Ken Rudin joins The Great Battlefield podcast to talk about his career as a journalist at NPR, hosting his podcast, The Political Junkie and why he's changed his nonpartisan orientation in the Trump era.
Journalist and Political Junkie Ken Rudinopen.spotify.com
AI literacy isn’t just about jobs. Learn why schools should teach students to question AI outputs, verify claims, and think critically as citizens.
Almost everyone I know is talking about artificial intelligence. Teacher friends say it helps with administrative tasks, then describe their frustration when students use it to complete assignments. Principals wonder whether teachers are using it effectively. Colleagues past and present worry about how it will shape their students’ lives. And among parents in my kids’ circles, the chatter is mostly about jobs: Do we need AI literacy to stay relevant at work? What does AI mean for our children’s future careers? How much should we trust it?
These questions matter, but I worry we’re missing the plot. AI literacy isn’t only about preparing students to work with AI. It’s about preparing them to live in a democracy increasingly shaped by it.
In a democracy, and especially in election season, people must evaluate political claims, separate evidence from assertion, recognize uncertainty, and understand how information reaches them. AI now influences what people read, how information is summarized, and which claims seem credible. That makes these skills more urgent, not less.
The policy picture shows how far we have to go. CivxNow’s September 2026 state policy scan found that 44 states and Washington, D.C., include media or information literacy in their learning standards. Yet only five have an instructional mandate, and just two explicitly address AI and algorithmic literacy. In other words, most states say the skill matters without requiring anyone to teach it. As a social studies educator, I hope more states adopt explicit AI literacy standards. As a seasoned education professional, I also know that standards alone don’t guarantee meaningful instruction.
What would? High-quality curriculum. Professional learning for teachers. And regular practice with real-world issues, not a one-off unit in a technology elective. These skills belong across the curriculum. In a civics classroom I visited this past year, I watched students use AI tools to break down a complicated Supreme Court ruling, translating dense legal language into plain terms. The lesson didn’t stop there. With encouragement from their teacher, students then returned to the opinion itself to check whether the AI captured what Chief Justice Roberts actually argued, and what it left out. In history, students can test AI-generated claims against primary sources. In government, they can verify sources while researching public policy. Taught this way, AI literacy reinforces disciplinary learning and civic education instead of competing with them.
Students also deserve a say. As schools and communities across the nation draft AI policies, I hope students will have a voice in those decisions, because they are the ones most affected.
The goal is not uncritical trust in AI, nor is it avoiding it. It is teaching students to question outputs, verify claims, notice missing context, and make informed decisions. These are not merely technology skills. They are habits of thoughtful citizenship.
A democracy depends on people who can evaluate information, weigh evidence, and make sound judgments. As AI increasingly shapes what we encounter, preparing students for the future means more than teaching them to use the technology. AI literacy is becoming a civic skill, and our schools must help students build it.
Aruna Patel is the Vice President and Chief Program Officer at the Center for Civic Education.
Anthropic warns of AI botnets seizing the web. A veteran trial attorney argues the solution is simple: unplug the internet and bring back an analog society.
Anthropic CEO Dario Amodei has warned "that a swarm of AI agents soon ‘could be capable of taking over the entire internet with a persistent botnet.’”
Oh, perish the thought! I say, let’s unplug from and discontinue use of the internet. Let the bots roam uselessly on an unused internet and perhaps die a natural death there!
Think of how wonderful our world would be without youth glued to their phones walking into traffic and hogging gym machines while scrolling; with no “smart” phones; people actually reading books; people talking to each other; students actually learning in school; no internet influencers; no internet scammers; no “perv” glasses; healthcare returning to paper charts; youth delivering your local paper from a thriving local newspaper; no divisive cable channels; the rise of a new Walter Cronkite on one of the three mainstream channels; no presidents and other politicians sending out infantile AI slop to the nation; people writing and sending via mail thoughtful handwritten notes to each other; the US Postal Service thriving from promptly and efficiently delivering a huge volume of mail; no drones; no billionaires degrading our society and politics with a witch’s brew of algorithms; TVs that don’t watch their viewers; people actually thinking; analog telephones restored to homes, roads, and businesses; no worries about AI killing us in the next decade; and businesses using handwriting, the mail and telephones for order entry, billing and accounting.
Oh, but you say, if we stop AI development now, America’s enemies will continue AI’s development and send robots to enslave us. Fear not, we will still have nukes. We can also threaten to release our AI that is imprisoned on our defunct American internet onto their active internets.
I know whereof I speak. In 1987, I defended Pacific Bell in lawsuit brought by a construction material supply company. As I recall, this company in 1979 had its headquarters in Fresno and branch offices elsewhere in California. Handwritten order entry went via mail or phone from the branch offices to Fresno for billing and accounting. The company was successful. Seeking to modernize, it purchased a mainframe computer for accounting in Fresno, leased dedicated private data lines and terminals from the phone company for the branch offices to communicate with the Fresno mainframe, and purchased an experimental software intended to enable the terminals to communicate efficiently with the different architecture of the mainframe. The system was too slow, so the company went back to handwritten order entry.
The company claimed it was defrauded and suffered losses and lost profits. Pac Bell’s defense was that the company had been fully warned of the risk that the experimental system might not work as intended but wanted to try it anyway. Also, the losses were due to a big dip in the construction cycle and historically heavy rain in 1980-1983. A brilliant Berkeley economist showed by statistical analysis that the company’s losses corresponded almost precisely to the collapse of the construction cycle and the heavy rains. Unfortunately, she had to admit that statistical analysis does not prove cause and effect, as she conceded that sunspots do not cause sailing ships to enter New York Harbor, which is a well-known statistical correlation.
After a 3 and ½ month long trial, the second longest civil jury trial in Fresno County history at the time, the jury rejected the company’s claim for over $20 million in lost profits, but awarded the company the compensatory amount of its losses for $3.8 million, essentially restoring it to break-even. But the jury also thought Pac Bell should be punished for misrepresenting the system.
The Clerk read on: “For punitive damages, $500 million dollars!” About to collapse, I thought, “Oh my, I’ve just sold the phone company.” That was real money in 1987!
The Judge grumbled, “Wait a minute, wait a minute, let me see that. No, punitive damages are $500,000.” Never thought I could be happy to hear my client had been hit for $500,000 in punitive damages!
I had my share of wins and losses over my long legal career, much of which occurred during the slower, happier, and successful days of paper, pen, voice, and analog fax. We can and ought to return to those days! Maybe X-rays will not be read as well, but humanity will survive and thrive.
Still not convinced? Where’s “Wall-E” playing these days?
Daniel O. Jamison is a retired attorney. He is the author of the forthcoming book from McFarland & Company, Inc., Publishers, titled, “The Birth of Jim Crow: Racism, Reconstruction and the Pivotal Supreme Court Cases of 1857-1908.” Jamison’s op-eds have been widely published around the nation.
An emergency doctor with 28 years on the front lines explains why HBO Max's award-winning drama "The Pitt" isn't Hollywood exaggeration, but an urgent, accurate look inside America's buckling healthcare safety net.
In its first two seasons, the HBO Max series “The Pitt” about the fictional Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center, has received over 30 nominations and has won 11 Emmy’s including Outstanding Drama Series for the last two consecutive years. It may be fair to say, “The Pitt” has connected.
People ask me constantly: Is "The Pitt" real?
They ask it half-joking, expecting me to laugh and say, “Of course not,” at Hollywood's usual over-the-top exaggeration and glamorization of a busy emergency department.
But when it comes to "The Pitt," I don't laugh, I nod.
The response I immediately get is universal. “Wait, what, are you serious?”
After working in emergency departments for 28 years, I see this show is less entertainment with a medical backdrop, and more like a documentary with a script. And that distinction matters, because "The Pitt" has quietly become something unique in American television-- a modern-day canary in the coal mine.
In the late 1800s, British physiologist John Scott Haldane began investigating why coal mine explosions kept killing miners even when no fire or blast ever reached them. He traced it back to carbon monoxide, a gas with no color and no smell, invisible until it was fatal. The canary became an early-warning instrument, making an invisible danger visible before it became lethal.
That's precisely the role "The Pitt" is playing now. For years, emergency medicine has been trying to describe an invisible gas: ED boarding and a safety net stretched past its design limits. It took “The Pitt” putting crisis in front of 11 million viewers, in real time, over a single continuous shift, to make the connection.
"The Pitt" doesn't dramatize emergency medicine so much as it exposes it with uncomfortable accuracy. That includes admitted patients “boarding” in hallways because there are no inpatient beds to admit. So a physician must decide, in real time, whom to see first when everyone needs to be seen now. None of this is exaggerated for drama. If anything, it's restrained.
That's the deeper truth the show gets right: the emergency department has become the place where the breakdown of the American health care system eventually lands. The patient who can't get a primary care appointment for six weeks comes to the emergency department instead.
The patient with no insurance, no stable housing, uncontrolled diabetes, or a mental health crisis with nowhere else to go comes to the emergency department. Emergency departments have become the safety net of last resort, and the show captures what it feels like to be the thread that net is fraying on.
“The PITT” offers proximity. Watch the fictional Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch played by Noah Wyle, try to hold his department together for 12 straight hours, and something clicks. Entertainment succeeds where advocacy alone often stalls, because it makes people feel what you’re saying: this system is buckling, and it's buckling in front of patients who have nowhere to go.
"The Pitt" now dramatizes for a national audience that the ED isn't just where emergencies happen. It is where health inequity becomes visible, measurable, and, if we pay attention, addressable.
The U.S. healthcare ecosystem needs capacity, emergency departments need capacity, and without it systems become overwhelmed. The traditional economics of supply and demand are not optimal when it comes to the healthcare sector because healthcare is not the same as widgets.
It is critical then to think outside the box to make an inefficient system more efficient. That starts with creating operational capacity across our entire healthcare ecosystem.
There is not one single all-encompassing solution, but likely a path forward that involves small but impactful actions such as efforts around optimizing patient flow, streamlining operations, and leveraging data without relying on the creation of more inefficient systems.
"The Pitt" has done its job; it has made the invisible visible. Now it's up to the healthcare collective – policymakers, administrators, medical staff, advocates, volunteers, patients, funders--to fix the air, not just admire the canary that warned us.
Dr. Heather Prendergast is a Professor of Emergency Medicine, Attending Physician, and Vice Dean of Clinical Affairs at the University of Illinois College of Medicine , and a Public Voices Fellow of the OpED Project at the University of Illinois.
Arguments or debates, disputes or conflicts, verbal clashes. Angry men and women roar at each other
I just listened to political scientist Lilliana Mason challenge one of the most familiar explanations of what is wrong with American politics.
We are constantly told that America suffers from polarization. Republicans and Democrats have moved too far apart. They distrust each other, increasingly regard one another as enemies, and have lost the ability to compromise. The prescribed remedies are familiar: more civility, more dialogue, less hostility, and a return to the political center.
But what if polarization is not the underlying problem?
In her October 2026 Journal of Democracy essay, “Polarization Is Not the Problem,” Mason argues that America’s political divisions reflect a deeper struggle over who belongs in the country, who exercises power, and who deserves equal rights.
If we diagnose the wrong problem, we are unlikely to find the right solutions.
The political change behind the division
Mason’s argument draws on years of research into political identity, racial attitudes, and partisan behavior.
In 2021, Mason and political scientists Julie Wronski and John V. Kane published “Activating Animus: The Uniquely Social Roots of Trump Support” in the American Political Science Review.
The researchers examined survey responses collected in 2011, years before Donald Trump announced his presidential candidacy. They measured respondents’ attitudes toward African Americans, Hispanics, Muslims, and gay and lesbian Americans, then examined how those earlier attitudes related to subsequent political preferences.
The researchers found that people who expressed hostility toward these minority groups in 2011 were more likely to support Trump years later, regardless of their earlier party affiliation. Those prejudices did not similarly predict support for other Republican politicians or for the Republican Party itself. The finding suggests that Trump drew support from people whose hostility toward minority groups was a stronger predictor of their support for him than their earlier party affiliation.
The study does not establish the precise size of that constituency or that every Trump supporter shared these prejudices. But it provides evidence for Mason’s recent argument: Trump helped mobilize people whose hostility toward minority groups had not previously translated into the same kind of partisan allegiance.
Mason argues that this mobilization helped give an ethnonationalist movement disproportionate influence within the Republican Party.
Her concern is not simply that Americans disagree about taxes, spending, or government regulation. It is that an influential political movement seeks to reverse gains in equal citizenship made by racial minorities, women, and LGBTQ Americans.
Racism in American politics is hardly new. Nor is the influence of racial resentment on Trump’s political movement. Mason highlights how a faction organized around those attitudes gained disproportionate power within a major political party, and why describing the resulting struggle as polarization misses what is at stake.
Balance can become distortion.
The second implication of Mason’s argument concerns journalism.
A familiar account of polarization portrays two parties that have become equally extreme, equally intolerant, and equally responsible for the breakdown of democratic norms.
That framing can sound objective. But objectivity does not require treating opposing sides as equivalent.
Journalists should scrutinize Democrats and Republicans alike. Neither party deserves immunity from criticism. But equal scrutiny does not require equal conclusions.
If one political movement challenges equal rights or democratic institutions, while another resists those challenges, describing their disagreement simply as mutual polarization leaves readers without essential information.
Journalists have an obligation to establish what is happening. What rights are being challenged? What policies are being advanced? What have political leaders said and done? How do those actions measure against constitutional protections and democratic principles?
These questions require evidence, not a predetermined distribution of blame.
A report can appear balanced while leaving readers with a fundamentally misleading picture of the conflict.
Mason’s essay suggests that the familiar language of polarization has become a way to avoid precisely that examination.
Asking the right question
I have spent much of my professional life working on complicated problems involving security, energy, environmental protection, and institutional decision-making.
One lesson carries across these fields: the way we define a problem determines which solutions we are prepared to consider, encouraging the audience to reflect on how they understand political issues.
If we mistake a symptom for a cause, we may devote enormous resources to interventions that leave the underlying system unchanged.
Consider what follows when polarization becomes our primary diagnosis. We look for ways to reduce partisan hostility, encourage compromise, and bring the country together.
Those may be worthwhile activities. But they do not answer Mason’s central question: What happens when the political conflict itself concerns whether every American should enjoy equal standing in our democracy?
A call for compromise cannot substitute for examining what is being compromised.
Nor should journalism’s commitment to fairness require neutrality about the democratic principles against which political conduct is judged.
Mason is asking us to stop measuring how divided we are and start examining why.
That deserves serious consideration, particularly from those of us who have grown accustomed to describing every new political confrontation as another example of polarization.
The question we should be asking is not why Americans are so divided.
It is what they are divided about, how those divisions gained political power, and what they mean for American democracy.
Until we answer that question, we may continue searching for solutions to the wrong problem.
Edward Saltzberg writes The Stability Brief, is the Executive Director of the Security and Sustainability Forum, and is a visiting scholar at George Washington University.
