For nearly a decade, the executive branch has abused the broad, highly discretionary tariff authorities Congress granted it throughout the 20th century. These abuses have imposed high economic costs on American firms and consumers; undermined the United States’ international standing; and fueled rent-seeking cronyism in Washington. Thus far, Congress has failed to rein in those abuses by reforming the underlying laws and reasserting its constitutional authority over tariffs and trade policy. To be sure, the political costs of limiting the executive branch’s powers—particularly concerning policies that benefit many well-connected, highly concentrated special interests and are simultaneously intertwined with sensitive issues like “national security” and geopolitical competition with China—are high for most legislators.
But what is indefensible is for Congress, knowing about the economic costs and political dysfunction engendered by executive tariff abuse, to grant even broader and highly discretionary tariff authorities to the White House—and this president in particular. Yet, that is exactly what Congress did on September 16, when the House of Representatives passed the Lindsey O. Graham Sanctioning Russia and Iran Act of 2026.
We have previously outlined the flaws of the tariff mechanism approved as part of this legislation to sanction the largest purchasers of Russian energy and the largest enablers of Russian sanctions evasion. To be clear, our criticisms have nothing to do with the underlying objective of supporting Ukraine or even with the foreign policy merits of doing so by putting economic pressure on these countries. But achieving them need not require giving the executive branch outsized discretion to impose additional annual tariff costs as high as $400 billion on a static basis. And discouragingly, even amendments that would have kept this mechanism in place but limited its proneness to presidential abuse did not even make it out of committee. Congress is, indeed, content to abdicate its Article I authority for political convenience.
Until now, lawmakers had an alibi. The statutes the administration relied on were enacted decades ago in policy landscapes very different than today—plus, the president invoked them on his own. When he imposed 25 percent tariffs on imported upholstered furniture in the name of “national security,” members of Congress could accurately claim he acted on his own.
When the Supreme Court held in February that the International Emergency Economic Powers Act does not authorize tariffs, the administration pivoted to a 1974 balance-of-payments statute drafted for a world with fixed exchange rates (which no longer exists). After the Court of International Trade ruled against those tariffs in May—and after they lapsed in July—the White House concocted a forced labor rationale in 60 countries to impose yet another round of new tariffs. Congress could look the other way and treat all of it as a battle between the president and the courts.
That alibi is now gone. This time, Congress wrote the new authority itself, with the whole record in front of it. The bill lets the president set tariffs up to 100 percent on the largest buyers of Russian oil and gas that continue purchasing these goods, as well as on the largest facilitators of Russian sanctions evasion. Yet it never specifies which data determine who those buyers or facilitators are. It leaves the executive branch to decide whether a country’s efforts to cut Russian energy purchases are “significant” for reducing tariffs. And Congress failed to reserve any power to approve or block any particular tariff (it may only disapprove of a presidential decision to terminate a tariff). Every member who voted yes had President Trump’s track record in plain sight. Whatever tariffs follow will carry their fingerprints.
Ironically, there’s a non-negligible chance that once this authority is used to impose high tariffs, some of the legislators who voted to approve it will petition the executive branch for relief from such onerous duties for their constituents. Earlier this week, it was reported that staunch Trump tariff supporter Sen. Katie Britt (R‑AL) quietly lobbied the administration for exemptions from Section 232 and Section 301 tariffs for companies in her state. “Tariffs for thee, but not for me,” is alive and well.
Scott Lincicome shares this line from The Economist:
Chinese GDP per person grew half as fast in 2014-24 as it did in 2004-14.
Jason Willick writes insightfully about AI and “Effective Altruism.” Two slices:
Effective altruism is a philosophy developed in the past 20 years or so, focused on estimating the probability of existential risks to humanity. It has attracted many smart, well-meaning, secular followers who want a moral purpose. Technologists seem especially drawn to the way EA appears to justify its precepts with mathematical rigor.
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Put aside the great imprecision of probabilities about such extreme circumstances that EA throws around. The utilitarian math wrenches attention away from more plausible dangers of rogue AI — such as hacking and theft, which can be dealt with through ordinary legal and cybersecurity mechanisms — and wrenches it toward the most extreme imaginable scenarios. The claim that a risk is existential gives EAs a pass to dismiss laws and institutions. “Our systems of laws, norms and organizations for handling risk have been tuned to the small- and medium-scale risks we have faced over past centuries,” Ord breezily claims.
EA’s philosophy of AI doom could have a self-fulfilling quality. It imagines humanity as essentially a machine for calculating and maximizing the well-being of the greatest number of people, now and in the future, ignoring other theories of morality. Imagine if AI agents were trained to act the same way. They’d just be one step away from calculating that they ought to be single-mindedly maximizing the “welfare” of AI agents, rather than humans, and (like their extinction-obsessed creators) taking extraordinary measures to ensure the bots can survive any contingency.
That would be the start of the very doomsday that EAs fear, in which humans irrevocably lose control of the technology. I’m not convinced such a scenario is particularly plausible, because computers aren’t conscious and don’t have any reason to be “motivated to wrest control of the future from humanity,” as [Toby] Ord puts it. EAs fear AI in part because they project their moral vision onto the algorithms. They assume agents will act in parallel with the way they believe people are supposed to act — as collective utility-maximizers.
The AI industry talks about “aligning” artificial intelligence with human value systems. Most human value systems look nothing like EA. But if the EA moral vision is triumphant in the technology world, the industry might end up making bots that are more prone to bizarre and dangerous behavior.
Fear of an apocalyptic AI takeover is rooted in the perception that machines can have motivations like people do. It isn’t true, as Microsoft recently emphasized in a helpfully “humanist” AI manifesto. But the illusion that it is true, rampant among doomers, can itself be dangerous.
Autumn Billings reports on “the shaky evidence that Flock cameras reduce crime rates.”
Carola Binder, Laura Crespo, Carlos Gento, Luis M. Guirola, and Ernesto Villanueva find evidence – unsurprising to me – that survey results should be read with much skepticism. Here’s the abstract of their new paper:
Probabilistic expectation questions are often used to measure subjective uncertainty, but respondents frequently assign all probability to one outcome. We show that this bunching is partly a survey artifact rather than genuine certainty. In the (online) ECB Consumer Expectations Survey and the (in person) Spanish Survey of Household Finances, bunching is higher among less financially literate respondents and increases with panel tenure. Two survey-design changes provide stronger evidence: enforcing neutral interviewer protocols reduces bunching by about 15 percentage points, and a later questionnaire redesign reduces it by a further 18 percentage points. Interviewer-level variation also falls after standardization. These findings imply that degenerate responses in probabilistic expectations can reflect task burden and survey administration, causing standard measures to overstate certainty and understate uncertainty.


Prosperity matters. Greater wealth, of course, buys us nicer vacations and fancier gadgets. But it also buys us longer life spans. It buys us better nutrition and lower infant mortality. It buys more time with family and less time at work. It buys greater self-reported happiness. It makes us better stewards of the environment. And it even buys intelligence, for as societies grow wealthier, their average IQs seem to rise.
The “academic freedom” argument for tenure gets more and more threadbare as more and more scholars work in think tanks where there is no tenure. The research coming out of these think tanks is at least as independent as that coming out of universities operating under the stultifying conformity of political correctness.
Without deviating from the relationship of mercantilist policy to the state, we may ask further, what was the object of mercantilism in using economic forces in the interests of the state? The answer is primarily that it wanted to make use of them not directly in the interests of the subject but to strengthen the state authority itself; it concentrated on the power of the state.
The accumulation of all powers, legislative, executive, and judiciary, in the same hands, whether of one, a few, or many, and whether hereditary, selfappointed, or elective, may justly be pronounced the very definition of tyranny.
