Frazier is an assistant professor at the Crump College of Law at St. Thomas University. Starting this summer, he will serve as a Tarbell fellow.
Artificial intelligence is advancing at a speed and in ways that were unanticipated even by the foremost AI experts. Just a few decades ago, AI was largely theoretical, existing primarily in the realms of science fiction and academic research. Today, AI permeates nearly every aspect of our lives, from the algorithms that curate social media feeds to the autonomous systems that drive cars. This rapid advancement, while promising in many respects, also heralds a new era of uncertainty and potential peril.
The pace at which AI technology is evolving outstrips our ability to predict its trajectory. Breakthroughs occur at a staggering rate, often in areas previously deemed infeasible or far-off. For instance, the development of GPT-3, an AI language model capable of producing human-like text, astonished even seasoned AI researchers with its capabilities and the speed at which it surpassed its predecessors. Such rapid advancements suggest that the future of AI holds both immense potential and significant risks.
One of the most pressing concerns is the increased likelihood of emergencies exacerbated by AI. More sophisticated AI could enable more complex and devastating cyberattacks, as malicious actors leverage AI to breach security systems that were previously impenetrable. Similarly, advances in AI-driven biotechnology could lead to the creation of more deadly bioweapons, posing new and unprecedented threats to global security. Moreover, the rapid automation of jobs could lead to widespread unemployment, causing significant social disruption. The displacement of workers by AI could further entrench economic inequality and trigger unrest, as societies struggle to adapt to these changes.
The likelihood of an AI emergency paired with our poor track record of responding to similar emergencies is cause for concern. The Covid-19 pandemic starkly highlighted the inadequacies of our constitutional order in emergency responses. The pandemic exposed deep flaws in our preparedness and response mechanisms, demonstrating how ill-equipped we are to handle sudden, large-scale crises. Our fragmented political system, with its layers of bureaucracy and competing jurisdictions, proved unable to respond swiftly and effectively. This deficiency raises serious concerns about our ability to manage future emergencies, particularly those that could be precipitated by AI.
Given the profound uncertainty surrounding when and how an AI accident might occur and the potential damage it could cause, it is imperative that AI companies bear a significant responsibility for helping us prepare for such eventualities. The private sector, which stands to benefit enormously from AI advancements, must also contribute to safeguarding society against the risks these technologies pose. One concrete step that AI companies should take is to establish an emergency fund specifically intended for responding to AI-related accidents.
Such a fund would serve as a financial safety net, providing resources to mitigate the effects of AI emergencies. It could be used to support rapid response efforts, fund research into preventative measures, and assist individuals and communities affected by AI-driven disruptions. By contributing to this fund, AI companies would acknowledge their role in creating technologies that, while beneficial, also carry inherent risks. This approach would not only demonstrate corporate responsibility but also help ensure that society is better prepared to respond to AI-related crises.
The establishment of an emergency fund for AI disasters would require a collaborative effort between the private sector and government. Congress could mandate contributions from AI companies based on their revenue or the scale of their AI operations. This would ensure that the financial burden of preparing for AI emergencies is shared equitably and that sufficient resources are available when needed. To safeguard the proper use of the funds, Congress should establish an independent entity tasked with securing contributions and responding to claims for reimbursement.
In conclusion, the rapid advancement of AI presents both incredible opportunities and significant risks. While we cannot predict exactly how AI will evolve or what specific emergencies it may precipitate, we can take proactive steps to prepare for these eventualities. AI companies, as key stakeholders in the development and deployment of these technologies, must play a central role in this effort. By contributing to an emergency fund for AI disasters, they can help ensure that we are equipped to respond to crises in a legitimate and effective fashion.
AI models are being built. Accidents will come. The question is whether we will be prepared to respond in a legitimate and effective fashion.
A deep look at how "All in the Family" remains a striking mirror of American politics, class tensions, and cultural manipulation—proving its relevance decades later.
All in This American Family
There are a few shows that have aged as eerily well as All in the Family.
It’s not just that it’s still funny and has the feel not of a sit-com, but of unpretentious, working-class theatre. It’s that, decades later, it remains one of the clearest windows into the American psyche. Archie Bunker’s living room has been, as it were, a small stage on which the country has been working through the same contradictions, anxieties, and unresolved traumas that still shape our politics today. The manipulation of the working class, the pitting of neighbor against neighbor, the scapegoating of the vulnerable, the quiet cruelties baked into everyday life—all of it is still here with us. We like to reassure ourselves that we’ve progressed since the early 1970s, but watching the show now forces an unsettling recognition: The structural forces that shaped Archie’s world have barely budged. The same tactics of distraction and division deployed by elites back then are still deployed now, except more efficiently, more sleekly.
Archie himself is the perfect vessel for this continuity. He is bigoted, blustery, reactive, but he is also wounded, anxious, and constantly misled by forces above and beyond him. Norman Lear created Archie not as a monster to be hated (Lear’s genius was to make Archie lovable despite his loathsome stands), but as a man trapped by the political economy of his era: A union worker who feels his country slipping away, yet cannot see the hands that are actually moving it. His anger leaks sideways, onto immigrants, women, “hippies,” and anyone with less power than he has. The real villains—the wealthy, the connected, the manufacturers of grievance—remain safely and comfortably offscreen. That’s part of the show’s key insight: It reveals how elites thrive by making sure working people turn their frustrations against each other rather than upward.
Edith, often dismissed as naive or scatterbrained, functions as the show’s quiet moral center. Her compassion exposes the emotional void in Archie’s worldview and, in doing so, highlights the costs of the divisions that powerful interests cultivate. Meanwhile, Mike the “Meathead” represents a generation trying to break free from those divisions but often trapped in its own loud self-righteousness. Their clashes are not just family arguments but collisions between competing visions of America’s future. And those visions, tellingly, have yet to resolve themselves.
The political context of the show only sharpens its relevance. Premiering in 1971, All in the Family emerged during the Nixon years, when the “Silent Majority” strategy was weaponizing racial resentment, cultural panic, and working-class anxiety to cement power. Archie was a fictional embodiment of the very demographic Nixon sought to mobilize and manipulate. The show exposed, often bluntly, how economic insecurity was being rerouted into cultural hostility. Watching the show today, it’s impossible to miss how closely that logic mirrors the present, from right-wing media ecosystems to politicians who openly rely on stoking grievances rather than addressing root causes.
What makes the show unsettling today is that its satire feels less like a relic and more like a mirror. The demagogic impulses it spotlighted have simply found new platforms. The working-class anger it dramatized has been harvested by political operatives who, like their 1970s predecessors, depend on division to maintain power. The very cultural debates that fueled Archie’s tirades — about immigration, gender roles, race, and national identity—are still being used as tools to distract from wealth concentration and political manipulation.
If anything, the divisions are sharper now because the mechanisms of manipulation are more sophisticated, for much has been learned by The Machine. The same emotional raw material Lear mined for comedy is now algorithmically optimized for outrage. The same social fractures that played out around Archie’s kitchen table now play out on a scale he couldn’t have imagined. But the underlying dynamics haven’t changed at all.
That is why All in the Family feels so contemporary. The country Lear dissected never healed or meaningfully evolved: It simply changed wardrobe. The tensions, prejudices, and insecurities remain, not because individuals failed to grow but because the economic and political forces that thrive on division have only become more entrenched. Until we confront the political economy that kept Archie and Michael locked in an endless loop of circular bickering, the show will remain painfully relevant for another fifty years.
Ahmed Bouzid is the co-founder of The True Representation Movement.