Following recent bans in Washington, Virginia, and New Hampshire, Missouri and Oregon are poised to become the fourteenth and fifteenth states to ban marriage under 18 years. As recently as 2018, “child marriage” remained legal with parental consent and judicial approval in all 50 U.S. states. If you are shocked to read this, you are not alone; the majority of Americans assume it is illegal throughout the country.
It may also surprise you that resistance comes not just from conservatives, who have argued that an outright ban would risk either leaving teen mothers unmarried or the encouragement of abortion, but also from strongholds on the political left. In California, which has no legal age minimum for marriage, Planned Parenthood has argued that banning marriage under the age of 18 would “impede on the reproductive rights of minors and their ability to decide what is best for them, their health, and their lives."
The logic here is that, particularly in late adolescence and when a pregnancy or baby is involved, marriage may serve the best interests of a minor, and that parental consent and judicial approval already provide effective protections against marriages that would otherwise be harmful. There may also be securities inaccessible to unwed partners, such as spousal benefits, leading New Hampshire to recently introduce a bill that effectively reverses its own ban on child marriage for military personnel.
These considerations stand in stark contrast to the exacting lens with which American foreign policy frames child marriage in the Global South. In 2015, the U.S., as an influential United Nations member, signed on to a global target to abolish child marriage by 2030, thus depicting all marriages under 18 years as unequivocally harmful. There is little nuance or appreciation of adolescent autonomy here, with child marriage unambiguously categorized as a form of forced marriage and a human rights violation. Over 1400 organizations now work to end child marriage, primarily in low and middle-income countries, often drawing on both government and private funding from the U.S.
To be sure, child marriages are a rarity in the U.S., making up less than one percent of all marriages, compared to many African and South Asian countries where closer to a third of all girls and women marry under 18 years. However, the blaring hypocrisy of America’s position on child marriage is clear. Until America fully bans child marriage, it is one rule for “us” and one for “them.”
At a recent United Nations panel on the “Successes and setbacks in the global effort to end child marriage,” American hypocrisy on child marriage law was singled out as preventing global progress in passionate speeches by both American Writer Chelsea Clinton and Fraidy Reiss, founder of Unchained at Last, a nonprofit dedicated to ending child marriage in the U.S. If we cannot agree that child marriage should be illegal at home, the two advocates argued, how can we demand legal reform abroad?
As an anthropologist, I am hesitant to support any singular age threshold that universally designates the readiness to marry or the ability to give informed consent. A romanticized view of childhood as a “sanctuary” also fails to recognize that children can only live free from the risk of harm when their wider context has the resources to shield them. Without such protections, minors in the Global South routinely take on dangerous labor, engage in risky sexual behavior, fight in wars, and endure abuse or a high burden of domestic work at home.
Faced with these realities, a growing body of ethnographic research demonstrates that early marriage is often viewed by both adolescents and their parents as the best available option when situated within wider contexts of poverty, early childbearing, and patriarchal norms that afford few rights and opportunities for girls and women outside of marriage. Among the Maasai of Kenya, for example, parents consider early marriage as a relatively reliable pathway to social and economic security for their daughters, while enrollment in formal education is often a risky investment, unlikely to translate into livelihood security.
The notion that all child marriages are forced is also contradicted by the fact that a not insignificant portion takes place via elopement, against parental wishes. Similar characterizations have also been made about the historical prevalence of child marriage in the U.S. when marriage was sometimes used as a means of emancipation from responsibility to one’s natal family. In some scenarios, child marriage can present a rational choice and pathway to mitigating, rather than elevating, wider risks to an adolescent’s well-being.
Such observations do not dispute the potential harms of early marriage but do underline that care needs to be taken as we consider the path forward. As the U.S. critically evaluates whether child marriage should be banned outright, or allowed under certain scenarios, and is currently reconsidering its role in funding international development altogether, it is crucial that policymakers apply equivalent considerations to the capacity for youth to engage in informed decision-making both at home and abroad.
Our shared goal must be to end harmful early marriages globally, rather than to merely export an ethnocentric model of childhood universally ending at 18 years. Comprehensive policy requires not only legal reforms of marriage age but also identifying and targeting the wider structural factors that render early marriage desirable, often quite reasonably so, for many vulnerable young people around the world.
David W. Lawson is a Professor of Anthropology at the University of California, Santa Barbara, and a Public Voices fellow with the Op-Ed Project.




















image of U.S. President Donald Trump is displayed on a digital billboard in Times Square in New York on April 8, 2026.
Trump is stuck between two realities. Neither serves the American people
Normally, I worry that events may overtake a column. But not so with the Iran war.
I don’t worry about running afoul of a headline or Truth Social post from the president because what is said about the situation is no longer very relevant to the reality.
On April 8, Nick Catoggio, my Dispatch colleague, dubbed an earlier stoppage with Iran “Schrödinger’s ceasefire.” This was a reference to the famous thought experiment by the physicist Erwin Schrödinger, who was trying to explain the weirdness of “superpositionality” in quantum physics. A cat in a box is both dead and alive at the same time until you open the box. Schrödinger meant to illustrate the absurdity of the idea that particles aren’t any one thing, but a “cloud of probabilities.”
The Trump administration is stuck in a word cloud of probabilities of his own making. The war is over. The war is on. The war isn’t a war. We have a deal, but we don’t have a deal, but we’re about to have a deal. We destroyed Iran’s military. No, we left it intact. We want regime change. No we don’t. We already accomplished it. We “obliterated” Iran’s nuclear program a year ago. We had to go to war in February to prevent nuclear war. The Strait of Hormuz is open, closed, or something in-between. No deal without “unconditional surrender.” Let’s make a deal!
This everything-all-at-once vibe can be disorienting, particularly since most Americans didn’t have a war with Iran on their bingo cards until the shooting had already started. President Trump didn’t prepare the country or consult with Congress beforehand because he thought it would all be a smashing success in a matter of weeks.
The miscalculation that started it all: killing Iran’s Supreme Leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, and much of Iran’s senior leadership, on the first day of the war. To “the great proud people of Iran, I say tonight that the hour of your freedom is at hand,” Trump announced on Feb. 28. “When we are finished, take over your government. It will be yours to take. This will be probably your only chance for generations.”
I support regime change in Iran and shed no tears for Khamenei or his goons. But when you start a war by killing the regime’s top leaders, it’s not unreasonable for the remaining ones to conclude that you really intend regime change.
Khamenei was a murderous fanatic, but he was a fairly cautious one. He liked to threaten closing the Strait of Hormuz or attacking our regional allies, but he was reluctant to actually do it, fearing it would invite a regime change war. The mullahs and IRGC goons believed, not unreasonably, that if they lost their grip on power, they’d be lynched by the Iranian people they’ve brutalized for decades.
By starting with a regime change war, Trump removed any reason for the regime not to go for broke. When you have nothing to lose — particularly when you are a millenarian religious fanatic — a Persian Alamo strategy makes a lot of sense.
So Iran closed the Strait of Hormuz and attacked its neighbors.
But it turns out this wasn’t the Alamo. In the contest of wills, Trump blinked. The Iranian regime’s tolerance for punishment proved — so far — to be greater than Trump’s and that of our gulf allies. Militarily we could finish the job, but that would require ground troops and much greater economic turmoil. In a conflict Trump launched unilaterally without the prior support of Congress, NATO or the American people, Trump doesn’t have the political capital for that.
But that’s only half the problem. Trump wants the war over, but he doesn’t want to pay — militarily, economically, politically — what that would cost. So he wants to make a deal that ends it. But there is no deal available that wouldn’t come at an equally undesirable cost. Any deal that looks like what President Obama struck with the Iranians would be too embarrassing to bear. But the Iranians are convinced that they can get just such a deal, and they’re willing to drag things out as long as it takes.
The result: Trump’s in a box of his own making. He thinks he can talk his way out by simply asserting a reality that doesn’t exist. When the financial markets get nervous, he announces a breakthrough that is, at best, a possibility. When the Iranians agree to a deal that looks similar to one Obama might negotiate, Trump goes back to his threats.
It can’t go on forever. But I’m sure it’ll last until long after this column is forgotten.
Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.