On the Elections Day, Think About Your 401K

Dear Conservatives:

When it comes to casting a vote, exercise selfishness. There is a simple, pragmatic question that should always be at the forefront: what will this mean for your long-term financial security? Your 401K, your investments, your savings—all of these depend on a stable, functioning economy. And stability does not come from exclusion or disruption; it comes from inclusion, balance, and a measured approach to governance.

It is understandable that things like  DEI initiatives, or the visible presence of LGBTQ+ communities, can seem like liberal talking points that do not resonate with everyone. Maybe you have heard terms like "woke" tossed around as a criticism, or you have been told that the influx of immigrants is a threat to your way of life. But consider this: the future of the American workforce, the future of the communities in which you live, and even the future of your family, is inextricably linked to these very groups. The diverse communities are not going away, Trump or no Trump. Instead, they are becoming more integrated into the social fabric. The children of immigrants will sit next to your kids in school. LGBTQ+ individuals will work alongside you, contribute to the economy, and, yes, might even be part of your extended family someday. Their success is, quite literally, your success. Creating an environment where they are accepted, rather than alienated, fosters growth, innovation, and social harmony. The US a long track record to prove it. Have you considered why despite Trumpist dire warning of decline, the US Economy is the envy of the world?  

Immigrants make up about 14% of the U.S. population, yet they contribute to 36% of the country's innovation. These are the people who are starting businesses, developing new technologies, and driving the creative economy forward. Meanwhile, the "latte-toting white liberal eggheads," are not just part of some cultural elite—they are key players in the knowledge economy. They teach, they write, they innovate, and their contributions keep the engine of growth humming along. Without them, the country risks declining, not just economically, but culturally and intellectually. Think of those ageing and stagnating societies who chose to severely restrict immigration, like Japan.

It can be tempting, in moments of social upheaval, to support a political figure who promises to shake things up, to put a stop to what feels like an encroachment on traditional values. But beware of leaders who thrive on chaos. Disruption may feel satisfying in the short term, but it rarely leads to long-term prosperity. Your 401K does not thrive on drama; it thrives on steady, predictable growth. A president who flirts with authoritarianism, who shows disregard for democratic norms, and who stirs division for personal gain, is not going to create the kind of stability that ensures economic growth. It is like investing in a stock that is riding high today but could crash tomorrow on the whim of a reckless CEO. Why risk your financial future on such uncertainty?

The term "deep state" has been used to demonize career professionals within the government, but in reality, these are the people who understand the intricacies of national security, finance, and public health. They are not part of a shadowy conspiracy; they are experts who work across administrations to ensure the continuity of governance. When they express concern, it is worth listening. They, too, care about the long-term stability of the country—because, at the end of the day, that is what allows all of us, regardless of political affiliation, to thrive.

Think about the future you want to retire into. Imagine the kind of world you want for your children and grandchildren. Will it be one where communities are fractured and groups are pitted against each other, or one where collaboration and diversity are seen as strengths? Voting is not just about the next four years; it is about laying the groundwork for decades to come. It is about creating an environment where the economy can grow and where everyone, including you, can prosper. So as you approach the ballot box, think carefully. Think about your 401K.

Why are Universities so Inefficient?

Universities, like many sprawling organizations, often struggle to enhance efficiency not because they lack capable personnel or even intent, but due to a mismatch between the work structure and where efficiencies could actually be enacted. At the root of this problem lies a strange phenomenon: mid-level managers—those who should ideally oversee, evaluate, and implement improvements in day-to-day operations—are often too bogged down with operational tasks to carry out their managerial roles fully. Rather than being empowered to optimize systems and guide teams toward efficiency, they function more as “working managers,” enmeshed in the same clerical and administrative duties as those they manage. Meanwhile, senior executives are typically removed from the nuanced operational issues that breed inefficiency. This dynamic leaves universities mired in procedural inertia, where small but consequential inefficiencies compound unchecked.

The current structure is problematic because, in effect, it blurs the lines between doing and directing, creating a workforce where mid-level managers wear two hats but lack the support and authority to execute either role well. When managers are entrenched in day-to-day operational tasks—answering emails, processing reports, coordinating schedules—they have neither the time nor the headspace to step back, evaluate workflows, or drive process improvements. They are, in essence, working at cross-purposes: trying to support the system while also participating in its least efficient parts. As a result, even simple tasks can become protracted, tangled in procedures that may no longer serve any purpose other than tradition.

On the other hand, executive leaders, though charged with guiding the overall institutional strategy, often don't have the intimate understanding of granular processes that would allow them to recognize inefficiencies in specific workflows. They know what needs to happen and, ideally, why it’s important to the institution’s goals, but they rarely have the time, context, or bandwidth to dive into the how. Efficiency improvements—like trimming unnecessary steps from a financial aid application process or automating routine departmental reporting—are too specific and procedural for executive focus, yet these are exactly the kinds of tasks that could generate meaningful improvements if someone had the authority and bandwidth to address them.

To foster true efficiency, universities need to recalibrate these roles, freeing mid-level managers from operational duties so they can act as true managers. This shift would involve a few key changes. First, universities must recognize the managerial role as one dedicated to managing rather than doing. This means hiring enough support staff to absorb clerical work, allowing mid-level managers to direct rather than perform. It also means changing job descriptions to include efficiency-seeking as an explicit part of their role. When middle managers are tasked specifically with identifying bottlenecks and redundancies, they can regularly evaluate processes and implement improvements without waiting for senior leadership's blessing. After all, small inefficiencies at one level of an organization may seem minor, but across an institution as large and complex as a university, they snowball, draining time and resources on a grand scale.

By shifting the focus of these mid-level managers and explicitly placing efficiency work in their position descriptions, universities can create a structure in which accountability for streamlined operations is built into the everyday functioning of the organization. This empowered middle tier would, over time, become skilled in addressing inefficiencies as they arise, whether by refining workflows, advocating for new technologies, or adjusting team roles to better distribute workload.

The irony, of course, is that universities, often revered as centers of innovation and intellectual rigor, are among the most resistant to this kind of operational overhaul. Their institutional habits are so entrenched and their bureaucratic structures so layered that meaningful changes require considerable will and patience. Yet if universities could shake off their procedural inertia, they might find themselves in a position to serve students, staff, and faculty better—transforming their institutions into models of efficiency.

The great liberal conservative project

Conservatism, in its truest sense, has always been about preserving the long-term health and survival of a society. It’s about continuity, tradition, and the stability necessary for a community to flourish across generations. Yet, modern iterations of conservatism often seem to forget that the most effective way to maintain a cohesive society isn't by enforcing homogeneity but by embracing and integrating diversity.
The rhetoric of some conservatives today promotes a nostalgia for a past that, while perhaps comforting in its simplicity, overlooks the complexities of maintaining a thriving, modern nation. It's tempting to imagine a uniform, unchanging society where everyone shares the same values, traditions, and identities. Such a vision is attractive because it feels safe and stable, a throwback to a perceived golden age when everything seemed simpler. But this desire to recreate a homogeneous society, even if well-intentioned, is fundamentally at odds with the reality of modern nations. It's not just impractical; it's a strategy that, while it may provide short-term satisfaction, sows the seeds of long-term division.
History shows that when societies attempt to enforce uniformity, they often end up creating fractures rather than unity. In seeking to assimilate everyone into one mold, they inadvertently build the conditions for disintegration. Enforcing a single standard of culture or identity tends to push those who don’t fit that standard to the margins, creating enclaves, ghettos, and communities that feel alienated from the broader society. These pockets of discontent may seem contained for a while, but they’re like mines waiting to detonate. Over time, these ignored and disenfranchised groups express their frustration in ways that destabilize the very social fabric that conservatism seeks to preserve.
The project of diversity and inclusion, often championed by liberals and progressives, is not just a matter of idealism or moral obligation; it’s an exercise in pragmatism. A diverse society that embraces various identities, cultures, and values isn’t one that is falling apart; it’s one that is resilient and adaptable. By acknowledging and incorporating differences, a society can continuously regenerate itself, pulling in new ideas, new energy, and new perspectives. This adaptability is what allows a society to survive the challenges of time—social changes, economic shifts, technological advancements, and unforeseen crises.
In this sense, diversity isn’t a threat to social cohesion; it’s a strategy for ensuring it. Embracing diversity is about making room for everyone, not just those who conform to an idealized past. It’s about absorbing different groups on their own terms, respecting their identities, and finding ways to integrate them meaningfully into the broader social fabric. This process can be uncomfortable and may challenge existing norms, but it’s a small price to pay for the long-term stability and prosperity of a nation. After all, it’s much easier to maintain unity when people feel seen and valued rather than forced into molds that don’t fit them.
There’s a curious irony here: the so-called liberals and progressives who advocate for diversity are, in many ways, the ones actually practicing long-term conservatism. They recognize that the future of a nation lies in its ability to evolve, to absorb new influences, and to accommodate change. They understand that you cannot go back to a mythical past, because history never really offers such an option. The past is always messier and more complex than nostalgic memories allow, often filled with exclusions and inequalities that modern societies have worked hard to overcome.
Harris is right about not going back, about avoiding the temptation to revert to this nostalgic vision. Going back means returning to a mindset that fears differences and marginalizes those who don’t fit neatly into the mainstream. It’s a mindset that builds walls instead of bridges, that sees diversity as a threat rather than an opportunity. This fear-based approach may rally support in the short term, appealing to those who long for a simpler, safer time. But it’s a reactionary stance, one that ultimately undermines the very continuity and stability it claims to protect.
The real conservative project—the one that genuinely seeks to maintain the long-term health of a nation—must recognize that inclusion and diversity are not antithetical to conservatism; they are its most pragmatic tools. Instead of fearing change and diversity, conservatives would do well to understand that the true preservation of society involves building a future that accommodates everyone. By acknowledging and respecting differences, by ensuring that all groups feel a part of the national narrative, we strengthen the social fabric rather than tearing it apart.
In the end, diversity and inclusion are not progressive luxuries; they’re also conservative necessities. Those who champion them are not undermining the nation; they are ensuring its survival.

The Cult of Bad Personality

In recent years, political discourse in both the United States and Russia has become increasingly fixated on individual personalities, rather than the underlying issues and strategic challenges facing each nation. This unhealthy obsession with figures like Donald Trump and Vladimir Putin betrays a lack of deeper thinking and self-reflection among liberals.

American liberals, in particular, have invested an inordinate amount of energy in vilifying Trump, at the expense of understanding why he was able to gain significant support from previously Democratic-leaning constituencies, such as blue-collar workers. The fact that Trump, a billionaire with no prior political experience, was able to present himself as a champion of the working class speaks to a profound failure of messaging and strategy on the part of the Democratic Party.

Rather than grappling with these difficult questions, many liberals have instead chosen to focus on the relatively narrow goal of putting Trump in jail. While holding individuals accountable for their actions is important, this approach fails to address the root causes of Trump's appeal and risks further alienating the very voters that Democrats need to win over.

Similarly, Russian liberals have placed an outsized emphasis on Putin as a person, rather than on building a broad political alliance that could challenge his grip on power. By failing to engage with the country's broad left, Russian liberals have missed an opportunity to create a more united opposition front. In no country can liberals hold power without an alliance with the Left, or Labor, or National  lieration movements, or somone else. Instead, Russian opposition is busy destroying itself over petty differences. 

This cult of personality in reverse is not only strategically myopic but also intellectually lazy. It allows opposition forces to avoid the hard work of introspection and self-criticism, and instead focus their energies on demonizing a single individual. Projecting one's own weaknesses onto an individual arch-enemy is a way to nowhere. 

If liberals in both the United States and Russia hope to effect meaningful change, they must move beyond this obsession with personalities and instead focus on developing a compelling vision for the future that resonates with a broad cross-section of society. This will require a willingness to engage with voters across the political spectrum, to listen to their concerns, and to craft a message that speaks to their hopes and aspirations.

Becoming a One-Trick Pony

As I settle into my new role as the AI Chief Officer, I find myself reflecting on the stark contrast between this position and my previous one as a dean. The transition has been an eye-opening experience, leading me to explore parts of the campus that I had rarely ventured into before. It is as if I have been handed a new pair of lenses, allowing me to see the interactions between different divisions in a whole new light.

One of the most striking changes I have noticed is the shift in my perspective. When I was a dean, my mind was constantly occupied with a myriad of concerns, ranging from student affairs to faculty development. Now, as the AI Chief Officer, I find myself becoming a one-trick pony, or rather, a hammer that sees everything as a nail. It is an interesting phenomenon, watching how my new position dictates my focus and shapes my thoughts.

I catch myself listening to colleagues, and almost instinctively, my mind jumps to how AI can help address their challenges. It is a reflex that has become increasingly prominent in my daily interactions. However, I must remind myself that not all problems can be solved with AI. It is an illusion that we, as a society, need to overcome. AI is a powerful tool, but it is not a panacea for every issue that arises.

This experience has taught me that every position we hold is both limiting and eye-opening. Our roles shape our perspectives, and sometimes, we may not even realize how narrow our focus has become. That is why I recommend that anyone who has the opportunity to change roles should do so. It is a chance to learn more about the campus you thought you knew everything about. Trust me, no one does.

Those who have had the privilege of changing focus, like myself, have gained a more comprehensive understanding of the intricate workings of our institution. It is a humbling realization, knowing that there is always more to discover and learn.

Many people step out of their comfort zone and explore new roles whenever the opportunity arises. You may be surprised at how much more there is to learn about the campus you thought you knew so well. And who knows, you might just discover a new passion or perspective that you never knew existed.

Accreditation of teacher preparation in California

I have been asked by researchers from Japan what I think about the accreditation of teacher education programs in California. At the heart of the accreditation process, as practiced in the state, is the California Commission on Teacher Credentialing (CTC). This body mandates a rigorous process that includes a detailed self-study report, aligning courses with specific standards, and a cyclical site visit every seven years. This system, though aimed at ensuring quality, is fraught with tensions and dilemmas.

First, the CTC accreditation is mandatory for institutions; without it, they cannot recommend new teachers for credentials. National accreditation is optional, and in California is often avoided due to its labor-intensive nature. The California system involves dual accreditation: the institution as a whole and each individual program, demanding a significant allocation of resources and time from faculty and staff. This immense investment is seen as a disproportionate response to the benefits received, raising questions about the effectiveness of such a system in truly enhancing educational quality.

The accreditation process, in its current form, seems to serve more as a compliance exercise than a tool for genuine self-improvement. Institutions often focus on presenting their best face rather than exploring areas for improvement, as the process is more about meeting minimum requirements than striving for excellence. This leads to a scenario where the real issues in teacher preparation, such as the quality of instructional methods or relevance of the curriculum, are not necessarily addressed.

Furthermore, the accreditation system appears to be out of sync with the dynamic nature of educational needs and societal changes. It is perceived as a static, bureaucratic process that fails to adapt quickly to new educational challenges or innovations in teaching and learning.

In light of these considerations, my recommendation is not to abolish the system but to refine it. The focus should shift from a labor-intensive compliance exercise to a more dynamic, formative process that encourages continuous improvement and innovation in teacher preparation. Simplifying the process, perhaps by reducing the frequency of site visits or streamlining documentation requirements, could alleviate the burden on institutions. Additionally, integrating more meaningful metrics that reflect the actual quality of teacher preparation, including post-graduation outcomes and the impact on student learning, would make the process more relevant and beneficial. 

While the accreditation system in California serves a critical role in maintaining a baseline quality of teacher education, there is a pressing need for reform. The goal should be a system that not only ensures basic standards but actively fosters excellence and innovation in teacher preparation.