservation of Nature. The primary historical threat was overhunting, not climate change. While future warming poses risks, the apocalyptic narrative is undermined by the data.

 

Hurricanes were another bogeyman. The film notably claimed that we would see more frequent and stronger storms; its poster cunningly showed a hurricane coming out of a smokestack. But global data from satellites actually show a slight decline in hurricane frequency since 1980. While Al Gore blamed Hurricane Katrina on climate change, just one year later, the U.S. began an unprecedentedly long streak of eleven years without major hurricane landfall. Indeed, the longest reliable data series for landfalling hurricanes in the U.S. has shown a decline since the year 1900, and major hurricanes are about as frequent as they were in the past. When adjusted for more people and more houses, the damages from U.S. hurricanes have declined, not increased.

 

Wildfires follow a similar pattern. Media hype suggests a planet ablaze, but global burned area has decreased by 25 percent since 2001, according to NASA data. Each year, the reduction spares from the flames an area larger than Texas and California combined.

 

In the U.S., while recent years have seen large fires, the 1930s Dust Bowl was five times worse. Fires are down everywhere else in the satellite era: They’re trending lower in Australia, Europe, and South America; Asia hit its third-lowest annual burned area, and Africa (the biggest burner by far) posted its all-time low in 2025. North America’s woes to a large extent stem from mismanagement: We’ve skipped the prescribed burns that lower long-term fire risk; a century of this fire suppression has built up undergrowth fuel and created tinderboxes. Yet this is spun as “climate change,” not policy failure.

 

Even CO2 emissions from wildfires are plummeting. The year 2025 saw the lowest-ever-recorded emissions in the satellite era, down 3 gigatons from early-2000s levels — equivalent to wiping out the annual emissions of Brazil and Indonesia combined. This undercuts the core argument that rising global temperatures are supercharging fires and feedback loops of carbon release.

 

This decline isn’t new; it’s a century-long pattern driven by human adaptation. People hate fires, so we prevent them. In the early 1900s, nearly 4 percent of global land burned yearly — two Indias’ worth. Today, it’s nearly halved, to 2.2 percent, sparing almost one India ablaze annually. Better land management, farming practices, and fire suppression have tamed blazes worldwide.

 

Air pollution from fires follows suit. Globally, reduced burning means cleaner air. The risk of death from fire-related pollution has dropped significantly, likely saving tens of thousands of lives yearly, especially among vulnerable infants.

 

Global fires are dramatically down, with lower emissions, pollution, and intensity — all facts that challenge the alarmism. In the wake of Gore’s film, media and activists have worked overtime to amplify every weather event as “unprecedented,” but the evidence shows that humanity is safer than ever from climate disasters. Climate change is real, but its impacts on extreme weather are dramatically overstated.

 

***

 

Now consider the policy fallout. Gore’s call to action spurred trillions of dollars in spending to reduce emissions. Yet global fossil-fuel emissions have set records nearly every year since 2006, and they again set a record in 2025. Fossil fuels still dominate because countries want cheap and reliable power.

 

In 2006, the world got 82.6 percent of its total energy (not just electricity) from fossil fuels, according to the International Energy Agency. Annual fossil-fuel consumption rose 26 percent between then and 2023, the last year with global data. Even though renewables had also grown spectacularly, the world was still overwhelmingly dependent on fossil fuels delivering 81.1 percent of global energy. On current trends, it will take until the year 2708 to reach zero.

 

Gore explicitly claimed that the solutions to climate change were already at hand — especially solar and wind. Implementing these technologies swiftly and decisively, he said, required only sufficient political will from especially rich nations. This missed the fact that solar and wind are still not cheap and that much of the non-rich world has leaned even more into fossil fuels.

 

Although solar and wind technologies have become dramatically cheaper in recent years, they remain fundamentally intermittent: They generate power only when the sun shines or the wind blows, not satisfying demand around the clock. Modern societies require reliable, 24/7 electricity, which means any heavy reliance on renewables necessitates substantial backup systems — typically fossil-fuel plants (like natural gas) that can ramp up quickly to fill the gaps during extended periods of low generation. People think that batteries can play a large role, but almost everywhere, we have battery backup for just tens of minutes, whereas weeks or months would be needed — which would entail a prohibitive cost.

 

The result is that citizens and economies end up paying nearly twice. While we save on fossil-fuel costs, we have to pay once for the renewables themselves (including their installation, grid integration, and subsidies) and again for the reliable backup infrastructure that will keep the lights on.

 

(International Energy Agency, Statista)

 

Studies examining real-world grids in places such as China, Germany, and Texas show that, after properly accounting for these backup costs, the true all-in price of solar and wind power often turns out to be significantly higher than claimed — sometimes twice as expensive as coal, and many times more than fossil fuels when reliability is factored in.

 

We’re constantly bombarded with the narrative that solar and wind are the cheapest energy sources around — an idea that Gore did much to sell. But look at the real-world data: As nations ramp up their share of these intermittent renewables, electricity prices soar. Countries such as Denmark and Germany, for instance, get more than 40 percent of their power from solar and wind, but they face electricity costs double or triple those in China or the U.S., which use these renewables far less.

 

And it turns out that even China, which is often rumored to be going green, is really overwhelmingly fossil-fuel-based. The solar panels and wind turbines China sells the rest of the world are mostly made with fossil fuels.

 

An Inconvenient Truth’s naïve framing — that we already possess affordable, scalable solutions and merely lack the resolve to deploy them — ignored these practical engineering and economic realities.

 

Estimates vary, but climate policies since 2006 have cost more than $16 trillion globally, including subsidies, regulations, and infrastructure. In the U.S. alone, the Inflation Reduction Act poured hundreds of billions into green tech. Yet emissions climb because the rich world’s efforts ignore the developing world’s realities. Here’s the crux: An Inconvenient Truth focused on what rich countries should do: cut emissions drastically. But rich nations (OECD countries) will account for only about 13 percent of remaining 21st-century emissions. Emerging giants including China, India, and Africa drive the rest. Even if all rich countries achieved net-zero by mid-century, it would avert less than 0.2 degrees Fahrenheit of warming by 2100, using the U.N. climate panel’s own model. That’s negligible.

 

This missing sense of proportion from Al Gore continues to stoke climate agitation, with activists happily glueing themselves to roads and vandalizing paintings in the U.S. and Europe, blaming Western countries for not reducing their carbon footprint enough. Meanwhile, the agitators ignore the real elephants in the room.

 

As other global challenges — poverty, disease, education — demand attention, the costs of climate policy must be weighed. The best economic evidence suggests that unmitigated warming might shave 2–3 percent off global GDP by 2100. That’s not trivial, but context matters: Under baseline growth, the average person’s income globally would rise 450 percent by this century’s end; taking into account the impact of climate change, it would feel as if that person would be “only” 435 percent richer. We’re talking about being vastly richer, just slightly less so.

 

Current net-zero policies, however, are fantastically expensive with minimal benefits. One set of analyses pegs global net-zero costs at $27 trillion annually across the 21st century, yielding just $4.5 trillion in annual avoided damages. That means for every dollar spent on today’s climate policies, we waste over 80 cents.

 

***

 

Where Gore’s movie failed most was in neglecting to make the case for smarter approaches. Instead of panic-driven mandates, we need to prioritize innovation. R&D into green tech — better batteries, advanced nuclear, carbon capture — could slash costs, making a transition affordable or even desirable for all. Adaptation saves lives cheaply: seawalls, drought-resistant crops, early warnings. And finally, development lifts billions out of poverty, building resilience.

 

If we’re actually going to tackle climate change, we will need to pivot from Gore’s alarmist playbook to evidence-based strategies that deliver results. Central to this is ramping up innovation through green research and development. History shows that humanity solves big problems not by rationing or banning but by inventing breakthroughs. We didn’t end air pollution by banning cars; we innovated the catalytic converter. Hunger wasn’t curbed by telling people to eat less; it was the Green Revolution — developing and spreading high-yield crop varieties alongside modern inputs like synthetic fertilizers, irrigation, and improved farming techniques — that dramatically boosted harvests and helped feed billions.

 

But governments have neglected climate R&D for decades. In the 1980s, rich countries spent nearly 8 cents per $100 of GDP on low-carbon tech. Today, it’s less than 4 cents. Nations promised to double this in 2015 but fell far short. Economists, including Nobel laureates, estimate that boosting global green R&D to $100 billion annually — still far less than the $2.3 trillion spent on green energy last year — could make future decarbonization cheap enough for everyone, including the developing world. This would accelerate advancements in fission, fusion, advanced geothermal, and efficient storage, outpacing the costly rollout of current, inefficient renewables.

 

Adaptation must complement innovation, as it’s often the most cost-effective way to build resilience and save lives and livelihoods. We’re already adapting successfully, which is why wildfire deaths are down; flood deaths have likewise plummeted with adaptation and warnings. In low-lying nations such as Bangladesh, cyclone mortality has fallen sharply with shelters and better forecasts: from the global record death toll of more than 300,000 in 1970 to fewer than 200 dead per year since 2008. Investing in resilient infrastructure — such as the Netherlands’ seawalls, which protect against rises far beyond current projections, or adaptations like drought-resistant seeds — could avert damages at a fraction of mitigation costs. Adaptation gets just a fraction of climate funding, overshadowed by a drive for cuts in emissions that yield tiny temperature benefits.

 

Finally, we need to prioritize development to build inherent resilience. Poverty is the real killer in disasters: A hurricane hitting rich Florida causes economic damage but few deaths, while the same hurricane hitting poor Haiti will kill hundreds and devastate the economy.

 

Lifting billions out of poverty through education, health, and economic growth creates societies that can withstand warming. Much more important, such advances also create huge humanitarian and quality-of-life benefits. In Africa and Asia, where emissions will surge, affordable energy fuels this progress; forcing expensive green energy will stall progress. Gore’s vision ignored all these factors; 20 years later, it’s time to embrace them.

 

Climate policy must ultimately serve people, especially the billions facing poverty, hunger, and preventable disease. Green policies can help a tiny bit, though they come at a huge cost, but the greatest threats to human welfare remain those immediate killers. We should allocate our limited resources in proportion to how effectively they can mitigate suffering — tackling malaria, malnutrition, and lack of access to basic energy first, while advancing clean innovations that make reliable power affordable for everyone. This shift in focus, particularly in the world’s poorest places, will create far more resilient societies than rigid emissions targets alone ever could.

 

Two decades on, An Inconvenient Truth reminds us that claiming to care about the planet and future generations is not enough. Alarmism has cost trillions but achieved little. We need to embrace the evidence: Climate change is a challenge, not a catastrophe. And there are cost-effective solutions such as innovation, adaptation, and development, even if they are not as morally satisfying as the exhortations in Gore’s movie. 

The Dinner That Sealed Ukraine’s Fate

By Christopher Hyland

Saturday, March 21, 2026

 

On the evening of November 22, 1994, I sat in the White House State Dining Room as President Clinton hosted Ukrainian President Leonid Kuchma at a state dinner. Sandy Berger, then Clinton’s deputy national security adviser and soon to be national security adviser, changed seats to sit beside me. Over the next three hours, Sandy laid out what would become one of the most consequential — and catastrophic — foreign policy decisions of the post–Cold War era: Within 13 days, Ukraine would sign the Budapest Memorandums, surrendering the world’s third-largest nuclear arsenal to the Russian Federation.

 

I told Sandy that night, as plainly as I could, that this action was a path to war. Thirty years later, hundreds of thousands are dead, and the path I warned of has been walked to its bitter end.

 

I was not a bystander to these events. As deputy national political director of the first Clinton for President campaign, and later political director of the Clinton transition, I had built the networks connecting America’s ethnic communities — Ukrainian, Irish, Indian, Kosova, and many others — to the incoming administration. I chaired the Clinton Transition Conference on Eastern Europe. In his autobiography, President Clinton himself wrote about my work organizing ethnic leaders “making an important contribution to victory in the general election, and laying the foundation for our continued unprecedented contact with ethnic communities once we got to the White House.” Those communities were not ornamental. During the Cold War, their leaders had functioned as quasi-governments in exile, and the intelligence they conveyed to me was invaluable.

 

Before the dinner began, I found myself alone with the Clintons and the Kuchmas in the Oval Reception Room. Not certain that Kuchma had already committed to disarmament, I spoke directly to the Ukrainian president: Ukraine, I said, should not give up its nuclear weapons if it wished to safeguard its sovereignty against Russia. His stoic expression shifted, however momentarily. Only later did Sandy confirm that the decision had already been made.

 

Over dinner, as Clinton and Kuchma exchanged toasts, Sandy outlined the architecture of the deal. Ukraine would relinquish every nuclear weapon. In return, its security would be “guaranteed” by Russia, the United Kingdom, and the United States. I pressed him on specifics. A memorandum, I noted, is not a treaty. American soldiers would never be sent to enforce it.

 

I reminded Sandy of the Holodomor — the deliberate starvation of millions of Ukrainians by Bolshevik Russia in 1932–33 — and of the decades of Soviet brutality that followed. I urged him to read Georgetown Professor Lev Dobriansky’s The Vulnerable Russians, a primer on the relentless imperial character of Russia, whether czarist, Bolshevik, or post-Soviet. I warned that any provocation would expose a non-nuclear Ukraine to existential danger.

 

To placate me, Sandy offered a vision. Ukraine would remain neutral. It would not join the European Union. It would not join NATO. It would remain unconnected to nuclear weaponry, open to investment from all quarters, threatening no one.

 

“So you’re saying Ukraine becomes the Switzerland of Eastern Europe,” I said. “No push to join NATO or the EU, open to investment from all quarters.”

 

“Yes,” he replied.

 

It was a compelling vision. Though some of the parties may not have realized it at the time, it was also a fiction. I already suspected as much. In a prior conversation with Madeleine Albright — who would become secretary of state in 1997 — I had come away with the distinct impression that she envisioned all of Eastern Europe joining the EU and NATO. Sandy’s promise of Swiss-style neutrality and Albright’s expansionist trajectory could not coexist. One of them was ill-informed, or neither was aware of the other’s Ukraine vision. Either way, Ukraine was being handed a set of assurances that the American foreign policy establishment, in the event, could not sustain.

 

After the dinner, walking back to our hotels through the November chill, I turned to Bohdan Watral, then head of the Selfreliance Credit Union in Chicago, and told him what I believed: that, however well-intended decision-makers might have been, a path to war between Ukraine and Russia had been set that night at the White House. I felt sick. There was no vision in this undertaking, no noble intent — rather a shocking ineptness. Alexander Kerensky, who had been head of the provisional Russian government in 1917, once told me, in the Hall of Nations at Georgetown, that initially it took only a handful of Bolsheviks to upend the massive Russian Empire. What I witnessed on November 22, 1994, was a handful of political operatives — misguided at best — condemning millions to suffering and upending centuries of Ukrainian hopes for stable sovereignty, hopes then only recently realized.

 

The rest unfolded with grim predictability. Almost from the moment its nuclear arsenal was relinquished, Ukraine — with robust American and European encouragement — began moving toward EU and NATO membership, directly contradicting every assurance Sandy had given me. A successful coup was staged against an elected, pro-Russian Ukrainian president. War began in 2014. It escalated into full-scale invasion in 2022. Each chapter baited the Russian Bear further. Was it prudent for Ukraine’s ambassador to Berlin to announce massive industrial projects with Germany that completely excluded Russia? Was it wise to cut off water to Crimea? Bullies must be managed with finesse. This was never a Chamberlain moment — it was a failure of strategic imagination.

 

McGeorge Bundy, President Kennedy’s national security adviser, once told me at a gathering at his home in Manchester-by-the-Sea: “We could not have Russian missiles in Cuba threatening the Mississippi. Behind the public discord, we were calmly negotiating.” In exchange for Soviet missiles leaving Cuba, American missiles were quietly withdrawn from Spain and Turkey. The crisis was resolved because both sides understood that great powers do not tolerate existential threats on their borders — and because leaders on both sides were willing to trade concessions out of public view.

 

By the same token, no matter how passionately Ukraine agitated to shelter under NATO’s nuclear umbrella, Russia was never going to accept nuclear-armed missiles a few hundred kilometers from Moscow. Kennedy and Bundy understood this principle instinctively. The architects of the Budapest Memorandums either did not understand it or did not care.

 

I have come to think of the Budapest Memorandums as the Budapest Whisper — a promise made sotto voce, designed to sound like a guarantee while committing to nothing. A memorandum, not a treaty. Assurances, not obligations. Sadly, it was inherently flawed.

 

Decisions are often made under the guise of good intention — sincerely supported by many — but for some in service of very different, often convoluted ends. It remains for historians to dig deeper into the whys and wherefores. One suspects that what they find will not be pleasing.

 

I have carried the weight of that evening for over three decades. Having lived in Switzerland for three years, I understood what neutrality could offer. Having visited Prague and Moscow as a 16-year-old in 1963, I understood firsthand the awesome, relentless gravity of the Russian vortex. The Swiss model could have worked. It was never given the chance. Might it still?

 

Pray for peace in Ukraine.