“Do you think Robert Kennedy Jr will be good for the health of our country?” asked one of my relatives at a recent gathering. I looked up and locked eyes with her, starting to smile at what I assumed was a wry remark from a successful professional who recalls gratefully standing in line to receive the polio shot during its national rollout, the very vaccine for which Kennedy’s associates have sought to revoke government approval.
Seeing her earnest expression awaiting an answer, I quickly masked my disappointment. She was serious. I was stunned.
As the only doctor in my family, I often field inquiries about health-related topics. Increasingly, these questions have roots in politics, not medicine.
Proposals elevating unqualified individuals like Kennedy erode public confidence in medicine. When people mistake political messaging for scholarly debate, they miss opportunities to protect themselves and their children from preventable harm. As a neonatal critical care physician, I fear for the babies whose parents refuse the standard of care while believing they are acting in their child’s best interest.
If we actually want to “ make America healthy again,” we need doctors to lead, not lawyers, businesspeople, or politicians. If our goals include improved survival rates and a reduction in the burden of chronic illness, we should look to experts in medical specialties like pediatrics. Pediatricians focus on preventing illness, promoting growth and development, and addressing health determinants.
Thanks to advances and breakthroughs spearheaded by pediatricians and public health experts over the last century, fewer families suffer losses in infancy and childhood. Just a few generations ago, many young children died from infectious diseases, which are still formidable foes globally. Modern threats in America fundamentally differ from those in the past, but experts warn that “childhood” diseases will resurge, endangering us all.
When I became a doctor, I never imagined that dispelling families’ suspicions surrounding empirical practice would consume so much of my day. Given countless unexplored medical frontiers, I marvel at the cumulative energy currently spent rehashing questions science has answered definitively.
More and more, I engage in lengthy discussions about vitamin K, vaccines, breastmilk, and screenings like blood sugar and jaundice testing – all proven interventions that non-doctors now question in social media posts. These safe, scientifically-backed recommendations are evidence-based, decades old, and continually reevaluated. They are not experimental and rarely cutting edge. They are met with distrust anyway. Every week, I encounter at least one newborn (sometimes more) whose family declines data-driven medical advice.
To be sure, distrust is not the only motive for questioning medical guidelines. Some families worry about the financial burden of hospitalizations, particularly intensive care. With insurance companies routinely rejecting coverage for the standard of care, Americans justifiably ask what benefit they derive from medical protocols. While healthcare can be expensive, the cost of refusing medically-indicated care may be catastrophically high.
Improving health outcomes requires clear communication. Selecting a non-medical leader for HHS undermines effective communication in two important ways. First, it creates uncertainty about when medical expertise is necessary and what information and institutions Americans can trust. Second, this lack of clarity creates a permission structure for mental shortcuts and binary thinking instead of cultivating the analytical reasoning that health decisions require.
Take ultra-processed foods. Many refer to these foods as “bad.” While adults might safely eliminate these foods from their diet, reflexively rejecting all ultra-processed items could hurt many infants. Formula ( technically ultra-processed) remains an important nutrition for some babies, especially preterm infants and those with dietary restrictions. Without credible guidance and meaningful dialogue, truly beneficial advances risk dismissal alongside fads.
Nominating individuals for high-profile government positions imbues them and their beliefs with credibility, no matter how far-fetched. Sensible statements, like expressing concern that additives pose potential health dangers, comingle with conspiracy theories. The politicization of what should be bipartisan information places facts and fiction in ideological equipoise for many outside the medical community. This confusion most imperils children, who rely entirely on their caregivers’ judgment and decision-making.
Supporters claim Kennedy’s perspective will help Americans “ make informed choices.” His approach distracts attention from where it should be: solving our myriad medical mysteries. With HHS withholding information, urgency intensifies for its leader to operate with transparency, facts, and qualifications, as America’s pediatricians already do.
Dr. Brooke Redmond is an attending neonatologist at the Yale New Haven Children’s Hospital. She leads the Neonatal ICU as the Medical Director at Waterbury Hospital, where she is also the Chair of Pediatrics. Dr. Redmond is a fellow of the OpEd Project, and the opinions expressed are her own and do not represent those of Yale University.




















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.