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.
I first encountered Leszek Kołakowski, the Polish political thinker, as an undergraduate. It was he who warned of “an all-encompassing crisis” that societies can feel but cannot clearly name. His insight reads less like a relic of the late 1970s and more like a dispatch from our own political moment. We aren’t living through one breakdown, but a cascade of them—political, social, and technological—each amplifying the others. The result is a country where people feel burnt out, anxious, and increasingly unsure of where authority or stability can be found.
This crisis doesn’t have a single architect. Liberals can’t blame only Trump, and conservatives can’t pin everything on "wokeness." What we face is a convergence of powerful forces: decades of institutional drift, fractures in civic life, and technologies that reward emotions over understanding. These pressures compound one another, creating a sense of disorientation that older political labels fail to describe with the same accuracy as before.
For generations, the institutions that shaped everyday life acted as the community’s informal infrastructure, propping up society. Churches didn’t just offer a place to worship, but also offered childcare, shared meals, and weekly bingo nights that gave people a place to gather. Local newspapers kept residents informed about school tax referenda, zoning disputes, and neighborhood issues. Political party associations held fish fries and ward meetings where voters could meet the candidates seeking their support. Today, many of these anchors have thinned out or disappeared. A church that once ran a weekly food pantry shutters after membership declines. A small-town paper closes, leaving residents dependent on cable news and social‑media rumors. Local parties dissolve into little more than automated fundraising emails. Screens replace shared spaces, and as those real-world ties fade, so does the trust and connection they once made possible. None of this should surprise us—Neil Postman and Robert Putnam warned more than two decades ago that these civic foundations were eroding—and why--and that the consequences would be far-reaching.
That erosion leaves citizens mentally exhausted. Protest movements draw millions, but engagement rarely translates into sustained civic renewal. People show up in the streets, go home, and feel just as unmoored as before. The vocabulary of past ideological battles—left vs. right; big government vs. small—doesn’t capture the hollowing out of confidence that Kołakowski and others identified. This moment is about something deeper: a frayed sense of meaning. The connective tissue that once gave politics its purpose has worn thin.
Technology has accelerated this shift. What once promised connection now delivers outrage cycles instead. Social platforms sort people into warring tribes, reward the loudest voices, and spread half-truths faster than accurate reporting can catch up. Algorithms built to keep people engaged now drive wedges between them. Instead of broadening public debate, digital platforms splinter it into hostile enclaves. As misinformation grows easier to produce—thanks to AI-- and harder to correct, trust in both institutions and each other falls further.
Some remedies are already visible. Stronger privacy protections in Europe have curbed the most aggressive forms of surveillance advertising. Experiments that reduce the reach of engagement bait show real drops in viral misinformation. Several cities that invested in community journalism, public libraries, and adult media-literacy programs report higher turnout and more civic participation. These may be small steps, but they show how concrete local initiatives can rebuild public life.
At the national level, the work begins with restoring competence and clarity to the federal government. Congress can reestablish its role by passing a real data privacy law, strengthening oversight of digital platforms, and updating antitrust rules so a handful of companies cannot dominate public discourse. The White House can improve public confidence by speaking consistently, limiting policy whiplash, and giving agencies the stability they need to do their jobs. The courts can help by strengthening judicial ethics rules and explaining major decisions more clearly, closing the distance between legal reasoning and public understanding.
Trust grows when institutions do what they claim to do. People notice when benefits arrive on time, when rules are applied evenly, and when large projects move forward without years of delay. Visible competence matters. It’s one of the few things that reliably cuts through polarization.
But the deeper work to be done concerns meaning. No policy—however well-crafted—can endure without a public that believes in the institutions carrying it out. Technology transformed how Americans live together; now those institutions must shape the conditions under which technology operates. They must reward behaviors that strengthen the civic commons rather than erode them. And they must do so in a way that benefits ordinary people, not just the already powerful.
Kołakowski’s point remains as urgent now as it was then: a crisis without a name is still a crisis. The task ahead is more than fixing broken systems. It is rebuilding a politics capable of producing meaning rather than noise—one that encourages people to trust one another enough to act together. If we fail at that, the crisis will no longer be unnamed. It will simply feel permanent.
Robert Cropf is a Professor of Political Science at Saint Louis University.
AI is transforming how people seek help, share stories, and connect online. This article examines what’s at stake for social media and the future of human connection.
No doubt social media and online discussion forums have played an integral role in most everyone’s daily digital lives. Today, more than 70% of the U.S. adults use social media, and over 5 billion people worldwide participate in online social platforms.
Discussion forums alone attract enormous engagement. Reddit has over 110 million daily active users, and an estimated 300 million use Q&A forums like Quora per month, and 100 million per month use StackExchange. People seek advice, learn from others’ experiences, share questions, or connect around interests and identities.
In mental health contexts, online peer support communities offer a place to share and disclose personal struggles, hear others’ experiences, and receive social support. Research supports the success of these online communities, which enable people to candidly self-disclose and seek support from others.
When people engage with personal narratives on peer-support sites, they often feel more confident in coping with stressful events. At the same time, these platforms also expose individuals to online trolling, harassment, misinformation, and other antisocial behaviors.
The familiar dynamics of those communities took a turn about three years ago, when conversational AI tools like ChatGPT entered the public sphere and quickly captured widespread attention.
This marked the start of a new era of interactive AI in day-to-day lives and society. People tried recipes, coding help, emotional support, creative writing, and more. The ease of asking a machine a question, receiving a coherent response, and doing so privately sparked a new kind of engagement.
Shortly after ChatGPT’s release, Google issued a “code red,” citing the tool’s rapid adoption as a threat to traditional search behavior and the information-seeking habits that long supported online forums.
At that moment, many wondered, "What is the future of social media and online discussion forums when people increasingly turn to AI instead of each other?"
That question warrants attention because the value of online communities depends on active participation. When fewer users post questions, share responses, or react to others, the foundational mechanisms of online forums—reciprocity, belongingness, narratives of shared experience—become weaker. If a user can ask an AI privately and immediately, the incentive to engage publicly changes.
A recent report by Anthropic warns that AI models can exhibit “natural emergent misalignment,” including reward hacking—where systems learn to game feedback signals in ways humans did not intend. It’s a timely reminder that AI can sound empathetic and coherent without having lived experience or genuine understanding.
However, one of the crucial aspects of a supportive response from a peer is the presence of personal narratives and lived experiences. A systematic review noted that young people in online communities seek both informational and emotional support through stories of peers who have faced similar challenges. This suggests that narrative exchange is not simply transactional—it works when users engage as part of a community of peers, not as isolated speakers into the void.
By contrast, AI lacks lived experience. It can simulate empathy, but it cannot draw from a personal story.
In our research comparing AI-generated responses with peer responses in online communities, AI’s language was more formal, structured, and polite, but it rarely used first-person pronouns (which signal personal narratives).
Even when an AI’s replies appear personalized, they show limited diversity. Across many queries, the AI often reuses the same templates with minor variations. Online communities, in contrast, produce a range of viewpoints. Even a single question elicits diverse stories and perspectives from multiple individuals.
In a new study of teens' use of AI, results show more than 70% of teens have used AI companions, with one-third discussing serious personal issues with them rather than people.
Another survey found that 58% of users think that ChatGPT is “too nice,” and argue that the lack of realistic push-back undermines authenticity. These point to a tension: on the one hand, convenience and immediacy win; on the other, authenticity and narrative connection may suffer.
So what is at stake?
The forms of online social life are evolving. Large general-purpose platforms that once relied on high-volume question-and-answer interactions may see that function increasingly handled by AI. Participation may decline, not because people stop connecting, but because their first step becomes private and AI-mediated.
In that scenario, online community spaces may become more selective, more identity-driven, and oriented toward authentic human experience rather than mechanical problem-solving.
At the same time, platforms may adapt. Many already integrate AI to moderate content, summarize discussions, or help users articulate questions. In the future, AI may become part of the community infrastructure—filtering, guiding, even prompting human interaction, rather than replacing it.
The enduring value will be human presence: the voices of people who have lived the story, the shared recognition of someone else’s struggle, the sense of belonging created when users see that others have walked the same difficult path.
The future of social media, therefore, depends on which interactions people continue to value. Efficiency and convenience will not alone sustain the community. The presence of narratives rooted in human experience, and the recognition that someone else has faced a similar challenge, are what give forums their emotional traction. As AI becomes a more capable first responder, the discussion spaces that thrive will be those that prioritize experience, connection, and mutuality over instant answers.
In this emerging online and digital era, the question is not only whether people will use AI alongside communities—they already do. The more pressing question is how many choose AI instead of online (or offline) communities. The answer will determine not simply which platforms survive, but what form meaningful online connection takes in the years ahead.
The question then becomes, do people really need people?
Dr. Koustuv Saha is an Assistant Professor of Computer Science at the University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign’s (UIUC) Siebel School of Computing and Data Science and is a Public Voices Fellow of The OpEd Project. He studies how online technologies and AI shape and reveal human behaviors and wellbeing.
AI may disrupt the workplace, but with smart investment in workforce transitions and innovation, the economy can bend without breaking—unlocking growth and new opportunities.
Everyone has a stake in keeping the unemployment rate low. A single percentage point increase in unemployment is tied to a jump in the poverty rate of about 0.4 to 0.7 percentage points. Higher rates of unemployment are likewise associated with an increase in rates of depression among the unemployed and, in some cases, reduced mental health among their family members. Based on that finding, it's unsurprising that higher rates of unemployment are also correlated with higher rates of divorce. Finally, and somewhat obviously, unemployment leads to a surge in social safety spending. Everyone benefits when more folks have meaningful, high-paying work.
That’s why everyone needs to pay attention to the very real possibility that AI will lead to at least a temporary surge in unemployment. Economists vary in their estimates of how AI will lead to displacement. Gather three economists together, and they’ll probably offer nine different predictions—they’ll tell you that AI is advancing at different rates in different fields, that professions vary in their willingness to adopt AI, and that a shifting regulatory framework is likely to diminish AI use in some sectors. And, of course, they’re right!
Given that we all have a stake in navigating this uncertain unemployment picture, we need to lean into a bend, but don’t break economy: one in which AI is accepted as a driver of innovation, as well as a disruptor of the status quo, but not a destroyer of economic well-being and opportunity. AI, like waves of prior technology, can spur the sort of productivity gains that are associated with economic growth that benefits us all. A brief by the Penn Wharton Budget Model forecasts productivity gains and related increases in GDP of 1.5% by 2035 and around 3% by 2055.
While GDP is not a measure of human well-being nor economic security among the public, it’s a signal of growth and economic opportunity that at least presents us with the opportunity to invest more in our communities, institutions, and innovators. Those eager to put AI back in the bottle risk depriving Americans of the chance to help build the future by learning new skills and starting new ventures. As summarized by Robert D. Atkinson, “Without productivity growth to create a ‘bigger pie’ there is no way for living standards to increase, especially given that the worker-to-retiree ratio will decline over the next two decades as baby boomers retire.”
The key is that we invest more in the transition period between the jobs of today and those of tomorrow. Our track record on this front is sorely lacking. Retraining programs tend not to lead to long-term increases in earnings. Focused on helping displaced workers find “in-demand” jobs, these programs are more focused on the immediate needs of employers rather than the future well-being of the employee. For example, many programs direct participants into low-wage, high-turnover roles such as certified nursing assistant positions and long-haul trucking.
A clearer, more reliable path toward economic security in the Age of AI is necessary so that people do not fear technology but rather embrace it and the growth it may bring about. A few policy proposals can move us in that direction. For one, we should replicate and scale up the Investing in Manufacturing Communities Partnership (IMCP) program. This effort may have saved more than 1,000 jobs through investments in novel projects across the country. A similar approach—private-public efforts that invest in emerging opportunities in regional economic hubs—could be applied across several sectors.
Second, it's time to reauthorize and expand the Small Business Innovation Research and Small Business Technology Transfer programs. Developed as part of America's Seed Feed, these programs target U.S. small businesses as engines of innovation and new jobs. Over the course of 1995-2017, support for small businesses resulted in an average of 65,000 jobs per year. That’s an incredible record of success that deserves ongoing support.
In sum, fear-mongering about the economic disruptions posed by AI is at odds with historical precedent and is unproductive. “Historically,” based on research by the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD), “the income-generating effects of new technologies have proved more powerful than the labor-displacing effects: technological progress has been accompanied not only by higher output and productivity, but also by higher overall employment.” Speculative reports and exaggerated headlines deny this reality and undermine efforts to invest in transition programs.
The progress forecasted by the OECD will only be paired with societal progress if we take the creation of economic bridges seriously—let’s help people connect to the jobs of the future rather than rile them up in defense of the status quo.
Kevin Frazier is an AI Innovation and Law Fellow at Texas Law and author of the Appleseed AI substack.
As the U.S. retires the penny, this essay reflects on lost value—in currency, communication, and truth—highlighting the rising threat of misinformation and the need for real journalism.
232 years ago, the first penny was minted in the United States. And this November, the last pennies rolled off the line, the coin now out of production.
“A penny for your thoughts.” This common idiom, an invitation for another to share what’s on their mind, may go the way of the penny itself, into eventual obsolescence. There are increasingly few who really want to know what’s on anyone else’s mind, unless that mind is in sync with their own.
To discover what another is thinking and feeling would require us to put down our phones, stop watching “our feeds,” and give up espousing our views and justifying our opinions, at least long enough to actually listen to, or read, from reputable news sources.
It would also require empathy, which is in short supply lately.
One of the great ironies of our age is that although we are more connected, we are less so. Yet, communication is essential to human interaction. Its structural weave incorporates the mores and principles of a society, and it can even be a critical factor in the making or breaking of great movements and ages. Staying informed is essential to us personally and as a nation.
Monetary systems, like communication, are also necessary to modern civilization. The penny no longer makes sense, any more than returning to a primitive trade exchange does. Much as we might like to pay our dentist with a loaf of banana bread instead of a credit card, our complex financial world cannot accommodate such bartering. Yet, a vital monetary system and journalism as a means of communication are critical to our success as a country. The basis of both must be sound.
Since 1793, when pennies were first minted in the U.S., we’ve had a one-cent denomination. Then, of course, the value of a single cent was much higher and could buy much more. The first pennies, large coins called Lady Liberties, were of pure copper. One such coin in “mint” condition is worth millions of dollars today.
So, too, is the increased worth of the principles of that nascent age, when our country was discovering its values and forging its future. Striving to incorporate intrinsic concepts of truth, as well as ensuring our liberty to express ourselves, were powerful components in formulating our democracy.
The now-novel altruistic idea of politics as public service was prevalent in that bygone age. The first leader of our nation did not want to be a king. Washington accepted the presidency only as it incorporated a balance of power, with the legislative and judicial branches equal to the executive.
Who hasn’t been ambushed, when turning on the morning news, by an onslaught of the latest projectiles from our tweeting current president’s favored platform, “Truth Social?” But, is it “truth,” or opinion, or hyperbole? And isn’t “social” a misnomer, unless it refers to a party of just one, or possibly a group of far-right devotees? This is not communication; it’s ranting.
Nostalgic as we may be for ethical journalism and verified sources, we cannot go backwards and deny the effects of social media and its pervasiveness in our culture. Need proof? Where else can “Surfer Girl” meet “Beach Boy” and they both reside in Iowa? True story, and they’re now married.
Too often, opinions are presented as facts and hidden in anonymity. Communication nose-dives when laced with threats, or is simply a drivel of personal beliefs and conspiracy theories, or worst of all, overtly radical. According to social scientists, those caught in this net of light-speed communication, especially younger people who have not yet learned the idea of dissection before dissemination, are experiencing increased radicalization. Discretion is essential.
“Just the facts, ma’am,” is not only a catchphrase from the television series “Dragnet.” True journalism, the “fourth and unregulated branch of our government,” strives to report verifiable facts and emphasizes fair reporting. Editors, fact-checkers, and readers scrutinize a “story” to make certain it is accurate. Plus, journalists are accountable for what they write or say. Those who publish erroneous news are eventually exposed, their work devalued as “not worth the paper it was written on.”
There are many reputable news organizations in existence (you are currently reading a piece in one.) But we now live in a digital age, and publication is as easy as hitting “send.” Thus, rumors, innuendos, falsehoods, and exaggerations fly about as freely as drones in our skies, hurled like flaming spears into media feeds.
So much of today’s so-called “reporting” is divisive, derogatory, and even dangerous. And not worth even today’s penny.
Whereas good journalism is verifiable, informative, and aspires to be engaging and enlightening, and very often is. It is priceless.
Amy Lockard is an Iowa resident who regularly contributes to regional newspapers and periodicals. She is working on the second of a four-book fictional series based on Jane Austen’s “Pride and Prejudice."
Journalist and Political Junkie Ken Rudin
