Skip to content
Search

Latest Stories

Top Stories

Our troops deserve the chance to take the first big shot at voting online

U.S. soldiers in Germany

More than 200,000 troops are stationed overseas — including these soldiers in Germany — but only 7 percent of our eligible military and overseas voters cast ballots.

Lennart Preiss/Getty Images
Interiano is head of government relations at Aurora Innovation Inc., which makes software to operate self-driving vehicles, and an advisor to Voatz Inc., which makes a mobile voting app.

The promise of technology, like almost everything this year, has become more polarized.

Still, there's reason to be hopeful. Working in the technology industry, I certainly have my biases. The outsized impact of technology on the way isolated or distant communities can interact with the world colors my every view.

It allows individuals globally to foster real-time connections — the true potential of which we've seen, as never before, in the six months since the coronavirus compelled most business and personal communication to become remote. And it empowers disabled individuals to live more independent and full lives. I'm currently working on self-driving cars, and I'm excited about how the technology will help expand the mobility of the elderly and visually impaired.

To me, the unifying thread of the adoption of technology is access: facilitating activities and engagement that were previously impossible.

The explosion of technology-driven options driven by the pandemic promises to level the playing field for many types of individuals, and we are just starting to tap its potential.

With so many of us relying on technology today to connect with our families, conduct touchless financial transactions and educate our children, it's surprising there is so little faith in technology when it comes to elections.

I understand the apprehension. But we have to acknowledge our great democracy has significant blind spots and gaps — and many voters have limited access to their ballots. First on the list are a group of voters we cannot afford to leave voiceless: those risking their lives around the world to protect our freedom and our great democracy.

More than 200,000 troops are stationed overseas across four continents, serving Americans and our interests. All the arguments against integrating technology into our election don't seem to take into proper account this reality: The options they currently have for exercising the franchise — using the mail, a fax machine or their email — are all vulnerable to the risks that have been solely ascribed to new, online technology. Election officials are able to identify who submitted a ballot, and that leaves our people in uniform without a private ballot or a secure way to anonymously vote.

Traditionally, we rely on our overseas Americans' ability to cast ballots by mail. But in the middle of a pandemic, where mail was not being delivered to the United States from more than 70 countries as of the end of July, filling out a ballot may be more a symbolic gesture than something that actually affects the races for president, Congress and the statehouses.

It's little wonder that, even with only the obstacles in place before the Covid-19 outbreak, only 7 percent of our eligible military and overseas voters vote. And that compares to roughly 60 percent turnout of eligible voters back home. When so many issues on the ballot can have an outsized impact on their lives, this number is representative of a failure.

There's resistance — from cybersecurity researchers and vote-by-mail advocates — to using new technology that allows private, secure access to elections for our overseas military and citizens, arguing that the risks of hacking or failure are too high. When you view the current ways that they are voting (or, in the case of international mail, not voting) can we really argue that the security and privacy around the status quo is any better?

There's evidence that these technologies work, are secure and are welcomed by the communities that they serve. West Virginia is a prime example. Two years ago it pioneered platforms that allow their men and women overseas to vote on their mobile phones. Another is Utah, a vote-by-mail state, that uses app-based voting for military personnel and people with disabilities.

I'm not advocating for the rapid adoption of this new technology to the general public. This is too critical for that. What I'm advocating for is to implement advanced, up-to-date technologies used in most recent pilots to provide markedly better options to vote than by email or fax. We are already using smartphone technology, in most of our critical work including national security.

Now is the time to deploy advanced technology to identify, and then close any gaps, for groups of people abroad who qualify under federal law to return ballots through email and fax.

Such a step is how we will build a stronger electoral system that ensures access to voting for those who need it the most. This is how technology marches forward for social good. With purpose and strategy, with careful tests and ongoing experimentation, followed by a thoughtful implementation for the most disenfranchised.

Not doing so shuts out people who need a voice at the ballot booth, especially this year.

Read More

news app
New platforms help overcome biased news reporting
Tero Vesalainen/Getty Images

The Selective Sanctity of Death: When Empathy Depends on Skin Color

Rampant calls to avoid sharing the video of Charlie Kirk’s death have been swift and emphatic across social media. “We need to keep our souls clean,” journalists plead. “Where are social media’s content moderators?” “How did we get so desensitized?” The moral outrage is palpable; the demands for human dignity urgent and clear.

But as a Black woman who has been forced to witness the constant virality of Black death, I must ask: where was this widespread anger for George Floyd? For Philando Castile? For Daunte Wright? For Tyre Nichols?

Keep ReadingShow less
Following Jefferson: Promoting Inter-Generational Understanding Through Constitution-Making
Mount Rushmore
Photo by John Bakator on Unsplash

Following Jefferson: Promoting Inter-Generational Understanding Through Constitution-Making

No one can denounce the New York Yankee fan for boasting that her favorite ballclub has won more World Series championships than any other. At 27 titles, the Bronx Bombers claim more than twice their closest competitor.

No one can question admirers of the late, great Chick Corea, or the equally astonishing Alison Krauss, for their virtually unrivaled Grammy victories. At 27 gold statues, only Beyoncé and Quincy Jones have more in the popular categories.

Keep ReadingShow less
A close up of the Immigration and Customs Enforcement badge.

Trump’s mass deportations promise security but deliver economic pain, family separation, and chaos. Here’s why this policy is failing America.

Getty Images, Tennessee Witney

The Cruel Arithmetic of Trump’s Immigration Crackdown

As summer 2025 winds down, the Trump administration’s deportation machine is operating at full throttle—removing over one million people in six months and fulfilling a campaign promise to launch the “largest deportation operation in American history.” For supporters, this is a victory lap for law and order. For the rest of the lot, it’s a costly illusion—one that trades complexity for spectacle and security for chaos.

Let’s dispense with the fantasy first. The administration insists that mass deportations will save billions, reduce crime, and protect American jobs. But like most political magic tricks, the numbers vanish under scrutiny. The Economic Policy Institute warns that this policy could destroy millions of jobs—not just for immigrants but for U.S.-born workers in sectors like construction, elder care, and child care. That’s not just a fiscal cliff—it is fewer teachers, fewer caregivers, and fewer homes built. It is inflation with a human face. In fact, child care alone could shrink by over 15%, leaving working parents stranded and employers scrambling.

Meanwhile, the Peterson Institute projects a drop in GDP and employment, while the Penn Wharton School’s Budget Model estimates that deporting unauthorized workers over a decade would slash Social Security revenue and inflate deficits by nearly $900 billion. That’s not a typo. It’s a fiscal cliff dressed up as border security.

And then there’s food. Deporting farmworkers doesn’t just leave fields fallow—it drives up prices. Analysts predict a 10% spike in food costs, compounding inflation and squeezing families already living paycheck to paycheck. In California, where immigrant renters are disproportionately affected, eviction rates are climbing. The Urban Institute warns that deportations are deepening the housing crisis by gutting the construction workforce. So much for protecting American livelihoods.

But the real cost isn’t measured in dollars. It’s measured in broken families, empty classrooms, and quiet despair. The administration has deployed 10,000 armed service members to the border and ramped up “self-deportation” tactics—policies so harsh they force people to leave voluntarily. The result: Children skipping meals because their parents fear applying for food assistance; Cancer patients deported mid-treatment; and LGBTQ+ youth losing access to mental health care. The Human Rights Watch calls it a “crueler world for immigrants.” That’s putting it mildly.

This isn’t targeted enforcement. It’s a dragnet. Green card holders, long-term residents, and asylum seekers are swept up alongside undocumented workers. Viral videos show ICE raids at schools, hospitals, and churches. Lawsuits are piling up. And the chilling effect is real: immigrant communities are retreating from public life, afraid to report crimes or seek help. That’s not safety. That’s silence. Legal scholars warn that the administration’s tactics—raids at schools, churches, and hospitals—may violate Fourth Amendment protections and due process norms.

Even the administration’s security claims are shaky. Yes, border crossings are down—by about 60%, thanks to policies like “Remain in Mexico.” But deportation numbers haven’t met the promised scale. The Migration Policy Institute notes that monthly averages hover around 14,500, far below the millions touted. And the root causes of undocumented immigration—like visa overstays, which account for 60% of cases—remain untouched.

Crime reduction? Also murky. FBI data shows declines in some areas, but experts attribute this more to economic trends than immigration enforcement. In fact, fear in immigrant communities may be making things worse. When people won’t talk to the police, crimes go unreported. That’s not justice. That’s dysfunction.

Public opinion is catching up. In February, 59% of Americans supported mass deportations. By July, that number had cratered. Gallup reports a 25-point drop in favor of immigration cuts. The Pew Research Center finds that 75% of Democrats—and a growing number of independents—think the policy goes too far. Even Trump-friendly voices like Joe Rogan are balking, calling raids on “construction workers and gardeners” a betrayal of common sense.

On social media, the backlash is swift. Users on X (formerly Twitter) call the policy “ineffective,” “manipulative,” and “theater.” And they’re not wrong. This isn’t about solving immigration. It’s about staging a show—one where fear plays the villain and facts are the understudy.

The White House insists this is what voters wanted. But a narrow electoral win isn’t a blank check for policies that harm the economy and fray the social fabric. Alternatives exist: Targeted enforcement focused on violent offenders; visa reform to address overstays; and legal pathways to fill labor gaps. These aren’t radical ideas—they’re pragmatic ones. And they don’t require tearing families apart to work.

Trump’s deportation blitz is a mirage. It promises safety but delivers instability. It claims to protect jobs but undermines the very sectors that keep the country running. It speaks the language of law and order but acts with the recklessness of a demolition crew. Alternatives exist—and they work. Cities that focus on community policing and legal pathways report higher public safety and stronger economies. Reform doesn’t require cruelty. It requires courage.

Keep ReadingShow less
Multi-colored speech bubbles overlapping.

Stanford’s Strengthening Democracy Challenge shows a key way to reduce political violence: reveal that most Americans reject it.

Getty Images, MirageC

In the Aftermath of Assassinations, Let’s Show That Americans Overwhelmingly Disapprove of Political Violence

In the aftermath of Charlie Kirk’s assassination—and the assassination of Minnesota state legislator Melissa Hortman only three months ago—questions inevitably arise about how to reduce the likelihood of similar heinous actions.

Results from arguably the most important study focused on the U.S. context, the Strengthening Democracy Challenge run by Stanford University, point to one straightforward answer: show people that very few in the other party support political violence. This approach has been shown to reduce support for political violence.

Keep ReadingShow less