Robert F. Kennedy Jr. won applause at the Libertarian National Convention by criticizing government lockdowns and deficit spending, and saying America shouldn't police the world.

It made me want to interview him. This month, I did.

He said intelligent things about America's growing debt:

"President Trump said that he was going to balance the budget and instead he (increased the debt more) than every president in United States history—$8 trillion. President Biden is on track now to beat him."

It's good to hear a candidate actually talk about our debt.

"When the debt is this large…you have to cut dramatically, and I'm going to do that," he says.

But looking at his campaign promises, I don't see it.

He promises "affordable" housing via a federal program backing 3 percent mortgages.

"Imagine that you had a rich uncle who was willing to cosign your mortgage!" gushes his campaign ad. "I'm going to make Uncle Sam that rich uncle!"

I point out that such giveaways won't reduce our debt.

"That's not a giveaway," Kennedy replies. "Every dollar that I spend as president is going to go toward building our economy."

That's big government nonsense, like his other claim: "Every million dollars we spend on child care creates 22 jobs!"

Give me a break.

When I pressed him about specific cuts, Kennedy says, "I'll cut the military in half…cut it to about $500 billion….We are not the policemen of the world."

"Stop giving any money to Ukraine?" I ask.

"Negotiate a peace," Kennedy replies. "Biden has never talked to Putin about this, and it's criminal."

He never answered whether he'd give money to Ukraine. He did answer about Israel.

"Yes, of course we should,"

"[Since] you don't want to cut this spending, what would you cut?"

"Israel spending is rather minor," he responds. "I'm going to pick the most wasteful programs, put them all in one bill, and send them to Congress with an up and down vote."

Of course, Congress would just vote it down.

Kennedy's proposed cuts would hardly slow down our path to bankruptcy. Especially since he also wants new spending that activists pretend will reduce climate change.

At a concert years ago, he smeared "crisis" skeptics like me, who believe we can adjust to climate change, screaming at the audience, "Next time you see John Stossel and [others]… these flat-earthers, these corporate toadies—lying to you. This is treason, and we need to start treating them now as traitors!"

Now, sitting with him, I ask, "You want to have me executed for treason?"

"That statement," he replies, "it's not a statement that I would make today….Climate is existential. I think it's human-caused climate change. But I don't insist other people believe that. I'm arguing for free markets and then the lowest cost providers should prevail in the marketplace….We should end all subsidies and let the market dictate."

That sounds good: "Let the market dictate."

But wait, Kennedy makes money from solar farms backed by government guaranteed loans. He "leaned on his contacts in the Obama administration to secure a $1.6 billion loan guarantee," wrote The New York Times.

"Why should you get a government subsidy?" I ask.

"If you're creating a new industry," he replies, "you're competing with the Chinese. You want the United States to own pieces of that industry."

I suppose that means his government would subsidize every industry leftists like.

Yet when a wind farm company proposed building one near his family's home, he opposed it.

"Seems hypocritical," I say.

"We're exterminating the right whale in the North Atlantic through these wind farms!" he replies.

I think he was more honest years ago, when he complained that "turbines…would be seen from Cape Cod, Martha's Vineyard… Nantucket….[They] will steal the stars and nighttime views."

Kennedy was once a Democrat, but now Democrats sue to keep him off ballots. Former Clinton Labor Secretary Robert Reich calls him a "dangerous nutcase."

Kennedy complains that Reich won't debate him.

"Nobody will," he says. "They won't have me on any of their networks."

Well, obviously, I will.

I especially wanted to confront him about vaccines.

In a future column, Stossel TV will post more from our hourlong discussion.

COPYRIGHT 2024 BY JFS PRODUCTIONS INC.

The post RFK Jr. Pays Lip Service to the Debt While Pushing Policies That Would Increase It appeared first on Reason.com.

You can add the Internal Revenue Service to the ranks of federal agencies conceding that raining taxpayer money on all and sundry to offset the negative effects of pandemic-era closures didn't go as well as intended. Not only was a program meant to offset the cost of paying workers during lockdowns and voluntary social-distancing prone to being gamed, but the "vast majority" of claims submitted to the program show evidence of being fraudulent.

The Tax Man Is Shocked To Discover Fraudsters

In the course of a detailed review of the Employee Retention Credit, "the IRS identified between 10% and 20% of claims fall into what the agency has determined to be the highest-risk group, which show clear signs of being erroneous claims for the pandemic-era credit," the IRS announced June 20. "In addition to this highest risk group, the IRS analysis also estimates between 60% and 70% of the claims show an unacceptable level of risk."

The Employee Retention Credit was offered to businesses that were shut down by government COVID-19 orders in 2020 or the first three quarters of 2021, experienced a required decline in gross receipts during that period, or qualified as a recovery startup business at the end of 2021. But it was clear early on that scammers were taking advantage of giveaways of taxpayer money, either to claim it for themselves or to pose as middlemen helping unwitting business owners file claims.

In March of 2023, the tax agency warned of "blatant attempts by promoters to con ineligible people to claim the credit." In September of that year, it stopped processing claims amidst growing evidence that vast numbers of applications were "improper," as the IRS delicately puts it. In March 2024, the agency announced that its Voluntary Disclosure Program had recovered $1 billion (since raised to over $2 billion) in improper payouts from participants who got to keep 20 percent of the take.

Ultimately, only "between 10% and 20% of the ERC claims show a low risk" for fraud, even by generous federal standards for throwing other people's money at problems largely of government creation.

"We will now use this information to deny billions of dollars in clearly improper claims and begin additional work to issue payments to help taxpayers without any red flags on their claims," commented IRS Commissioner Danny Werfel.

As of the end of May, the IRS "has initiated 450 criminal cases, with potentially fraudulent claims worth nearly $7 billion."

There's More Fraud Where That Came From

Of course, this is only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to pandemic stimulus fraud.

In April, Attorney General Merrick Garland boasted that the COVID-19 Fraud Enforcement Task Force (yes, it's widespread enough to rate its own task force) had "charged more than 3,500 defendants, seized or forfeited over $1.4 billion in stolen COVID-19 relief funds, and filed more than 400 civil lawsuits resulting in court judgements and settlements."

Strong work. But the various pandemic stimulus bills tallied up to trillions of dollars. And a lot more than a few billion ended up in the hands of grifters.

"The total amount of fraud across all UI [unemployment insurance] programs (including the new emergency programs) during the COVID-19 pandemic was likely between $100 billion and $135 billion—or 11% to 15% of the total UI benefits paid out during the pandemic," the Government Accountability Office warned last September.

Earlier, the Small Business Administration's Inspector General found more than $200 billion stolen from the Economic Injury Disaster Loan (EIDL) program and Paycheck Protection Program (PPP). "This means at least 17 percent of all COVID-19 EIDL and PPP funds were disbursed to potentially fraudulent actors," noted the report.

With between 70 percent and 90 percent of claims for the Employee Retention Credit identified as likely scams, either the IRS is a stand-out magnet for grifters or other agencies need to return to their own investigations with a somewhat more skeptical eye.

Stimulus Fueled Inflation as Well as Fraud

It's maddening enough that the federal government is handing out vast sums of money to con artists. But Americans are contending with a 2024 economy in which the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics' own inflation calculator finds that it takes $124.77 to purchase what $100 bought in 2019, before anybody heard of COVID-19. Federal stimulus programs are directly to blame for much of that inflationary slippage in the dollar's buying power.

"U.S. fiscal stimulus during the pandemic contributed to an increase in inflation of about 2.6 percentage points in the U.S.," three economists with the Federal Reserve Bank of St. Louis estimated last year. The reason, they said, was that governments "injected large amounts of money into the economy"—money created from thin air to artificially pump up the economy.

"Inflation comes when aggregate demand exceeds aggregate supply," agreed economist John Cochrane of the Hoover Institution and the Cato Institute in a March piece for the International Monetary Fund. "The source of demand is not hard to find: in response to the pandemic's dislocations, the US government sent about $5 trillion in checks to people and businesses, $3 trillion of it newly printed money, with no plans for repayment."

Officials justified the stimulus as a necessary evil to offset economic collapse from often-mandatory pandemic closures by keeping demand flowing with government checks. After conceding that stimulus fueled inflation, the St. Louis Federal Reserve economists argued that massive spending likely prevented "worse outcomes despite the price pressures that may have resulted from the spending."

But officials could have refrained from issuing closure orders so the economy could function without mandated disruptions. That would have made the creation of trillions of dollars from thin air and its distribution around the country entirely beside the point. Then, grifters wouldn't have opportunity to scam hundreds of billions of dollars out of federal agencies, including the IRS.

It's nice that the IRS, like other federal agencies, is catching up with the vast fraud it enabled. But it would be better if government officials weren't constantly addressing problems they created.

The post 'Vast Majority' of Pandemic Employee Retention Credit Claims Are Likely Scams, Says IRS appeared first on Reason.com.

Pastor Joshua Robertson didn't set out to become a leader in the educational freedom movement, but when his community called, he answered.

It was several calls, in fact. In spring 2020, Robertson's phone wouldn't stop ringing. "I was receiving 40–50 calls from parents every single day," says Robertson, the senior pastor of The Rock Church in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania.

These were the early days of the COVID-19 lockdowns. The move to remote learning gave parents a closer look at their children's schooling—and they didn't like what they saw.

"All these parents were venting about the school system," Robertson recalls. "They would say to me, 'My kid is smart. I can't understand why they're not doing well academically.' Then throw in the violence in our schools. You're talking about kids who are in fistfights every other day." 

Feeling hopeless, the parents turned to a different kind of teacher.

Turning Point

Our education system has significant problems, and Robertson knows it is especially tough on children in under-resourced communities like the one he serves. He had experienced the system's failures firsthand: Robertson graduated from high school without knowing how to read properly.

Robertson went to college to play football but flunked out his freshman year.

Before failing out, Robertson befriended a bishop while playing organ at a local church. But without school or sports to occupy him, he fell into a dangerous lifestyle, surrounding himself with unsavory characters and illicit behavior. As if he sensed the need to intervene from hundreds of miles away, the bishop called Robertson in the middle of one such indiscretion.

"You're about to ruin your life, aren't you?" the bishop asked. He pleaded with Robertson to come to see him. Robertson went, and the bishop enrolled them both in the local community college. The two sat side by side doing schoolwork together. 

"In less than a week, he saw that I couldn't read," Robertson says. "It's amazing—you can attend twelve years of school, and no one notices that you can't read. But, because the bishop took the time to sit with me, he saw it right away. And over the next year, he sat with me day after day and taught me to read."

The man who flunked out of college because he couldn't read went on to earn both a bachelor's and a master's degree.

When the System Fails Children

"I was failed by a system, not just by a teacher," Robertson explains. "I had a few teachers who cared. But every system has gaps. And I fell into a gap."

Many educators assumed he had behavioral issues. "I was kicked out of every elementary school I ever went to," Robertson says. "What people didn't realize was that my behavior covered up my reading problems. In fifth grade, I got in trouble for hitting a kid in class. I hit him to create a diversion. The teacher was having students read aloud, and I had a feeling she was about to call on me to read."

This behavior is common among students who are left behind by the system. "They'll do something mischievous because they'd rather take the disciplinary consequence than be embarrassed in front of the whole class." Robertson says students who aren't learning well enough at school often lack any support at home, which leads to them getting into worse situations. 

"They have an industry right outside their door where they can make money—the drug industry," says Robertson. "It's right on their block. I knew where people were cooking crack when I was 10 or 11 years old."

Robertson says this is where the school-to-prison pipeline begins. So he has given himself a mission: "We're trying to cut off that pipeline."

From Failure to Flourishing

Parent after parent asked him the same question: "Can my kids come to the church?" 

The pastor's first thought was, "Come here for what?" Then Robertson remembered what the bishop had done for him years earlier.

"He inconvenienced his entire life in order to help me," Robertson says.

One church member had lost her job because of the pandemic, and Robertson realized she could help students with homework and provide other programming. "We took a risk and hired her," he says. "We had the facilities already with our Sunday school classrooms."

Six students from the local school district began coming to the church to do their online learning. The newly hired learning guide helped them with their homework and ensured the students sat at their computers with the cameras on when they had live lessons.

Word spread in the community. Demand continued to grow, even after schools returned to in-person classes. And so, in 2021, the Rock City Learning Center (RCLC) was born. 

During the 2021–22 school year, the RCLC served 30 students—29 of whom were failing academically. By the end of the school year, 10 students finished with an average of 90 or higher across all subjects, 12 achieved an average of 80 or higher, and six finished at 70 or higher.

The following year, RCLC students saw even more significant gains. About 90 percent of the students finished with an average of at least 70, and more than half scored 90 or better.

The learning center filled in the gaps left by the system, and students who were failing are now flourishing.

A Model for Others

"These kids need an intervention—a disruption to the aspects of our schools that limit their ability to offer effective education for all students," says Robertson.

The RCLC prioritizes the student. Students receive their instruction and curriculum from an accredited public cyber charter school. They work in small pods and receive coaching from trained learning guides.

Robertson believes that the RCLC's real innovation lies in the "convergence of the academic community and the community at large." The learning guides are not educators; they are "members of the community who love our children." They provide support that extends beyond academics, customizing the experience for for each student.

When students get the support they need, they thrive. "It's incredible the confidence you see in a kid when they're loved, supported, and disciplined," Robertson says. "They understand…they're in a place that cares about them and their specific needs, challenges, and talents."

Robertson founded Black Pastors United for Education (BPUE) to help others replicate the RCLC model. Harrisburg now has three learning centers, and another opened in nearby York. BPUE was a Yass Prize finalist—a prize that honors organizations delivering "Sustainable, Transformational, Outstanding, and Permissionless education"—and received a $500,000 grant to continue advancing its work.

Fighting for Educational Freedom

In June, Pennsylvania's Democrat-controlled House of Representatives passed a bill that would cut funding to charter schools. Robertson is fighting against this effort and notes that Pennsylvania's charter schools "serve a higher percentage of low-income and nonwhite students than traditional school districts." If the bill becomes law, the hardest-hit schools would be the cyber charter schools where the RCLC students enroll.

Another goal of Roberston's political fight is a proposal for Lifeline Scholarships. This program would award restricted-use scholarship accounts to students attending Pennsylvania's lowest-performing schools. In 2023, Pennsylvania Democratic Gov. Josh Shapiro backed out of a budget deal that would have provided $100 million for Lifeline Scholarships.

On June 10, Robertson and nearly 60 other pastors and educators signed an open letter to Shapiro and the state's legislative leadership. The letter called on the leaders to oppose cuts to cyber charter schools and enact Lifeline Scholarships.

The next day, Roberston led a rally for educational freedom in the state Capitol. He also published an op-ed pleading with Shapiro to invest in educational freedom. "Today, a child's zip code determines whether she can read or perform basic math," wrote Robertson. "And this is simply unacceptable."

It has been a long journey for the pastor—from flunking out of college to leading this fight for educational freedom. Looking back on his experience, he says, "The bishop started with one person: me. And that one person he made an investment in is now making this investment in others. That's how it's supposed to work, right?"

The post A Pennsylvania Pastor Leads His Community's Fight for Educational Freedom appeared first on Reason.com.

Congressional Budget Office (CBO) projections provide valuable insights into how a big chunk of your income is being spent and reveal the long-term consequences of our government's current fiscal policies—you may endure them, and your children most certainly will. Yet, like most other projections looking into our future, these numbers should be taken with a grain of salt. So should claims that CBO projections validate anyone's fiscal track record.

So much can and likely will happen to make projections moot and our fiscal outlook much grimmer. Unforeseen events, economic changes, and policy decisions render them less accurate over time. The CBO knows this and recently released alternative scenarios based on different sets of assumptions, and it doesn't look good. It remains a wonder that more politicians, now given a more realistic range of possibilities, aren't behaving like it.

First, let's recap what the situation looks like under the usual rosy growth, inflation, and interest rate assumptions. Due to continued overspending, this year's deficit will be at least $1.6 trillion, rising to $2.6 trillion by 2034. Debt held by the public equals roughly 99 percent of our economy—measured by gross domestic product (GDP)—annually, heading to 116 percent in 2034.

The only reason these numbers won't be as high as projected last year is that a few House Republicans fought hard to impose some spending caps during the debt ceiling debate. The long-term outlook is even scarier, with public debt reaching 166 percent of GDP in 30 years and all federal debt reaching 180 percent.

No one should be surprised. To be sure, the COVID-19 pandemic and the Great Recession made things worse, but we've been on this path for decades.

Unfortunately, if any of the assumptions underlying these projections change again, things will get a lot worse. That's where the CBO's alternative paths help. Policymakers and the public can better see the potential risks and opportunities associated with various fiscal policy choices, enabling them to make more informed decisions.

For instance, the CBO highlights that if the labor force grows annually by just 0.1 fewer percentage points than originally projected—even if the unemployment rate stays the same—slower economic growth will lead to a deficit $142 billion larger than baseline projections between 2025 and 2034. A similarly small slowdown in the productivity rate would lead to an added deficit of $304 billion over that period.

Back in 2020, the prevalent theory among those who claimed we shouldn't worry about debt was that interest rates were remarkably low and would stay low forever. As if. These guys have since learned what many of us have known for years: that interest rates can and will go up when the situation gets bad enough. So, what happens if rates continue to rise above and beyond those CBO used in its projections? Even a minuscule 0.1-point rise above the baseline would produce an additional $324 billion on the deficit over the 2025-2034 period.

The same is true with inflation, which, as every shopper can see, has yet to be defeated. If inflation, as I fear, doesn't go away as fast as predicted by CBO—largely because debt accumulation is continuing unabated—it will slow growth, increase interest rates, and massively expand the deficit. To be precise, an increase in overall prices of just 0.1 points over the CBO baseline would result in higher interest rates and a deficit of $263 billion more than projected.

Now, imagine all these variations from the current projections happening simultaneously. It's a real possibility. The deficit hike would be enormous, which could then trigger even more inflation and higher interest rates. The question that remains is: Why aren't politicians on both sides more worried than they seem to be?

What needs to happen before they finally decide to treat our fiscal situation as a real threat? President Joe Biden doesn't want to tackle the debt issue. In fact, he's actively adding to the debt with student loan forgiveness, subsidies to big businesses, and other nonsense. Meanwhile, some Republicans pay lip service to our financial crisis, but few are willing to tackle the real problem of entitlement spending.

The time for political posturing is over. The longer we wait to address these issues, the more severe the consequences will be for future generations. It's time for our leaders to prioritize the nation's long-term economic health over short-term political gains and take bold steps toward fiscal responsibility. Only then can we hope to secure a stable and prosperous future for all Americans.

COPYRIGHT 2024 CREATORS.COM.

The post The Congressional Budget Office's Alternative Scenarios Forecast a Dire Economic Picture appeared first on Reason.com.

In a recent essay in the journal Monash Bioethics Review, oncologist Vinay Prasad and health researcher Alyson Haslam provide a comprehensive after-the-fact assessment of the federal government's rollout of the COVID-19 vaccines.

Their basic takeaway is that the vaccines were a "scientific success" tarnished by flawed federal vaccine policy.

The two argue the tremendous benefits of the COVID-19 vaccines for the elderly were undercut by government guidance and messaging that pushed vaccines on the young, healthy, and previously infected when data suggested that wasn't worthwhile (and was in some cases counterproductive).

Worse still, the government even pushed vaccine mandates when it was increasingly clear the vaccines did not stop COVID-19 transmission, they argue.

To correct these errors for future pandemic responses, Prasad and Haslam recommend performing larger vaccine trials and collecting better data on vaccine performance in lower-risk populations. They also urge policy makers to be more willing to acknowledge the tradeoffs of vaccination.

That's sound advice. We'll have to wait and see if the government adopts it come the next pandemic.

There is one policy that they don't mention and doesn't totally depend on the government getting better at judging the risks of new vaccines: Charge people for them.

Had the government not provided COVID-19 vaccines for free and shielded vaccine makers and administrators from any liability for adverse reactions, prices could have better rationed vaccine supply and better informed people about their risks and benefits.

Without prices, people were instead left with flawed government recommendations, incentives, and rationing schemes.

Those who recall early 2021 will remember the complex, often transparently silly eligibility criteria state governments set up to ration scarce vaccine supplies. This often involved prioritizing younger, healthier, often politically connected "essential workers" over elderly people.

Prasad and Haslam criticize this as a government failure to prioritize groups at most risk of dying from COVID-19.

"While the UK prioritized nursing home residents and older individuals…the US included essential workers, including young, resident physicians," write Prasad and Haslam. "Health care workers face higher risks of acquiring the virus due to occupation (though this was and is offset by available personal protective equipment), but this was less than the elevated risk of death faced by older individuals."

Yet if the government hadn't assigned itself the role of distributing vaccines for free, it wouldn't have been forced into this position of rationing scarce vaccine supplies.

Demand for the vaccine is a function of the vaccine's price. Since the vaccine's price was $0, people who stood to gain comparatively less from vaccination and people for whom a vaccine would be lifesaving were equally incentivized to receive it.

Consequently, everyone rushed to get in line at the same time. The government then had to decide who got it first and predictably made flawed decisions.

Had vaccine makers been left to sell their product on an open market (instead of selling doses in bulk to the federal government to distribute for free), the elderly and those most at risk of COVID-19 would have been able to outbid people who could afford to wait longer. Perhaps more lives could have been saved.

Over the course of 2021, the supply of vaccines outgrew demand.

At the same time, as Prasad and Haslam recount, an increasing number of people (particularly young men) were developing myocarditis as a result of vaccination. Nevertheless, the government downplayed this risk, continued to urge younger populations to get vaccinated, and failed to collect data about the potential risks of vaccination.

That's all a failure of the government policy. Even if the government was slow to adjust its recommendations, prices could have played a constructive role in informing people about their own risk-reward tradeoff of getting vaccinated.

If a 20-year-old man who'd already had COVID-19 had to spend something to get vaccinated, instead of nothing, fewer would have. Prasad and Haslam argue that would have been the right call healthwise.

Without prices, that hypothetical 20-year-old's decision was informed mostly by government guidance, and, later, government mandates.

The government compounded this lack of prices by giving liability shields to vaccine makers. As it stands right now, no one is able to sue the maker of a COVID-19 vaccine should they have an adverse reaction. (Unlike standard, non-COVID vaccines, people are also not allowed to sue the government for compensation for the vaccine injuries.)

If pharmaceutical companies had to charge individual consumers to make money off their vaccines, and if those prices had to reflect the liability risks of the side effects some number of people would inevitably have, consumers would have been even better informed about the risks and rewards of vaccination.

One might counter that individual consumers aren't in a position to perform this risk-reward calculation on their own.

That ignores the ways that other intermediaries in a better position to evaluate the costs and benefits of vaccination could contribute to the price signals individuals would use to make their own decisions.

One could imagine an insurance company declining to cover COVID-19 vaccines for the aforementioned healthy 20-year-old while subsidizing their elderly customers to get the shot. (This is, of course, illegal right now. The Affordable Care Act requires most insurance plans to cover the costs of vaccination for everyone.)

Instead, the financial incentives that were attached to vaccination were another part of the federally subsidized vaccination campaign.

State Medicaid programs paid providers bonuses for the number of patients they vaccinated (regardless of how at risk of COVID-19 those patients were). State governments gave out gift cards to those who got vaccinated and entered them in lotteries to win even bigger prizes.

Leaving it up to private companies to produce and charge for vaccines would have one added benefit: It would make it much more difficult for the government to mandate vaccines or otherwise coerce people into getting them.

One of the things that made it easy for local and state governments to bar the unvaccinated from restaurants and schools was that they also had a lot of free, federally subsidized doses to give away. People didn't have a real "excuse" not to get a shot.

Had people been required to pay for vaccines, it would have been more awkward and much harder (politically and practically) to mandate that they do so.

Economist Alex Tabarrok likes to say that a "price is a signal wrapped up in an incentive." They signal crucial information and then incentivize people to act on that information in a rational, efficient way.

By divorcing COVID-19 vaccines from real price signals, we were left with an earnest, government-led vaccination effort. That effort got a lot of lifesaving vaccines to a lot of people.

But it also encouraged and subsidized people to get vaccinated when it was probably not a necessary or even good idea. When not enough people got vaccinated, governments turned to coercive mandates.

The post The COVID-19 Vaccines Shouldn't Have Been Free appeared first on Reason.com.

If you're looking for a political message in Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes, consider the following: The story begins "many generations" after the death of the previous reboot trilogy's hero, Caesar. Caesar was the first ape to speak, following the spread of a strange virus. Eventually, he became the leader of the apes in a war against the remnants of humanity. Caesar's teachings—apes should not kill each other, and apes are stronger together—have become quasi-religious dogma (ape-ma?) amongst the apes who live on in the post-apocalyptic world. 

But those beliefs have been perverted by an authoritarian sect run by Proximus, a strutting, vainglorious bonobo bent on unifying and dominating the fragmented ape clans into something greater. Proximus preaches strength and glory; it turns out the bonobos, like all men, are obsessed with Rome. But his footsoldiers massacre peaceful ape clans, and his murderous forces wear face coverings and are known as "masks." His whole kingdom appears to be built on personal whim and something resembling slavery. Talk about a banana republic. 

Masks, mad dictators, post-pandemic chaos, power fantasies of restoring Rome? Perhaps this is a story about Trump? About antifa? About revolution and empire? But no, not really. It's just a story about a bunch of animated monkeys fighting. 

The sociopolitical notions about an ape society built atop the ashes of human civilization are the most interesting concepts in Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes—and the least well-explored. Rather than dig in and engage with the story's fundamentally political underpinnings, the story is, instead, content to nod in their direction while pursuing a notably less thoughtful action-adventure story. 

The end result isn't bad: Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes is a solid enough summer blockbuster, with top-notch special effects and a family-friendly emotional core that most movies of this class lack. But what's frustrating is that the movie gestures at something much more interesting than what ends up on screen.  

The story starts with a trio of young chimpanzees who belong to a peaceful, idyllic clan devoted to the raising of eagles. But soon their village is attacked by masked-wearing outsiders, including a silverback brute named Sylva. Truly, it's gorilla warfare. 

Noa, the son of the eagle clan's leader, manages to escape. The movie then becomes a sort of road movie in which Noa must return to his tribe and free them from Proximus' authoritarian rule. Easy rider, raging apes. 

Noa is no Caesar, but he's a chimp off the old block: thoughtful, full of moral conviction, yearning to grow into something more. After the attack on his village, he runs into Raka, a wise old Orangutan who has studied Caesar's teachings, and who steals every scene he's in. The pair are soon joined by Mae, a human woman who initially appears to be a mute scavenger but turns out to be something more. All of this comes to a head when Mae and Noa reach Proximus' kingdom, which consists of a gigantic, rusted-out ship that's been beached near a massive, locked bunker that he believes holds tools that will make him more powerful. There's a sort of Mad Max parallel here, but with inquisitive monkeys instead of leather-clad car fiends; perhaps this picture should have been called Furious George. 

Proximus has been studying ancient Rome, with the help of Trevathan, an older human man (William H. Macy) who has accepted the notion that apes will rule the earth. Some of the movie's most interesting scenes involve Trevathan arguing with Mae about whether to accept ape dominion. But until the movie's final moments, it's not at all clear what Mae's alternative is, or why she even thinks there is an alternative. What is Mae even fighting for? Too much of the movie's worldbuilding is shuffled into what are effectively footnotes. 

What's left is a relatively simple narrative about a young ape struggling to free his clan and finding himself in the process. It's competently told, and the computer character animation is consistently excellent, with everything from wet fur to minor skin blemishes convincingly rendered. Yet that impressive level of detail doesn't extend to the story, which at two and a half hours long threatens to turn this into Kingdom of the Planet of Bored Apes.

In many ways, it's a relief that the movie doesn't really attempt to be a Trump-era political tract. (Remember the Gorilla Channel?) But I do wish the story had taken its own ideas about politics and civilizational conflict a little more seriously. The movie is fine, but simian swagger aside, it doesn't have much thematic heft; Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes amounts to little more than a couple hours of monkeying around.  

The post <i>Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes</i> Is Just a Lot of Monkeying Around appeared first on Reason.com.

President Joe Biden says, "I know how to make government work!"

You'd think he'd know. He's worked in government for 51 years.

But the truth is, no one can make government work.

Biden hasn't.

Look at the chaos at the border, our military's botched withdrawal from Afghanistan, the rising cost of living, our unsustainable record-high debt.

In my new video, economist Ed Stringham argues that no government can ever work well, because "even the best person can't implement change….The massive bureaucracy gets bigger and slower."

I learned that as a consumer reporter watching bureaucrats regulate business. Their rules usually made life worse for consumers.

Yet politicians want government to do more!

Remember the unveiling of Obamacare's website? Millions tried to sign up. The first day, only six got it to work.

Vice President Joe Biden made excuses: "Neither [Obama] and I are technology geeks."

Stringham points out, "If they can't design a basic simple website, how are they going to manage half the economy?"

While bureaucrats struggled with the Obamacare site, the private sector successfully created Uber and Lyft, platforms like iCloud, apps like Waze, smartwatches, etc.

The private sector creates things that work because it has to. If businesses don't serve customers well, they go out of business.

But government is a monopoly. It never goes out of business. With no competition, there's less pressure to improve.

Often good people join government. Some work as hard as workers in the private sector.

But not for long. Because the bureaucracy's incentives kill initiative.

If a government worker works hard, he might get a small raise. But he sits near others who earn the same pay and, thanks to archaic civil service rules, are unlikely to get fired even if they're late, lazy, or stupid.

Over time, that's demoralizing. Eventually government workers conclude, "Why try?"

In the private sector, workers must strive to make things better. If they don't, competitors will, and you might lose your job.

Governments never go out of business.

"Companies can only stay in business if they always keep their customer happy," Stringham points out. "Competition pushes us to be better. Government has no competition."

I push back.

"Politicians say, 'Voters can vote us out.'"

"With a free market," Stringham replies, "the consumer votes every single day with the dollar. Under politics, we have to wait four years."

It's another reason why, over time, government never works as well as the private sector.

Year after year, the Pentagon fails audits.

If a private company repeatedly does that, they get shut down. But government never gets shut down.

A Pentagon spokeswoman makes excuses: "We're working on improving our process. We certainly are learning each time."

They don't learn much. They still fail audits.

"It's like we're living in Groundhog Day," Stringham jokes.

When COVID-19 hit, politicians handed out almost $2 trillion in "rescue" funds. The Government Accountability Office says more than $100 billion were stolen.

"One woman bought a Bentley," laughs Stringham. "A father and son bought a luxury home."

At least Biden noticed the fraud. He announced, "We're going to make you pay back what you stole!

No. They will not. Biden's Fraud Enforcement Task Force has recovered only 1 percent of what was stolen.

Even without fraud, government makes money vanish. I've reported on my town's $2 million toilet in a park. When I confronted the parks commissioner, he said, "$2 million was a bargain! Today it would cost $3 million."

That's government work.

More recently, Biden proudly announced that government would create "500,000 [electric vehicle] charging stations."

After two years, they've built seven. Not 7,000. Just seven.

Over the same time, greedy, profit-seeking Amazon built 17,000.

"Privatize!" says Stringham. "Whenever we think something's important, question whether government should do it."

In Britain, government-owned Jaguar lost money year after year. Only when Britain sold the company to private investors did Jaguar start turning a profit selling cars people actually like.

When Sweden sold Absolut Vodka, the company increased its profits sixfold.

It's ridiculous for Biden to say, "I know how to make government work."

No one does.

Next week, this column takes on Donald Trump's promise: "We'll drain the Washington swamp!"

COPYRIGHT 2024 BY JFS PRODUCTIONS INC.

The post No One Can Make Government Work appeared first on Reason.com.

Over the past decade, scientists working at the National Institutes of Health (NIH) have earned an estimated $400 million in royalties from third-party companies for medical treatments and innovations they've helped produce. The NIH often provides grants to these same companies and produces research on their products. Despite that, the agency has resisted disclosing how much its scientists are getting paid and by whom.

A bill moving its way through Congress would change that.

On Wednesday, the Senate Homeland Security and Governmental Affairs Committee passed the Royalty Transparency Act of 2024 by a 12–0 vote.

The legislation would require that royalties received by federal government employees be included in their financial disclosures and that those disclosures be made available online for the general public to view.

"This is just basic 101 of conflict of interest. We're letting the billions of dollars that change hands over at NIH and between NIH and Big Pharma to be completely unscrutinized," says Sen. Rand Paul (R–Ky.), the author of the legislation. "This is probably the first reform bill that actually has a chance to correct some of the things that are rotten in the system."

The NIH's lack of transparency about the royalties paid to its scientists has been a source of controversy for decades.

A 2005 investigation by the Associated Press revealed that NIH scientists were receiving royalties for companies' pharmaceutical treatments that the agency was also studying in clinical trials.

That investigation prompted the NIH to require its employees to disclose these royalty payments to patients in clinical trials. But that information was still kept from the general public.

In 2021, watchdog group Open the Books filed public records requests (and when those were ignored, a lawsuit) seeking more information on royalties paid to NIH employees.

Initially, the NIH only released heavily redacted documents showing which employees had received royalties but not how much they were paid, who they were being paid by, or what they were being paid for.

In 2023, the NIH at last released new documents showing which companies were paying royalties to NIH scientists and more information on what the royalties were for. But the agency continues to redact how much individual scientists are earning from these royalties.

Paul's bill would require individual royalty amounts to be disclosed. The legislation would also require that members of federal advisory committees that make public health recommendations produce financial disclosures.

"With the approval of the COVID mandates and COVID vaccine mandates, the committees approving these, we had the question, well, are there people on these committees who get royalties from the companies that manufacture the vaccine?" Paul tells Reason. "When I asked [Anthony] Fauci about this a year ago, his angry response was that it was none of our business and that he didn't have to tell us."

Having passed out of committee, Paul's bill will now need the approval of the full Senate and then the House of Representatives.

The post Rand Paul's Bill Would Require NIH Scientists To Disclose Royalties They Receive From Drug Companies appeared first on Reason.com.

During the height of the pandemic summer of 2020, the proprietors of the Burning Bridge Tavern worked with local officials in Wrightsville, Pennsylvania, to host a series of outdoor gatherings for the community.

For their trouble, the bar's owners got slapped with a series of citations by the Pennsylvania Liquor Control Board (PLCB), the government agency that oversees and manages the sale of alcohol in the state. The citations were ticky-tack offenses, according to Burning Bridge's chief financial officer, Mike Butler. Twice, the bar was cited for noise violations because they'd allowed a band playing at the gathering to plug into the tavern's electricity supply. Another offense occurred when the owners and some family members were drinking inside the tavern, which was closed to the public, during a period when indoor dining was prohibited.

A frustrating situation, but not the end of the world. Burning Bridge's owners paid the fines associated with the citations and assumed that was that. But then the bar had to renew its liquor license.

"They denied it. They said, 'Oh, you're the guys that got all those citations,'" Butler says. "It was a real gut punch."

Turns out, over the past two years the PLCB has pushed dozens of Pennsylvania establishments that racked up pandemic-​related citations to sign "conditional licensing agreements" to renew their liquor permits. In some cases, those agreements have forced the sale of licenses—but in most cases, as with Burning Bridge, they've added additional conditions to the license that could prevent a future renewal from being approved.

While the PLCB cannot revoke existing licenses, the board is empowered to object to the renewal of a license or to demand the license can only be renewed conditionally. "In extreme cases," PLCB Press Secretary Shawn Kelly says, the PLCB can force the sale of a liquor license, though the board only pursues that option when "there is an operational and citation history that calls for such an agreement."

Even though Burning Bridge's owners weren't forced to sell their license, Butler says signing the conditional licensing agreement has come with real costs: The bar's insurance premium tripled as a result of being viewed as a greater risk.

Typically, those agreements have been used to curb nuisance bars or force establishments with a history of legal problems, like serving underage patrons, to clean up their acts. Recently, however, the PLCB has taken a hardline stance against establishments that violated pandemic-era rules.

"The people who violated the governor's mandates and orders should face some consequences," argued Mary Isenhour, one of the PLCB's three board members, at a January 2022 meeting where the first several of the COVID-related conditional licensing agreements were approved.

Isenhour was responding to an objection raised by a fellow board member, Michael Negra, who argued that the PLCB should take the view that businesses had "paid their dues" during the pandemic and should not face additional sanction now. Negra left the PLCB in June 2022 and now works for a ​Pittsburgh-based lobbying firm. He did not return requests for comment.

After Negra's departure, the PLCB has unanimously approved dozens of conditional licensing agreements for COVID-​related violations, including at least 10 that have required the sale of a license, based on a review of PLCB meeting minutes.

Kelly, the PLCB spokesman, maintains that licensees are "under no obligation" to sign conditional licensing agreements.

But any licensee that refuses would face a set of unattractive alternatives: not having the license renewed, or being drawn into a legal battle against the PLCB in state court.

"Do you risk your entire business, your license, the loans, all of that to fight" in a real court, asks Butler. "Or do you just kind of hold your nose and take your medicine? Tactically, for us, we weren't in a position to say, 'Yeah, we'll run that risk.'"

Chuck Moran, executive director of the Pennsylvania Licensed Beverage and Tavern Association, acknowledges that pandemic-era public health orders left many establishments with a difficult choice between following the law and surviving financially. Fairly or unfairly, "those who broke the rules went the wrong way and now they're paying the price," he says.

The whole matter raises some complicated questions about how our political institutions ought to handle, with the benefit of hindsight, the unprecedented circumstances created by the pandemic and policy makers' response to it.

"The feeling was that our government really isn't working to try and help us," says Butler. "At this point, it feels like they're coming after us."

The post Liquor Regulators Are Seeking Revenge on Bars That Broke Pandemic Rules appeared first on Reason.com.