BPR Fall 2025 Issue 2

Editor’s Note

As we send this issue to print, the Brown University community is reeling from a tragic act of gun violence. Two of our classmates, MukhammadAziz Umurzokov and Ella Cook, were murdered, and nine others were hospitalized. Gun violence is always reprehensible, but to have it happen at our school has shattered any illusion that College Hill is insulated from the violence that has become so common elsewhere. As the Brown community begins the process of healing, we are grateful for the care, energy, and conviction every member of BPR brings to this publication. We hope that this issue offers a moment of reflection—or reprieve—as our community recovers.

In this issue’s special feature, we explore the connection between fiction and politics. Throughout history, humans have created fiction. Myths—spread orally through hunter-gatherer bands—helped early humans explain and understand their world. Epic poems, from The Epic of Gilgamesh to Homer’s The Odyssey articulated cultural values, helped explain what it means to be a human, and provided a framework for different visions of morality. Shakespeare and Cervantes helped people critique politics. From classic literature to science fiction, propaganda posters to online memes, fiction influences our understanding of the world around us and, in turn, shapes the political environment.

A vodou ceremony that took place at Bois Caïman in Haiti in 1791 has served as a foundational myth for when the colony’s subjugated Black population decided to rebel against their French enslavers. As Keyes Sumner describes in “Spirit of Revolution,” this event was harnessed by televangelist Pat Robertson in 2010 to blame an earthquake in Haiti as an act of celestial revenge. The mythical events of 1791 have been turned into a fiction used to ascribe divine rationales for Haiti’s current political treatment.

In the 2015 film Sicario, the United States designates the fictional “Sonora Cartel” as a foreign terrorist organization, authorizing lethal military force to combat the drug trade.

In “Narco Nightmares,” Nicholas Freund traces how the film prophesizes President Trump’s war on drugs nearly a decade later. As the President embraces a more militarized approach, Freund suggests that there may be some lessons in the fictional plot of Sicario about the challenges that lie ahead.

Diella, Albania’s newest cabinet member, is an AI system. Prime Minister Edi Rama has tasked it with automating government services and fighting corruption. While the very concept of an AI minister may seem fictional, Ben Hader argues in “ChatGPT, Fix My Government” that Diella’s anti-corruption

efforts are also fictional. Hader contends that Diella will reinforce the power of Rama while limiting public accountability. Making trust in government a fact, rather than a fiction, requires more than a gimmicky new AI minister.

In “Stolen Vows,” Mitsuki Jiang argues that Kyrgyzstan’s bride kidnapping “tradition” is not as ancient as it seems. While seemingly common, Jiang explores how a fictitious historical narrative about bride kidnapping—known as ala kachuu—normalizes coercion and perpetuates oppression against women. By exposing this fiction, Kyrgyzstan may be able to create space to finally dismantle the practice.

Orbiting self-sustaining space cities may seem like science fiction, but in “Stateless in Space,” Asher Patel argues that increasing space exploration necessitates new legal frameworks for sovereignty in space. Rather than being governed by the terrestrial states that launch the cities into space, Patel makes the case for why these communities must be self-governing.

Today, as journalists and politicians increasingly blur the lines between fiction and facts, we implore you to reflect on the impact of fiction in politics. What do we do when fact becomes indistinguishable from fiction?

EXECUTIVE BOARD

EDITORS IN CHIEF

Amina Fayaz

Elliot Smith

CHIEFS OF STAFF

Jordan Lac

Grace Leclerc

CHIEF OPERATING OFFICERS

John Lee

Manav Musunuru

MANAGING EDITORS

Ashton Higgins

Mitsuki Jiang

Sofie Zeruto

CHIEF COPY EDITORS

Tiffany Eddy

Renee Kuo

INTERVIEWS DIRECTORS

Ariella Reynolds

Benjamin Stern

DATA DIRECTORS

Nikhil Das

Tiziano Pardo

CREATIVE DIRECTORS

Bath Hernández

Natalie Ho

Fah Prayottavekit

MULTIMEDIA DIRECTOR

Solomon (Solly)

Goluboff-Schragger

WEB DIRECTOR

Armaan Patankar

DIVERSITY OFFICER

Michael Shui

BOARD OF ADVISORS

Zander Blitzer

Alexandros Diplas

Allison Meakem

Gabriel Merkel

Tiffany Pai

Hannah Severyns

Mathilda Silbiger

DIVERSITY TEAM

DIVERSITY OFFICER

Michael Shui

DIVERSITY ASSOCIATE

Jiayi Wu

INTERVIEWS BOARD

INTERVIEWS DIRECTORS

Ariella Reynolds

Benjamin Stern

DEPUTY INTERVIEWS

DIRECTORS

Ciara Leonard

Eiffel Sunga

Matthew Kotcher

Charlotte Peterson

INTERVIEWS ASSOCIATES

Aleksandra Pakhomova

Amish Jindal

Anita Sosa

Aurna Mukherjee

Charles Lebwohl

Christina Li

Gabriella Miranda

Jack DiPrimio

Maria Mooraj

Matteo Papadopoulos

Michael Lau

Michele Togbe

Nava Litt

Raghav Ramgopal

Rishabh Rao

Riyana Srihari

Rutva Brahmbhatt

Sarik Gupta

Sofia Segarra Wilber Anteroladata

DATA BOARD

DATA DIRECTORS

Nikhil Das Tiziano Pardo

DATA ASSOCIATES

Aavin Mangalmurti

Amy Qiao

Anna Wong

Brandon Yu

Breanna Villarreal

Ishaan Jain

Jeffrey Gao

Joshua Reed

Reina Jo

Romilly Thomson

Wesley Horn

Zoe Weissman

Fanny Vavrovsky

DATA DESIGNERS

Carys Lam Yeonjai Song

WEB BOARD

WEB DIRECTOR

Armaan Patankar

WEB DEVELOPERS

Hao Wen

Jaideep Naik

Joanne Ding

Nitin Sudarsanam

Shafiul Haque

WEB DESIGNERS

Casey Gao

Hyelim Lee

Zairan Liu

PUZZLE DIRECTOR

Matthew DaSilva

PUZZLE DESIGNERS

Ana Vissicchio

Lucy Bryce

Marissa Scott

COPY EDIT BOARD

CHIEF COPY

EDITORS

Tiffany Eddy

Renee Kuo

MANAGING COPY

EDITORS

Nicholas Clampitt

Vivian Chute

COPY EDITORS

Aditya Krishnan

Annika Melwani

Charlotte Peterson

Christina Li

Damiana Harper

Daniel Shin

Eva Dillon

Isabela Perez-Sanchez

Jason Hwang

Kaylee Gilbert

Leah Freedman

Lillian Castrillon

Michaela Hanson

Natalie Tse

Nate Barkow

Rachel Loeb

Rachel Sang

Ryan Choo

Shant Ispendjian

Shiela Phoha

Vanya Shah

MULTIMEDIA BOARD

MULTIMEDIA DIRECTOR

Solomon (Solly)

Goluboff-Schragger

MULTIMEDIA PRODUCERS

Audrey Gmerek

Becky Montes

Chompoonek (Chicha)

Nimitpornsuko

Christina Charie

Clara Baisinger-Rosen

Danielle Deculus

Ella Podurigiel

Ellie Wu

Erin Ozyurek

Josué Morales

Leyad Zavriyev

Lucas Da Silva

Lucy Previn

Lynn Nguyen

Maison Teixeira

Miranda Mason

Nava Litt

Oona O’Brien

Romi Bhatia

Sophie Mueller

Thomas Foley

Xavier Colon

Zarah Hillman

PODCAST DIRECTOR

Caroline Cordts

BUSINESS BOARD

BUSINESS DIRECTORS

John Lee

Manav Musunuru

BUSINESS ASSOCIATES

Elina Coutlakis-Hixson

Lizzie Duong

Mariana Copeland Celaya

Neve O’Neil

Jack DiPrimio

Becky Montes

Arjun Puri

Remi Takahashi

EDITORIAL BOARD

MANAGING EDITORS

Ashton Higgins

Mitsuki Jiang

Sofie Zeruto

SENIOR EDITORS

Aman Vora

Brynn Manke

Julianna Muzyczyszyn

Keyes Sumner

Steve Robinson

Tess Naquet-Radiguet

EDITORS

Allan Wang

Annabel Williams

Ava Rahman

Chris Donnelly

Daphne Dluzniewski

Emily Feil

Fabiana Conway

Faith Li

Gus LaFave

Isabella Xu

Joshua Stearns

Kenneth Kalu

Madeleine Connery

Mateo Navarro

Meruka Vyas

Nicolaas Schmid

Rohan Leveille

Sara Amir

HIGH SCHOOL

PROGRAM LEAD

Brynn Manke

Tess Naquet-Radiguet

CREATIVE BOARD

CREATIVE DIRECTORS

Bath Hernández

Natalie Ho

Fah Prayottavekit

DESIGN DIRECTOR

Jiabao Wu

EDITORIAL DESIGNERS

Anna Wang

Dongha Kwak

Jay Moon

Marie You

Sheeon Chang

Tiffany Tsan

PUBLIC RELATIONS

DESIGNERS

Kyuwon Park

Jordan Kinley

ART DIRECTORS

Angela Xu

Burcu Koleli

Larisa Kachko

Leslie Mateus

COVER ARTIST

Sarah Naidich

STAFF WRITERS

Aaditya Das Narayan

Alexia Lara

Alina Calix-Martinez

Andrea Fuentes

Arjun Puri

Asher Patel

Audrey Gmerek

Ben Hader

Charlie Getman

Chiupong Huang

Christina Charie

David Macario

Emily Pan

Emily Schreiber

Emma Phan

Fanny Vavrovsky

George Weiler

Gui Sequeira

Isabella Collins

Kayla Morrison

Kimaya Balendra

Lauren Kozmor

Lev Kotler-Berkowitz

Matthew MacKay

Mia Reyn

Michaela Hanson

Nainika Sompallie

Nate Barkow

Napintakorn (Pin) Kasemsri

Natalia Baños Delgado

Remi Takahashi

Riya Singh

Sabine Cladis

Siyuan (Michael) Shui

Shane Vandevelde

Shant Ispendjian

Sonya Rashkovan

Will Thomas

Samdol Lhamo Sichoe

Zern Hee Chua

ILLUSTRATORS

Airien Ludin

Amelia Jeoung

Angelina So

Anneke Beth

Awele Chukwumah

Christina Xu

Cora Zeng

Elizabeth Chew

Ellie Lin

Emily Chao

Emily McShane

Haley Maka

Jiwon Lim

Kexin Huang

Lily Engblom-Stryker

LuJia Liao

Lydia Smithey

Mia Cheng

Mot Tuman

Oli Bartsch

Orla Maxwell

Paul Li

Ranran Ma

Rokia Whitehouse

Shay Salmon

Sofia Schreiber

Wanxin Li

York Mgbejume

Kyuwon Park

A Café of One’s Own

On College Hill, visibility is built on the erasure of those who once lived here

by Isabella Xu ’28, an International and Public Affairs and Sociology concentrator and Editor for BPR

illustrations by Amelia Jeoung ’26, an Illustration major at RISD and Illustrator for BPR

Sunlight pours through sliding glass doors, pooling across the leaves of a fiddle-leaf fig and the gentle curves of a midcentury modern chair. On days like these, the doors are left open so that the sprawl of The RealReal-scouring students, artists, and professionals can sip their lattes out on the sidewalk and take in the view: an entire neighborhood of similarly decorated, similarly inhabited cafés, coworking spaces, and bookstores.

In recent years, gathering spaces like these have emerged in nearly every city, becoming key sites for in-person community-building in our isolated digital age.

College Hill has no shortage of these spaces. Ceremony and Madrid Bakery’s soaring glass walls dissolve the boundary between interior and street, flooding the space with natural light and autumnal hues.

Pass by India Point Park, 195 District Park, or even the Michael Van Leesten Pedestrian Bridge on a summer weekend, and you will find crowds practicing outdoor yoga in full view of passersby.

“Coffee Exchange was established after a huge community made up of primarily Cape Verdean immigrant families was displaced from their homes along Wickenden Street.”

These bodies, stretched in a downward dog backlit by Narragansett Bay, are a living tableau of wellness and leisure.

These public parks are what urban scholars call “third places,” meant to be freely occupied when not at home (the “first place”) or work (the “second place”). But in urban planning, nothing really comes free. Their occupants are those who can afford to live nearby. They have the aspirational lives that park and urban architecture are designed to center.

In philosopher Michel Foucault’s conception of the panopticon, visibility is a tool of control. The prison guard’s tower commands a view of every cell; the inmates, never sure when they are being watched, internalize this surveillance and discipline themselves.

But the design of College Hill’s gathering spaces inverts this logic entirely. Passersby do not monitor the people inside sipping matcha lattes and typing on MacBooks—they desire to

join them. The glass walls are oversized vitrines, flaunting the café as a breathing exhibition of yuppie intellectualism. To be seen is the whole point. To be visible in these spaces is to signal that you belong to a particular class of people. You are creative, leisurely, and culturally fluent. Not every community gets to be visible without consequence. In fact, many of today’s third places sit on land once home to Black and brown neighborhoods later erased through midcentury urban renewal due to implicit, heavily racialized understandings of spatial capital.

In 1946, Rhode Island passed the Community Redevelopment Act, forming the Providence Redevelopment Agency (PRA), one of the first of its kind in the United States. Four years later, the Slum Clearance and Redevelopment Act gave the PRA the right to acquire private homes through eminent domain in “blighted areas.” Many of College Hill’s most popular spaces were built on this displacement. India Point Park and the 195

District Park were the direct outputs of the “traumatic” I-195 relocation project, which displaced over 80 businesses and six residences.

Coffee Exchange was established after a huge community made up of primarily Cape Verdean immigrant families was displaced from their homes along Wickenden Street. Brown Bee’s mahogany-paneled walls warm Benefit Street only after government-accelerated gentrification. While the dominant narrative is that these communities were priced out by student housing, the upcharge on Fox Point homes actually began as a direct response to the threat of the PRA razing down the neighborhood for urban redevelopment. Affluent College Hill residents formed the Providence Preservation Society (PPS) to designate Fox Point as “historic.” This designation piqued the interest of private and public buyers, who bought out the neighborhood and reintroduced it to the market at unprecedented high prices.

Even the lesser-known Oak Bakeshop, about a 25-minute walk past Andrews Commons, is a testament to the racial undercurrents dictating which neighborhoods are considered “blighted.” The bakery, popular for Jewish pastries served on antique china, sits in the former Lippitt Hill area where residents were vacated following a 1962 development proposal.

To the then-residents, Lippitt Hill felt vibrant and livable. In a 2017 community oral history, former resident Deborah Tunstall reminisced, “We had a fish man, oil man, rag man, fruit man, and an ice cream man…We were poor but we didn’t know we were poor,” to the agreement of her former neighbors. It housed the rare sense of community that 20-somethings flock to Manhattan’s East Village in search of. The entire neighborhood was a third place.

So where did the residents of Lippitt Hill go? In St. Louis, Baltimore, Chicago, and even our comparably pint-sized Providence, residents were forcibly relocated into public housing projects—colloquially known as “the projects.”

Armed with new construction technologies, 1950s urban architects constructed brick highrises with the intention of shielding occupants from the sight of passersby. Fluorescent lights, flickering from chronic disinvestment, replaced bay windows. The towering design isolated residents vertically, stacking families to make spontaneous sidewalk conversations and front-porch socializing impossible. Access was funneled through limited entry points, each checkpoint a potential surveillance site, while police circled the perimeter. Public housing residents become transparent to the state while simultaneously opaque to the public.

According to American University professor Derek Hyra’s Slow and Sudden Violence, architectural concealment of Black residents was an explicit strategy to combat white suburban flight and incentivize downtown business investment. The logic is painfully simple: White people perceive Black people gathered together as a threat. Lippitt Hill’s amenities would have been celebrated as walkable, diverse, and vibrant if

“Public housing residents become transparent to the state while simultaneously opaque to the public.”

occupied by white bodies. As it was, 650 homes were destroyed for not being “wholesome.”

Their residents were moved into public housing projects like Hartford Park. Featuring four 10-story high-rises, Hartford Park was a public marvel when it opened in 1953 as America’s first public housing project with an elevator. However, due to neglect and disinvestment, conditions grew unlivable by the 1970s. Other public housing around the city, like Manton Heights, the Chad Brown Apartments, Admiral Terrace, Codding Court, and Sunset Village, suffered the same fate.

Gradually, the harms of this architectural strategy were recognized. In 1968, Congress prohibited the construction of new high-rise public housing. An applaudable initiative began: to renovate the projects into liveable, centralized communities.

In Providence, the neighboring Chad Brown and Admiral Terrace apartments underwent a $16.5 million renovation from 1986 to 1989, constructing a park between the two apartments for

its residents’ use. Complete with picnic tables, lawns, and two recently installed playgrounds, the complex seemingly lives up to its self-proclaimed title of “A Family Community.”

While the restructuring of low-income housing from vertically stacked to suburban and walkable is a definite improvement, a closer examination of Chad Brown’s layout reveals the limits of its liberatory promise.

The renovated courtyard design realizes Foucault’s panopticon even more literally than earlier high-rises. The apartments are arranged around a central gathering space, creating the exact architectural formation Foucault describes. Residents gathering in the courtyard are observable from surrounding management windows and security stations positioned to overlook the space. Visibility flows inward.

Unlike Ceremony’s glass walls, these courtyard gathering spaces remain architecturally opaque to passersby. They are sandwiched between public housing buildings, visible only to other tenants. The renovations created spaces for

the congregation, yes, but only for those already contained within the project boundaries.

Geographical location reinforces architectural containment. Chad Brown, Codding Court, Hartford Park, and Manton Heights remain tucked away from College Hill life. They are spatially segregated from the city’s most aspirational, trafficked areas.

The PRA cannot erase the haunts of 1950sera displacement. Photos plastered on its website of Hartford Park feature all the iconography of suburbia; mature trees, quaint green signage, two-story buildings, and even a silver SUV. But the original, ten-story Hartford Park still stands. It towers over its 1980s successors as a reminder that our government hid congregation done by Black and brown bodies. Back on College Hill, the highly visible architecture of our most beloved gathering spaces highlights the paradox that we, unlike College Hill’s displaced residents, get to be seen.

The AI Bandage

Artificial intelligence supports a struggling economy

by Chris Donnelly ’28, an Applied MathematicsEconomics concentrator and Editor for BPR

illustrations by Carys Lam ’29, an Architecture major at RISD and Data Designer for BPR

The AI wave rippling through the US economy has raised both excitement and alarm. As an immense amount of capital changes hands between companies in the industry and investments in AI make up an increasing share of US GDP growth, some analysts now predict an AI bubble. While there have previously been disruptive paradigm shifts like cloud computing and cryptocurrency, what distinguishes this paradigm shift is the way in which AI investment has become an industry-sanctioned band-aid on an otherwise bleeding US economy. Despite bubble speculation and potential overvaluation, AI has emerged as a flawed but essential driver of innovation and economic renewal in a country that desperately needs it.

To understand the implications of AI’s recession-cushioning capabilities, it is important to analyze the American economy more broadly. Since taking office in January 2025, President Donald Trump has announced double-digit, country-specific tariffs on America’s top trade partners alongside an array of sector-wide policies, including a declared 100 percent tariff on patented pharmaceutical products from companies that do not rely on US manufacturing. The administration has also toyed with, adjusted, and rolled back promises to use tariffs to coerce Mexico and Canada into strengthening border security earlier this year.

“The disproportionate role of AI growth in the GDP growth has elicited both skepticism and conviction from the investors and individuals spearheading the AI movement. ”

At the same time, the US job market has experienced a recent slowdown, with the unemployment rate reaching 4.4 percent in September: the highest since October 2021. The Federal Reserve System has even tried to ward off an employment crisis through cuts to the federal funds rate. Volatile tariffs, combined with the Fed’s passive “wait-and-see” approach to the unemployment landscape, have brought the future of the US economy into question.

US economic growth, however, does not show signs of stagnation. The S&P 500 has grown 16 percent from January through October 2025, nearly 6 percent above average returns over the past 70 years. The political factors that should be creating shortfalls within the US economy are outweighed by a dominant force: AI spending.

In 2024, well before this year’s mega-deals between leading tech companies, the US private AI investment market alone was valued at $109.1 billion. Only a year later, Nvidia, the chipmaker

powering much of the AI ecosystem, is valued at nearly a third of US GDP growth this year.

The disproportionate role of AI growth in the GDP growth has elicited both skepticism and conviction from the investors and individuals spearheading the AI movement. Deutsche Bank reported that the AI boom could produce an $800 billion separation between revenues and investments that would plunge the economy into a deep recession. OpenAI CEO Sam Altman also explained in August that he believes investors are “overexcited about AI,” which can lead to recession-inducing bubbles. Others, however, believe the opposite, with investor Michael Pecoraro arguing that leading AI companies are creating “actual demand” by generating “real revenue” through long-term contracts with customers.

Despite concerns about overvaluation, there is a general sense of hope for AI’s role in the future. Altman explained that “AI is the most important thing to happen for a very long time,” and he’s right. On even the least developed end of AI, the fact that individuals have created a system capable of learning, understanding, and developing new ideas independent of human guidance makes it commensurate with the invention of the wheel or the discovery of the double helix. In this sense, even if the current AI products are overvalued, the tidal wave of investment will provide essential scaffolding for a technology that could mark the next chapter of human civilization. Beyond AI’s social implications, even a potential bubble creates meaningful economic benefits. Venture capitalist Hemant Taneja asserted that

although such a bubble could create economic upheaval, it would distill the AI landscape to the companies innovative and resilient enough to survive and change the world.

Considering its social and economic significance, our understanding of AI’s economic impact needs to be reframed. While the current landscape may resemble a bubble, any suspicion of overvaluation can only be confirmed if such a bubble bursts. Until then, discussions surrounding AI should revolve around its clear promises for the future instead of the current market frenzy. Not only does the technology serve as an economic catalyst for growth and a beacon of innovation in an otherwise stagnant US economy, but it could also represent a new chapter in human progress.

THE CREATIVELYDESTRUCTIVE PATH

DESTRUCTIVE

TO THE NOBEL THE CREATIVELY-

PATH TO THE NOBEL

An Interview with Peter Howitt

Interview by Sofia Segarra ’29

Illustration by Kaitlyn Stanton ’26

Brown University Professor Emeritus Peter Howitt, co-architect of the theory of sustained economic growth through creative destruction and co-recipient of the 2025 Nobel Prize in Economic Sciences, discusses the journey that led him from sorting wool in Ontario to reshaping the global landscape of economic thought. With long-time collaborator Philippe Aghion, Howitt developed a mathematical framework that helps to explain the ways innovation fuels growth while rendering older industries obsolete. Howitt discusses the intricacies between technological progress and social disruption, and why creativity, educational innovation, and competition policy are essential for equitable productivity in a highly globalized, AI-driven period. His story invites us to imagine systems where innovation uplifts rather than excludes—a lesson that extends beyond economic or academic thought into everyday life.

Sofia Segarra: You earned degrees in both political science and economics, yet macroeconomics has remained your central inspiration. What led you to pursue a dual degree and make macroeconomics your primary focus?

Peter Howitt: I became interested in economics in high school while working for a wool importer in my hometown of Guelph, Ontario. I was captivated by the constant price changes coming in on his teletype from places like Buenos Aires and Australia. He told me if I wanted to understand those movements, I needed to study economics—so I did. At McGill University, an honors degree in economics required pairing it with another field, so I chose political science, which made sense because economics and politics are so hard to separate. My interest shifted to macroeconomics in my final year at McGill after a course on Keynes’ General Theory of Employment, Interest and Money. That interest deepened when pursuing my master’s at Western University, where Joel Freed introduced me to Bob Clower’s Keynesian work. My path in growth theory solidified when I met Philippe Aghion, my future co-author and fellow Nobel laureate. He brought microeconomics, I brought macroeconomics, and our collaboration clicked from the start, lasting 35 years.

SS: You’ve expressed frustration with older economists resisting new developments in macroeconomic theory and empirical research. Do you think those early experiences shaped how you teach, mentor, and stay open to new thinking?

PH: It taught me what I didn’t want to become. The economic theory I worked on, which is fairly mathematical, is a young person’s field. People can make good contributions, but beyond the age of about 70, they don’t appreciate what happens at the frontier. Thinking about creative destruction reinforced this: Young innovators naturally challenge the older ideas that established previous generations’ reputations, and it’s easy for older scholars to dismiss that “new-fangled nonsense.”

were less creative than their US peers. Creativity is essential today, and these strengths help explain why the United States continues to lead in cutting-edge technology.

A third important policy for maintaining our leading edge is competition policy. Industries shouldn’t be dominated by technological leaders who were once disruptive upstarts but are now doing things that block the next generation of disruptive upstarts. We need incentives to ensure today’s leaders innovate to stay ahead rather than to block the next generation of competitors.

“Technological change always devalues some jobs but boosts productivity in others. Policy can incentivize firms to adopt technologies that enhance workers rather than replace them.”

SS: You began collaborating with Philippe Aghion in 1987. How did that close partnership shape your joint theory of creative destruction, and how did it influence your path as a leading researcher in economic growth?

PH: I have done all of this work with Philippe. Our skills and personalities complemented each other very well. His encouragement kept me grounded in focusing on growth theory as my curiosity pulled me in many directions; without that, I might have never accomplished what I did.

SS: ‘Creative destruction’ describes how innovation brings creation and loss, as advancements render older industries obsolete, impacting workers and entrepreneurs. How can policies be restructured to help individuals thrive within these cycles of creative destruction, especially in such a globalized world?

PH: In regard to labor market policy, a useful model for it is the flexicurity system, combining a strong social safety net with retraining programs, so workers displaced by innovation can transition efficiently into emerging industries, allowing them to benefit from technological advancement. Technological change always devalues some jobs but boosts productivity in others. Policy can incentivize firms to adopt technologies that enhance

SS: You’ve emphasized that technological change—especially with artificial intelligence—should enhance work and productivity rather than replace labor. How can we achieve this when AI often risks reducing productivity, livelihoods, and even creative thinking?

PH: We don’t know what AI’s full impact will be. As a general-purpose technology, it can transform many industries. Some predict it will cause mass unemployment, but history shows that new technologies often create new occupations and can benefit labor as much as capital. There’s no guarantee this will happen, but I hope AI will complement workers instead of replacing them. Early on, these technologies don’t raise productivity because there’s a long shakeout period—heavy investment with little immediate output. It may take decades to see who truly benefits. Technologies that seem poised to replace skilled workers often end up making them more productive. For example, AI tools in medicine can summarize research and suggest treatments to enhance the work of doctors.

SS: How can we foster an atmosphere between universities, private industries, and government institutions that ensures that technological innovation drives economic growth and addresses broader sociocultural and political challenges?

“In advanced economies like the United States, Europe, and Canada—where growth relies on leading-edge innovation—you need creative thinkers. Brown successfully fosters this way of thinking; its students were among the most creative I taught.”

workers rather than replace them, which is done in some European countries, and makes it harder to fire long-time workers, pushing firms toward productivity-enhancing innovations instead of labor-replacing ones. There are many ways to steer technology toward benefiting workers and minimizing losses so we all benefit in the end.

Regarding education policy, it depends on the country. In advanced economies like the United States, Europe, and Canada—where growth relies on leading-edge innovation—you need creative thinkers. Brown successfully fosters this way of thinking; its students were among the most creative I taught. Although the United States scores lower on international tests, many top-performing international students I taught

PH: In the United States, progress has often come from the government spearheading coordination and setting standards, like the Department of Agriculture’s work with land-grant universities, which drove major productivity gains, or the Department of Defense’s role in funding early computer research during the IT revolution in the 20th century. Universities and businesses need to collaborate, although there’s always a risk when academia gets too close to industry. Still, working on real-world problems can lead to breakthroughs, as shown by Bell Labs’ partnerships with academic researchers, which led to Nobel Prizes. This is the best path forward.

Edited for length and clarity.

Punished for the Past

Criminal records should not be a bar to aid in Rhode Island

by Nate Barkow ’29, an International and Public Affairs and Education Studies concentrator and a Staff Writer and Copy Editor for BPR

illustrations by Oli Bartsch ’26, an Illustration major at RISD and Illustrator for BPR

If you experience domestic violence, a victims’ compensation fund should defray the medical and legal costs of victimization. If you are deemed the wrong kind of person, however, Rhode Island’s victim compensation fund will turn you away. Rhode Island is one of only seven states that ban people with criminal records from receiving assistance from victim compensation funds, alongside Arkansas, Florida, Louisiana, Mississippi, North Carolina, and Ohio. Despite its reputation as a progressive state, Rhode Island is out of step with other liberal states when it comes to helping victims of crime who may themselves have a criminal record. For a state whose motto is “Hope,” denying compensation based on criminal history is unacceptable. Reforming these policies is crucial for all victims to receive the help they need.

Victim compensation funds exist in all 50 states and are important sources of relief for people who have experienced the trauma of a crime. The federal government supports 75 percent of the funding, and states provide the remaining funds, typically through fines and fees levied on criminal defendants. Victim compensation funds commonly provide relief for often

“Rhode Island’s victim compensation system equates a person’s past mistakes with present guilt, effectively blaming victims for their past and not allowing them room to grow after subsequently facing harm themselves.”

substantial medical and burial expenses that are not otherwise covered by a victim’s insurance. Victim compensation funds do not just help current victims: They may also stop cycles of violence and prevent the creation of new victims in the future. A report from the Center for American Progress notes that people are less likely to commit harm against others if they receive the support they need to heal from their own victimization.

However, the process of obtaining victim compensation is challenging. According to a 2022 poll conducted by the Alliance for Safety and Justice, 96 percent of victims of violent crimes across the United States were not given support from victim compensation funds. Fewer

than 50 percent of crime victims and survivors submit reports to law enforcement about what happened to them, precluding their ability to obtain compensation in most states. Many are unaware that victim compensation funds are an option for them; even if they are aware, many lack the necessary resources to apply for the funds because the application requests an abundance of often difficult-to-find information. In fact, just over 6 percent of people who were victims of crime actually applied for compensation in 2023.

The distribution of victim compensation is often based on subjective views of law enforcement about who deserves help rather than the objective strength of a case of victim need. The

“Restrictions on fund access based on prior convictions are especially unforgiving for victims of genderbased violence.”

many hurdles to obtaining relief exacerbate the obstacles victims already face in recovering from their trauma. A state committed to recognizing and legitimizing the experience of victims must ensure that it provides compensation without needless bans or so many impediments to relief that victims do not bother with the process of applying.

Despite being known as a relatively progressive state, Rhode Island has some of the nation’s most restrictive rules for people seeking assistance after being victimized. Regardless of the nature of the crime that they have suffered from, victims must report it to the police within 15 days. Those with a violent conviction in the past five years, or any criminal record at all, may be denied relief. The legislature of Rhode Island

even rejected a proposal to have the state cover funeral costs for victims, whether they had a criminal record or not.

Restrictions on fund access based on prior convictions are especially unforgiving for victims of gender-based violence. Victims of gender-based violence often delay contacting police because reporting their experience can lead to escalated violence in their relationship. If this delay exceeds 15 days, Rhode Island will deny compensation. People—especially women—in abusive intimate relationships may be coerced into aiding and abetting their abusers’ crimes, thereby obtaining a criminal record. Of the 24 percent of relationships that involve violence, almost half involve reciprocal violence, where both parties might find themselves with criminal

records, but the relationship is characterized by a power imbalance where one of the parties is driving the abuse. If those coerced partners or the vulnerable party in a reciprocally violent relationship seek compensation for the violence they have experienced, they will not receive aid from Rhode Island’s fund.

These bans also disproportionately harm Black communities. Black Rhode Islanders may have an augmented number of prior records because of structural barriers to employment, housing, transportation, education, and healthcare, coupled with discriminatory policing practices that target their communities to a higher degree than others. Despite making up 14 percent of the population and being equally likely to use drugs when compared with white

people, Black people make up one in four of those who are arrested for drug-related crimes. Black Americans are 5.9 times more likely to be incarcerated than white Americans. In Rhode Island, Black people make up 15.3 percent of the population, but they accounted for 33 percent of all arrests in 2019. A ban on people with criminal records thus ends up targeting people of color, compounding existing inequities.

Rhode Island’s victim compensation system equates a person’s past mistakes with present guilt, effectively blaming victims for their past and not allowing them room to grow after subsequently facing harm themselves. It is time for Rhode Island to join states like Illinois, Maryland, and New York that have

reformed their victim compensation regimes in the last four years. Maryland and New York no longer require victims to make a police report to receive compensation. A referral from a social service provider to the victim compensation fund can be sufficient, thus helping those victims (especially those who have experienced intimate partner violence) who are reluctant to go to the police. As a state that prides itself on progressive values, Rhode Island should be joining the states that are leading on this issue because it is also a matter of racial and sexual justice.

Rhode Island should reconsider its ban on individuals with criminal records, allow victims to report their harms to service providers

other than the police, and make sure its victim compensation application process is userfriendly. Enacting these measures will help break cycles of violence and harm.

When it comes to providing relief for victims, Rhode Island unfortunately stands out as one of the few states to punish crime victims for their past. Rhode Island should reform its compensation regime and join other states that are leading the way by compensating victims regardless of their criminal records. In doing so, they would recognize that even those with past convictions can suffer victimization and should receive help.

Un-Conceivable

The United States is not pregnant... and that’s OK

“There will be no West if this continues,” professed Elon Musk on X in September 2025. The crisis in question was none of the usual suspects—climate change, nuclear war, autocracy—but rather dropping fertility rates. Musk, to his credit, has personally endeavored to solve this problem one kid at a time: He is believed to have fathered 14 children. Unfortunately for the United States, his abundance of offspring remains an anomaly; the total fertility rate (TFR) in the United States sits at 1.6, significantly below the requisite replacement rate of 2.08 at which populations can sustain themselves.

Musk’s concern is valid. Failing to address this problem will burden government finances and stall economic growth. Consider the already-struggling Social Security program: Assuming the TFR holds at 1.6, the 2099 annual balance (the difference between revenue and expenditure as a percent of taxable income) will be -7.39 percent. Using the present-day 12.4 percent tax as a baseline, at the current TFR, Social Security taxes would have to rise by 59 percent just to maintain current benefits. At replacement TFR, taxes would still rise but by only 28 percent. That is just one program: Over the next century, an economic downturn driven by a falling population will exacerbate government debt

obligations and increase the burden of an aging population. While this population-driven economic crisis might be alleviated through immigration, massive demographic shifts will likely generate backlash.

As such, President Donald Trump has advocated for pronatalist policies designed to increase birth rates. Options on the table have included $5,000 baby bonuses to parents or the establishment of $1,000 “Trump accounts” for each baby born between 2025 and 2028.

by

Aman Vora ’27, an Applied MathematicsEconomics and Computational Biology concentrator and Senior Editor for BPR

illustrations by Mot Tuman ’26, an Illustration major at RISD and Illustrator for BPR

Intuitively, these policies make sense: We should be making it easier for people to have kids. But the policies proposed by Trump are unlikely to change the behavior of those choosing not to have children and will redirect money away from true cost-saving initiatives. It costs nearly $400,000 for a middle-class family to raise a child in the United States; $5,000 is little more than a distraction masking sky-high childcare and education costs. Even Hungary, which spends a staggering 5.5 percent of its annual GDP on pronatalist transfer payments, has seen birth rates fall after initially rising.

In the United States, many lower- and middleclass women (whose reduction in child-bearing has led to most of the recent decline in TFR) simply do not want more kids, making a TFR rebound nearly impossible despite incentives. Much of the reduction in TFR has resulted from a 23 percent fall in unplanned pregnancies since 1993. Likewise, the number of pregnancies per 1,000 females aged 15–17 has fallen from 75 in 1989 to just 11 in 2020. In this context, the only cost-effective means of raising fertility is social regression: banning abortions and reducing access to sex education and contraceptives. Baby incentives will fail as long as their proponents misunderstand the scale of the

problem. We can look back to the 18th century to find a similar dilemma. Back then, English economist Thomas Malthus predicted that population growth would far surpass food production, resulting in mass starvation and death. No such die-off occurred, despite the exponential population growth observed across the 19th and 20th centuries. Although our current problem is of an opposite nature, we can find a solution in the same mechanisms that prevented Malthus’ mass die-off.

Ultimately, it was technology that prevented the prophesied Malthusian hellscape. New technologies allowed us to industrialize food production to keep up with population growth. From agronomist Norman Borlaug’s ‘Green Revolution’ to the Internet, technology has improved productivity and, by extension, the consumption per capita measure of wellbeing.

“Worrying about a suboptimal population catastrophe decades away is simply not pragmatic, and, as such, learning to live with an aging population may be the optimal strategy.”

However, even if AI ends up influencing the world no more than other recent technological innovations like laptops or smartphones, the current breed of pronatalist policies will still offer limited returns. Governments will be better off investing in cheaper healthcare (especially at the end of life) and better support for the elderly. Medicare, for example, highlights that variations in healthcare costs render any fertility-sensitivity considerations null. For a fertility bump of 0.1, the 75-year deficit decreases by just $425 billion. If healthcare costs grow 1 percent faster than expected? An incomprehensible $15.99 trillion will be added to the 75-year deficit, dwarfing the Social Security fertility sensitivity considered earlier. Preventative health care, emphasis on primary care networks, and reduced drug costs will all go far in preventing such additions to the deficit.

Scholars have long recognized this overstated problem: In 2022, Norwegian demographist Vegard Skirbekk wrote that if we appropriately reassign capital investment to educating a slimmer workforce and invest in women’s labor force participation, “we can decline and prosper.” Likewise, Professor David Weil wrote that “much of the worry about sub-replacement fertility is overstated. Quantitatively, the net effect of even a large fertility reduction on the US economy would be a relatively small decline in the standard of living.” Even with fertility drops, students will continue to gain advanced degrees at similar rates, preserving the majority of innovation and growth along the technology frontier.

In the 21st century, technological advances— chiefly AI—will drive overall economic growth, preventing dependency- and debt ratio-driven spending crises. Suppose AI does indeed achieve the potential efficiency increases ascribed to a $5 trillion Nvidia valuation. In this case, labor will become significantly more productive, possibly mitigating any economic decline associated with a reduced labor force. McKinsey and Goldman Sachs both estimate that AI will add between 0.5 and 3.4 percentage points to productivity growth by 2075. The Wharton School estimates that AI will raise living standards by 3.7 percent by then. If the median estimates hold true, a decreased fertility rate will no longer be the problem it is currently made out to be.

Historically, economic growth has been a product of both pushing the technological frontier and an increasing population. The US labor force, though projected to continue growing through 2060, must recognize that overall growth will not keep pace with historical trends, but so long as debt is kept in check, standards of living will. GDP per capita, not GDP alone, is what matters. Some economic theory even suggests that “slower population growth can be expected to increase the ratio of capital to labor, which in turn will increase the level of per capita income.” In essence, a smaller, more equal population may, in the short run, be able to leverage an excess in capital per capita for more education and more well-being.

Worrying about a suboptimal population catastrophe decades away is simply not pragmatic, and, as such, learning to live with an aging population may be the optimal strategy. A focus on balanced budgets, affordable childcare, quality education, and reduced healthcare costs—while keeping an eye on the supposed “AI revolution”—will be best. Even if your definition of the purpose of humanity is to be fruitful and multiply, ultimately, a leaner, more efficient human population might be the one better adept at managing climate change or preserving social cohesion as AI becomes more widespread, maximizing human utility in the long run.

Mother Knows Best

MAHA exploits myths of motherly intuition to further health misinformation

In the latter half of 2024, the US public was introduced to the acronym ‘Make America Healthy Again’ (MAHA), a play on President Donald Trump’s ‘Make America Great Again’ (MAGA) slogan. Far from a gimmick, MAHA has become a powerful political movement, encompassing a diverse coalition of weight-loss influencers, Joe Rogan listeners, and “crunchy moms,” shaping both public health policy and parenting discourse. To achieve this mainstream recognition, MAHA elevated mothers to the forefront of the movement, exploiting gendered myths about maternal instinct to bolster its legitimacy.

MAHA originated with Robert F. Kennedy Jr.’s endorsement of then-presidential candidate Trump in 2024. With this move, Kennedy, the black sheep of the most prominent Democratic political dynasty in the United States, brought his base of health-conscious anti-establishmentarians into the MAGA faithful. To many who recognized the harms perpetuated by the current food and drug industries, this union seemed bizarre but perhaps suggested bipartisan hope. Yet mainstream coverage of Kennedy’s eccentricities overshadowed a troubling, decades-long commitment to furthering unsubstantiated vaccine skepticism, which undeniably lies at the root of his critiques of the scientific establishment and takes precedence over meaningful systemic reform efforts.

Kennedy’s first foray into health policy was his 2005 Rolling Stone article “Deadly Immunity.” In the now-retracted article, Kennedy alleged collusion between “Big Pharma” and the

by Emma Phan ’28, an International and Public Affairs and Economics concentrator and Staff Writer for BPR

illustrations by Lydia Smithey ’27, an Illustration major at RISD and Illustrator for BPR

Centers

for Disease Control

and Prevention (CDC) to cover up a supposedly causal link between vaccines and autism. From 2015 to 2023, Kennedy chaired Children’s Health Defense, a health misinformation and anti-vaccine advocacy group that has attempted to link chronic childhood conditions to vaccination, water fluoridation, and wireless communications, among other “toxins.” He also penned the 2021 bestseller, The Real Anthony Fauci, which, alongside vaccine denialism, promotes HIV/AIDS denialism and Covid-19 conspiracies.

Despite opposition from a coalition of over 75 Nobel Laureates, 17,000 doctors, and 87 civil society organizations, Kennedy was confirmed as the US Secretary of Health and Human Services (HHS) in February 2025. On the day Kennedy was confirmed, Trump issued an executive order establishing the MAHA Commission, with Kennedy as its chair. The commission was tasked with examining the potential dangers of prescription medications as well as researching the origins of childhood diseases and mental disorders.

As the MAHA Commission and HHS began to focus on children’s health, women became more prominent members of the movement.

Core to the appeal of the “MAHA Moms,” as these women have become known, are deeply entrenched societal beliefs about the essential goodness, intuitiveness, and protectiveness of women and mothers, which transcend political parties. The idea that mothers have a gut instinct is practically ubiquitous—think of the stories of mothers sensing that their children are in danger, only to be proven correct soon after.

The myth of maternal intuition frames a mother’s subjective perceptions as inherently trustworthy, ignoring social, cultural, and emotional factors that may lead to incorrect judgments. This phenomenon is employed throughout the MAHA movement to amplify unscientific and conspiratorial beliefs. Mothers are convinced that their anxieties about omnipresent risks to their children are valid because they are mothers with special maternal instincts.

Take our culture’s unfounded suspicion of “chemicals”—a term many use to refer to artificial, man-made substances. The MAHA movement exploits and expands this fear of “chemicals,” dubbed chemonoia, to convince mothers that poisons—such as fluoride in drinking water—are everywhere in their children’s daily lives. To MAHA proponents, good mothers can sense that “chemicals” are unnatural and

therefore dangerous for their children.

Even when scientists and doctors reassure them otherwise, MAHA moms must not relent, as their biological wisdom trumps the medical establishment.

During the Covid-19 pandemic, researchers studying the proliferation of anti-vaccine content on social media found that narratives of good motherhood were strategically employed to encourage vaccine refusal. Those pushing anti-vaccine rhetoric employed three interrelated tropes of motherhood, which the researchers identified as the “‘intuitive mother,’ the ‘protective mother,’ and the ‘doting mother.’” In

“Core to the appeal of the “MAHA Moms,” as these women have become known, are deeply entrenched societal beliefs about the essential goodness, intuitiveness, and protectiveness of women and mothers, which transcend political parties. ”

employing the trope of the intuitive mother, anti-vaccine activists covet maternal intuition “an innate form of wisdom,” over the professional knowledge of medical experts, who are framed as the unintuitive scientific elite.

Yet the myth of maternal intuition is actually a product of heteropatriarchal family systems that entrust mothers with primary authority over their children. The myth stems from the overarching belief that mothers are innately suited to handle the majority of childcare—a social construct that upholds the current gendered division of labor. The idea that mothers have a preternatural understanding of their children legitimizes this notion, upholding the expectation that women should bear the majority of the child-rearing burden as they “naturally” understand their children better than traditional science.

Mothers, who make approximately 80 percent of health care decisions for their children, are forced to shoulder a crushing burden. When their children fall ill, they are disproportionately likely to be their primary caregivers. Within this patriarchal framework—bolstered by the myth of maternal intuition—mothers are isolated within the home and forced to make sacrifices in silence, increasing their anxiety and making them more vulnerable to misinformation. This devastating status quo has long-term health implications for both mothers and their children, as well as our overall public health.

An article in The New York Times describes the way that the proliferation of fearmongering about chemicals by MAHA proponents has infected day-to-day parenting discourse. Convinced of the dangers of omnipresent toxic chemicals, mothers are guilt-tripped into purchasing more expensive “organic” goods and are sold numerous products to purify their water, detox their livers, and boost their immune system’s ability to fight toxins. Mothers in both conservative and liberal circles described a

sudden push within their communities toward drinking raw milk, shirking traditional childhood vaccine schedules, and adopting hypervigilance against microplastics, ultra-processed foods, and seed oils. The lifestyle of a perfect MAHA mom is unsustainable and unaffordable for most families, yet mothers are told that if they fail to guard their children from toxic chemicals, they are essentially poisoning them and dooming them to a life of chronic disease and mental illness.

In addition to creating unnecessary anxiety based on faulty evidence, the MAHA ideology advocates for explicitly dangerous decisions. Overriding scientific consensus, the CDC website now claims that “studies have not ruled out the possibility that infant vaccines cause autism,” parroting the anti-vaccine rhetoric that has led to the resurgence of many nearly eliminated diseases and caused preventable deaths and hospitalizations. In 2000, measles was declared eliminated from the United States. From 1997 to 2013, no more than 220 cases of measles were reported in any given year. So far, in 2025, more than 1,700 cases of measles have been reported, 92 percent of which have been in unvaccinated individuals or those with unknown vaccination status. So far, in 2025, three people have died from measles, more than in the past 25 years. The products that MAHA encourages people to consume can also be dangerous; raw milk, hawked by MAHA proponents, can carry harmful germs such as Salmonella and Listeria, which can, in extreme cases, lead to death.

Dismantling the influence of the MAHA conspiracy on motherhood and parenting requires more than just debunking, however. We must deconstruct the myth of maternal intuition and demand change to the current gendered division of labor. We must also recognize the legitimate, evidence-based threats to public health posed by climate change, corporate capture, and gross wealth disparities. Only then can we truly make America healthy.

Stateless in Space 

Space law must evolve to recognize the sovereignty of future orbiting city-stations

by Asher Patel ’28, an International and Public Affairs and Applied MathematicsEconomics concentrator and Staff Writer for BPR

illustrations by Rokia Whitehouse ’27, an Illustration major at RISD and Illustrator for BPR

Fast forward 500 years: Humans have founded research colonies on the Moon and Mars, scientists are working on how to land on Jupiter, and the dream of reaching Saturn is on the table. While this expansive vision of space progress is exciting, one needs to look no further than our dear planet Earth to realize that the modern international legal regime is not yet equipped to handle future space exploration. Since the rate and direction of space sector development remain uncertain, it is critical to examine policy holes in the current legal regime and develop preliminary solutions.

Instead of setting up camp on more distant celestial bodies, some theorists envision a future with city-sized orbiting bases that could remain in low Earth orbit, approximately 1,000 miles above the planet’s surface. Such city-sized bases, as depicted in popular media like the Interstellar movie, are often envisioned as donut-shaped vessels capable of accommodating all components of a modern economy and city, sustaining thousands of people. Further, while initial orbiting cities may require consistent resupply missions from Earth, any realistic plan ought to strive for long-run self-sufficiency.

Indeed, these stations would likely contain everything required to sustain a functioning society, including farmland, waste management systems, doctors, lawyers, schools, jails, hair salons, a monetary system, and the means to conduct any necessary repairs or routine maintenance. To sustain a population for generations, reproduction would have to be possible, a problem eased by the ship’s constant rotation, which would create artificial gravity, a critical condition for successful gestation and birth.

While achieving this self-sustaining reality is a problem for engineers and scientists, even if a city population were to live, reproduce, and die autonomously on an orbiting station, one critical question remains: Who should govern?

As defined by the United Nations’ 1967 Outer Space Treaty, any space object remains under the jurisdiction of the terrestrial state that launched it. In this document and subsequent UN space treaties, space is treated as a global commons, yet the physical structures built and launched into orbit are legally tethered to terrestrial authority. More recently, the International Space Station (ISS), operational since 2000, is managed under a jointownership framework, where each international partner has jurisdiction over the portion they developed—take Japan’s experiment module or the European Space Agency’s Columbus Research Laboratory, for example— and is entitled to utilization rights for the other sections of the station.

While the above system of state authority over domestically developed space assets works efficiently in the modern era, some key assumptions grounding this model break down in the context of a future self-sustaining city-orbiter. For one, the Outer Space Treaty was written at a time when space habitation was still speculative, and the ISS Intergovernmental Agreement governs a station with normal crew sizes of seven and usual mission durations of about six months. In addition, modern astronauts are selected, trained by, and eventually return to their home country, making them naturally deeply connected to Earth’s geopolitical order. These assumptions quickly fail when considering a self-sustaining station on which thousands of passengers would be born and would die, having lived their entire lifetime there. Thus, instead of the modern system of terrestrial government control, if a self-sustaining orbiting city station is achieved, the people of that station should be independently sovereign and not tied to the international governing structure.

While calling for a new sovereign people seems radical on the surface, the rationale for this view is predicated on three intuitive assumptions: Enforcement from a terrestrial body would be nearly impossible; the culture and people of the citystation would be unrecognizable compared to those on Earth; and efficient decision-making would be necessary to keep the station alive. Following the logic of these assumptions, the natural conclusion is that it is most practical for people who can survive the absence of terrestrial help to govern themselves accordingly.

First, given a self-sustaining orbiting city, consistent trade with Earth or any other form of contact (except mutually beneficial collision prevention) would be purely elective for the orbiting city. It is also unlikely that station inhabitants would have Earth-tied assets after multiple generations on the station. Thus, absent the option to use missile technology to attack the orbiting city directly, terrestrial states or organizations would have limited leverage to sway in-orbit decision-making toward a policy the station deemed unfavorable. Even the countries that helped build the station will have to accept that any such arrangements made during the station’s development are effectively void after multiple generations.

Arguably more important than the coercive power that terrestrial states might attempt to yield is the willingness of station residents to be politically ruled by these states. After generations, normal genetic variation combined with lifestyle differences will yield a genetically unique population in the closed-system station. Moreover, increased exposure to radiation will lead to additional divergence from terrestrial humans. As seen from NASA’s comparison of astronaut Scott Kelly to his on-Earth twin brother after one year on the ISS, differences in gene expression, the gut microbiome, protein pathways, and more arise after only a short time in space.

“While achieving this self-sustaining reality is a problem for engineers and scientists, even if

a city population were to live, reproduce, and die autonomously on an orbiting station, one critical question remains: Who should govern?”

“If a self-sustaining orbiting city station is achieved, the people of that station should be independently sovereign and not tied to the international governing structure.”

In addition to biological changes, after living and reproducing in a unique environment with different challenges, living conditions, and hierarchies, the station’s population will likely develop a distinct culture. As time progresses, the difference between the composition and customs of the station’s first inhabitants and its current residents will only grow, making the perceived legitimacy of the terrestrial government ever more tenuous.

Finally, from a pragmatic view, the space domain is exceptionally unforgiving. In the event of an expected oxygen or food shortage, necessary repairs, or an increased risk of radiation, effective decision-making and on-station policy implementation will be crucial to sustaining the orbiting city. Furthermore, such problems are likely to recur, making them easier to solve as the population gains experience and divides into specialized expertise. Not only does this process not require oversight from a terrestrial body that knows less about the situation, but the inhabitants may also be practically worse off if they rely on slow communication for clearance in an emergency. Of course, things like ground-based monitoring and tracking data might be very useful in disaster mitigation. Still, this level of data sharing is consistent with how sovereign states share data today. As such, there is no clear pragmatic advantage to having terrestrial-based leadership.

Tying the three assumptions together, the argument for a sovereign orbiting city is satisfactory when considering its ability to assert its sovereignty, the will of its population, and the pragmatic utility of independence in decision-making. While this result is intuitive, its

significance should not be underestimated. Although the last space-focused UN treaty entered into force over 40 years ago in 1984, the space sector has continued to scale and progress exponentially, a trend fueled by ever-falling launch costs and $393 billion invested across over 2,000 space companies. Even if it is unclear whether sustained human habitation will be achieved within the next few hundred years, rapid development in the space sector is imminent. When a technology becomes feasible, we face rapid changes without much warning, which necessitates the creation of new policy ahead of time. For example, in 2019, there were only about 2,000 satellites in orbit, but by 2023, the number increased to over 9,000, sparking a US effort to reevaluate its space debris mitigation policy—a difficult task due to limited prior research.

Under the constant uncertainty of what the space sector could yield, it is paramount that our leaders consider space law edge cases and prepare modifiable policies for use when a breakthrough technology is reached. Even if an orbital habitat exists in fiction today, exploring its legal implications ensures that when science catches up to our imagination, our institutions will not be decades behind. 

“After generations, normal genetic variation combined with lifestyle differences will yield a genetically unique population in the closed-system station.”

Narc Nightmares

2015’s Sicario prophesizes the consequences of Trump’s War on Drugs

The 2015 film Sicario by French-Canadian director Denis Villeneuve features US strikes and troop deployments to combat Latin American “narcoterrorist” drug cartels across the Southern border. After FBI agents raid a cartel safe house and discover dozens of bodies murdered by the fictional “Sonora Cartel,” the American president designates a number of Mexican criminal cartels as foreign terrorist organizations (FTOs) and authorizes the US military to deploy lethal force against them. US troops enter Mexico, but their plan soon devolves into a vicious gunfight at a border crossing, and security cooperation between Mexico and the United States breaks down. Though the US government prevents the events from reaching the press, it nearly becomes an international diplomatic catastrophe.

Although Sicario is fictional, it draws many parallels to President Donald Trump’s current regime change and anti-cartel ambitions. Because of these similarities, Sicario offers a compelling idea of how US intervention in Venezuela, Mexico, or another nation may not go as Trump hopes.

In our current reality, powerful criminal syndicates in Mexico, Central America, Colombia, Venezuela, and the Caribbean engage in violent drug trafficking. Drugs sent to the United States cause tens of thousands of overdose deaths every year. Drug-trafficking groups like the Sinaloa Cartel and Jalisco New Generation Cartel (CJNG) are so powerful that they operate as a shadow state in many areas of Mexico, committing terrorist attacks and influencing politicians.

In February 2025, President Trump designated eight cartels as FTOs. Since then, he has unilaterally struck 22 alleged drug-smuggling vessels, killing at least 80 people. Claiming that Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro is the leader of a “narco-terrorist” network, Trump announced a $50 million bounty for his arrest and authorized CIA agents to operate inside Venezuela. Additionally, he has stationed 10,000 American troops and 10 F-35 fighter jets in Puerto Rico, and sent the USS Gerald R. Ford, the most expensive warship ever built, on its way to Venezuela.

Trump and his advisors, Secretary of State Marco Rubio and Secretary of War Pete Hegseth, maintain that the recent US moves against Maduro are purely to curb alleged drug trafficking by the Cartel de los Soles—a criminal terrorist organization embedded, according to Trump, within the Venezuelan military and political brass. However, Trump’s true motive is broadly understood to be regime change in Caracas. When asked by a reporter if he is bent on regime change, Trump said that “Maduro’s days are numbered.”

Maduro is not backing down from confrontation. He has already mobilized the Venezuelan air force and Bolivarian militia, mass conscripting 4.5 million people. In a post-Maduro Venezuela, it would be challenging for the US to ensure stability and prevent a similar politician from filling the power vacuum. Perhaps the pro-American, persecuted opposition leader María Corina Machado would take power, but the mechanisms for installing her in Caracas are not clear. Both Trump’s alleged mission of stopping drug trafficking and his likely goal of ousting Maduro are more easily said than done, and no long-term stability will be achieved without

by Nicholas Freund ’28, a History concentrator illustration by Bath Hernández ’26, an Illustration major at RISD and Art Director for BPR

“In a country whose most violent areas are also some of its poorest, decades of neglect and corruption have only made the problem worse—two factors that cannot be rooted out with rifles.”

an improvement in the material conditions of Venezuela’s citizens. As The Washington Post recently declared, “Maduro braces for a U.S. attack; Venezuelans worry more about dinner.” Both Trump and Rubio have also floated the idea of US drone strikes or troop deployments against Mexican cartels and the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC), a socialist paramilitary group now primarily engaged in drug trafficking, despite Mexico’s objections.

If Mexico’s recent history is any indication, criminal cartels are not easily defeated through force. In 2006, after a series of cartel terror attacks in Michoacán, former President Felipe Calderón declared a war against drug trafficking in Mexico. Since then, almost 200,000 people have been killed across the country. This high cost has done little to curb drug trafficking. In fact, Mexican cartels are more profitable and powerful than ever, soliciting favors from the highest levels of government, boasting military-grade weapons, and bringing in $40 billion annually from their vast illicit trade networks that include fentanyl sourced from China. In a country whose most violent areas are also some of its poorest, decades of neglect and corruption have only made the problem worse—two factors that cannot be rooted out with rifles.

Apart from the fact that an armed intervention in Mexico is unlikely to eradicate drug trafficking, any military action would also bring suffering for the most vulnerable populations. In addition to the combatant lives lost, anti-narcotic operations against the FARC in Colombia, the cartels of Michoacán in Mexico, and President Nayib Bukele’s gang crackdown in El Salvador have all led to the collateral detainment and death of innocent civilians. Villeneuve illustrates this human cost of anti-narcotic operations viscerally on screen in Sicario, where action scenes in war-torn Ciudad Juárez are interspersed with scenes of children playing soccer and families going about their days mere yards from hailstorms of bullets.

While Trump believes that solving the US drug crisis means looking abroad, many state governments across the Union are also working to prevent drug overdose deaths in their jurisdictions, showing that domestic drug reform must also be part of the equation. Trump’s fight against the cartels may beat back some of their influence, but the truth is that Americans will continue to die from drug overdoses regardless of who their dealer is. This is perhaps Sicario’s most important message: A truly effective war on drugs is far more difficult than dropping bombs. 

ChatGPT, Fix My Gvernment

Diella, Albania’s AI government official, will not fix a decades-long corruption battle

by Ben Hader ’ 28, an International and Public Affairs and History concentrator and Staff Writer for BPR

Albania’s newest cabinet member is pregnant…with 83 babies. But do not worry, she is not human. Meet Diella, Albania’s “AI minister.”

Diella was “born” on January 19, 2025, with the job of managing Albania’s ‘e-Albania’ platform, which digitally provides over 1,200 public services to Albanian citizens. From completing school registration to filling out job applications, Diella can help. Since her inception, Diella has stamped 36,000 documents, increasing the accessibility of bureaucratic services.

On September 11, 2025, Prime Minister Edi Rama formally appointed Diella to a new role—AI minister. Her promotion makes Diella responsible for Albania’s billion-dollar public procurement process, in which Albania’s government purchases goods and services from the private sector. Public procurement is a hotbed for governmental corruption in Albania: the country scored a 42 out of 100 on the 2024 Corruption Perceptions Index, which scores countries on their public sector corruption. By evaluating each tender, assessing its merit, and deciding whether or not to award a contract to the private firm seeking the tender, Diella will supposedly prevent public procurement corruption, an issue that has plagued Rama’s government.

For Rama, Diella’s “incorruptibility” is a key mechanism to joining the EU by 2030—a major campaign promise of Rama’s that has been impeded by Albania’s decades-long struggle with corruption. In recent years, Albania has grown closer to accession into the EU, only needing to meet one final cluster of policy criteria—fundamentals—which includes public procurement forms.

The use of Diella as an anticorruption measure by Rama has been marketed as a groundbreaking innovation. After all, Diella is the first AI system to serve in any country’s cabinet. However, while Diella’s professed purpose is to win EU favor by eliminating corruption and advancing technology’s role in government, her appointment acts more as a propaganda tool for Rama’s administration. As Diella’s parliamentary presence proliferates with the announcement of her babies, Rama risks creating an unchecked political entity that can sway government policies. Diella’s lack of oversight, dependence on American technology firms, and undemocratic ties to Rama’s Socialist Party instead threaten to compromise Albania’s path to EU accession and jeopardize the country’s long-term democratic development.

Diella, meaning “sun” or “sunshine” in Albanian, is depicted as a young woman in traditional Albanian wear— propagandizing the party’s desire to “eliminate corruption” as a national duty. Rama embeds Albanian nationalism within Diella’s visual display to signal a unified, traditional Albanian identity that predates globalization—all while paradoxically achieving this through a novel usage of artificial intelligence.

Diella is presented as an accountabilityproviding force for Albania’s government but no political mechanisms hold her accountable. She cannot be impeached; she is not real. Therefore, what happens if she makes a harmful decision? AI models, too, feature bias based on their decision-making data, and Diella’s data is undisclosed. Diella’s model is designed by Albania’s National Agency for Information Society (AKSHI), which reports directly to Rama. Biased training data and other design choices, as well as the lack of transparency, shape Diella into a political device that will likely decrease accountability for Rama and his Socialist Party allies rather than providing a source of neutrality as an independent actor. With AI in charge, any blame for corruption in public procurement can be shifted away from Rama’s administration and onto Diella.

While Diella brings data privacy concerns and obscures political neutrality, what is known is that her model is built using foreign technology—another challenge to holding Diella accountable. Diella runs on Microsoft Azure with OpenAI models, both of which are US platforms. While AKSHI provides Albanian government data, Diella’s decisionmaking is determined by US technology, rendering her dependent on the United States to appropriately protect sensitive information. The Albanian government cannot monitor the decisions of these US tech firms in the way that it can monitor Albanian companies, since US technology companies remain largely outside the purview of the Albanian government.

Although Diella has been championed as an effective method of decreasing corruption for EU accession, she does so by shirking the EU’s own AI guidelines. The EU’s 2024 AI Act outlines AI-related regulations that Albania currently does not follow, including the requirement to provide a summary of what content is being used to train Diella. Because Diella provides access to critical infrastructure, she is considered a “high-risk” system and must receive oversight by an independent “national competent authority” that Albania has yet to instate.

Furthermore, Diella’s newly announced “babies” are a domestic threat to effective democracy because they privilege Rama’s Socialist Party. Diella’s 83 “children” will serve as assistants, recording legislative sessions and offering policy suggestions. But only the Socialist Party’s 83 parliamentarians can access them, marking a clear partisan divide in which government officials can benefit from Diella’s assistance. As Diella becomes a minister—and thus increasingly important in the government— gatekeeping access to her becomes democratically problematic. If Rama’s technology-forward vision excludes many of the politicians that Albanians elected, it dangerously skews the country’s political system in favor of the Socialist Party.

“As Diella’s

parliamentary presence proliferates with the announcement of her babies, Rama risks creating an unchecked political entity that can sway government policies.”

Diella, in her ministerial role, is a microcosm of the Rama regime’s contradictory politics regarding democracy and corruption in Albania. Rama has served as Albania’s prime minister since 2013, winning reelection most recently in 2025. During this election, which occurred on May 11, Rama bused Socialist Party workers to rallies in support of him and stationed his supporters at polling stations, manufacturing an image of broad support to intimidate opposition voters. Prior to the election, he blocked TikTok on the grounds that it harms youth mental health—but this action, as opposition leaders argued, was intended to silence dissent. Rama champions the protection of the rule of law in Albania—an EU necessity. But his opposition suppression tactics, including selective access for Diella’s babies, counter any democratic gains.

For Rama, holding his own party accountable risks losing the crucial support that he needs to hold a majority in Parliament, allowing him to be the sole governing prime minister. Yet, he can dismiss any opponents to Diella as opponents to his fight on corruption itself—thus villainizing them as roadblocks to Albania’s modernization. A propagandized crusade against corruption through a groundbreaking inclusion of AI in governmental processes gives Rama both the EU support he needs and the shiny facade to cover up the suppression of his opponents. Diella’s AI ministry looks to be another chapter in Albania’s history of corruption rather than an answer for it. In the meantime, observers will be waiting to see when her babies take their first steps in Parliament. 

 Stolen Vows 

Kyrgyzstan’s bride kidnapping “tradition” is not as ancient as it seems

by Mitsuki Jiang ’ 27, an International and Public Affairs and Applied Mathematics concentrator and Managing Web Editor for BPR

illustration by

Haley Maka ’26, an Illustration major at RISD and Illustrator for BPR

In rural Kyrgyzstan and parts of southern Kazakhstan, when a young man decides he wishes to marry, his parents scour to find the perfect bride. After a suitable bride is picked out, the prospective groom and some of his male friends or family members kidnap the girl and forcefully bring her back to his family home. Then, the family attempts to convince her to accept the marriage and threatens her if she declines. If necessary, the girl is held captive for several days or until she consents to the terms of the marriage. Her protests may be audible, but they go unheard. Her consent is disregarded. By the time her family finds her—if they were even searching— she is already married, and it is too late.

This practice, known as bride kidnapping or ala kachuu (literally “catch her and run”), is particularly widespread in Kyrgyzstan, although it remains somewhat prevalent elsewhere. While bride kidnapping may sound like an outdated custom, today, as many as one in three marriages in rural Kyrgyzstan begin with the practice. Although bride kidnapping is often narrated as an “ancient” Kyrgyz tradition, this is merely a fiction of

ethnonational identity that covertly perpetuates oppression against women. Thus, interrogating whether bride kidnapping can truly be labeled an ancient tradition both exposes how such fictitious narratives can normalize coercion and creates space to dismantle the practice in its entirety.

In Kyrgyzstan, the labeling of bride kidnapping as an ancient tradition legitimizes the practice by making it appear to be historically mandated. Grandmothers tell mothers, who then tell their daughters, that getting kidnapped into a marriage is simply a rite of passage. However, historians and researchers debate the exact origins and contexts of the practice in Kyrgyzstan. Some believe that nonconsensual bride kidnapping has been around for centuries, while others cannot find any trace of bride kidnapping prior to the 20th century and instead argue that the practice became more prevalent following the collapse of the Soviet Union to promote a uniquely Kyrgyz national identity. Regardless of its true temporal origins, there has been an unprecedented rise in the occurrence of bride kidnapping in the

“Although bride kidnapping is often narrated as an ‘ancient’ Kyrgyz tradition, this is merely a fiction of ethnonational identity that covertly perpetuates oppression against women.”

post-Soviet era, indicating that, even if the practice occurred in ancient times, its true place in Kyrgyz history is decidedly contemporary.

Justifying bride kidnapping as “tradition” has served to hide other practical, socioeconomic motives that have little or nothing to do with culture. The practice is most common in rural Kyrgyzstan, which encompasses some of the country’s most impoverished communities. Men who come from poorer families are more likely to engage in this practice, and, as poverty and unemployment have been widespread in post-Soviet Kyrgyzstan, the prevalence of marriages that begin with kidnapping has risen. These men may engage in kidnapping a bride as the quickest path to marriage, or to avoid paying the kalym—the “bride price”—required in a traditional Kyrgyz marriage, which often includes as much as $4,000 in cash and livestock paid to the bride’s family. Additionally, a kidnapped bride’s family may choose not to seek her return for economic reasons, since the bride’s living and education expenses become covered by the man’s family. It is therefore evident that the construction of bride kidnapping as a tradition often only serves as a facade for other, more practical interests.

Regardless of the motive, there are lasting consequences of nonconsensual bride kidnapping. In some cases, women may commit suicide in protest of or to escape the marriage. Others become victims of domestic violence. In fact, the Sezim Crisis Center, a Kyrgyz NGO that runs a domestic violence hotline, estimates that roughly 15 percent of calls they receive come from individuals in relationships that started with a bride kidnapping. Women who stay in these marriages are also adversely affected in their chances of obtaining employment and economic security when compared to Kyrgyz women in consensual or arranged marriages. Often, this is because they are wed into families who do not support their education or employment, forcing them to abandon it. In turn, girls born into kidnapping-based marriages are more likely to emigrate to “escape” Kyrgyzstan, further draining the country’s economy.

Perhaps counterintuitively, although bride kidnapping has been on the rise in Kyrgyzstan since the fall of the Soviet Union, it has also subsequently faced increased legislative backlash. Bride kidnapping was officially de-legalized in 1994, shortly after Kyrgyzstan’s independence, and in 2013, the Kyrgyz government passed a law increasing the penalty for perpetrators of bride kidnapping from three to seven years in prison. Later, in 2016, the government enacted a new law specifically written to punish perpetrators of underage or forced marriages and their accomplices.

However, legislative measures alone are far from enough to end the practice, especially when they do not reach their intended audience. In this case, more than half (58.1 percent) of Kyrgyzs in rural areas are unaware that kidnapping is even a crime. As such, women in Kyrgyzstan are increasingly taking matters into their own hands and fighting against this practice by refusing to be coerced into their kidnappers’ marriage arrangements. Collectively, women are protesting, creating support groups, and migrating

to bigger cities to resist the practice. Preventative measures taken by both the United Nations and several NGOs have somewhat decreased cases of bride kidnapping, as have collaborative public education campaigns between the Kyrgyz government and the United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF). However, despite legislative action, justice for bride kidnapping victims has been difficult to obtain. In the past few years, 93 percent of bride kidnapping court cases were dropped “for lack of evidence,” and there is no telling how many more were never filed. While public opinion on bride kidnapping has declined across Kyrgyzstan, a concerning portion of the population would still tolerate the kidnapping of a relative (20.8 percent) or believes that bride kidnapping is entirely normal (5 percent). It is no wonder that girls continue to flee the country, since it is evident that existing preventative measures fail to adequately protect them from the practice.

As long as a significant part of the Kyrgyz population and local officials continue to believe in the narratives that prescribe bride kidnapping, no law or severity of punishment alone can defeat it. Instead, ending the practice should begin with removing the ability to justify its continuation under the guise of “tradition.” Questioning the “ancient” nature of bride kidnapping removes its sense of historicity and uncovers the not-so-cultural motives behind its prevalence—only then can we open the door to finally banishing its existence. 

“Justifying bride kidnapping as ‘tradition’ has served to hide other practical, socioeconomic motives that have little or nothing to do with culture.”

Spirit of Revlution

Evangelical distortion of Haiti’s independence narrative has reached the Republican Party’s top ranks by Keyes Sumner ’ 27, an International and Public Affairs and Economics concentrator and Senior Editor for BPR illustrations by Ranran Ma ’26, an Illustration master’s Student at RISD and Illustrator for BPR

“The American evangelical Christian right, however, has woefully misconstrued this mythologized ritual that took place over 200 years ago as a satanic pact.”

During the 18th century, the French colony of Saint-Domingue was the most lucrative in the world. Its wealth was derived in large part from sugar plantations, which were owned by a white landed class and labored on by West and Central African slaves. During SaintDomingue’s century of French colonial rule, it supplied the majority of the Western world’s sugar and generated billions annually in today’s dollars. For the enslaved population—which constituted the majority of the colony—the working conditions were brutal: At least 500,000 enslaved Africans perished on Saint-Domingue’s plantations.

One of the few forms of cultural exchange slaves had with those from neighboring plantations was during Vodou ceremonies. Ingrained in Haitian national legend is one specific Vodou ceremony, which took place at Bois Caïman—woods in the far north of the colony. Stories tell of a fateful August night in 1791 when thousands of enslaved people gathered to hear the words of spiritual leader Dutty Boukman amid the sacrifice of a black pig and prayers to Iwa, the deities of Vodou. There, the colony’s subjugated Black population made the decision to rebel against their French enslavers, kick-starting the most successful slave revolt in history. The details of the night shift from story to story—speakers change, locations differ, and sacrifices and prayers never quite match up. These inconsistencies have led many historians to question whether a singularly consequential ceremony ever took place at Bois Caïman. It is perhaps only a mythic representation of many ceremonies that allowed slaves to partake in the cultural exchange that fomented revolution. Regardless, the ceremony at Bois Caïman has become an integral part of both Haitian national identity and its relationship with the West. The American evangelical Christian right, however, has woefully misconstrued this mythologized ritual that took place over 200 years ago as a satanic pact. This narrative has imprinted itself onto the top rungs of the modern Republican Party, spelling harm for modern Haitians and Haitian Americans.

Bois Caïman was followed by 13 years of revolution that culminated in Haitian independence. But after liberation, the fledgling state still had to fight an uphill battle. After its revolution, the United States and European powers—fearing Haiti’s success would inspire their own enslaved Black populations—refused to recognize or trade with Haiti. France demanded that the nascent nation pay “reparations” to the former Saint-Domingue slave owners, crippling the nation with debt that American and French banks exploited for centuries. When an antiAmerican government later threatened to stop debt payments, the United States violently invaded Haiti, forcing the nation to give over 40 percent of

“In Haiti, commemorations of the ceremony have served as important markers of identity, nation-building, and resistance against colonial oppression.”

its income to service its “debt” and forcibly changing Haitian law to best serve American interests.

To make matters worse, Haiti sits at the boundary of the North American and Caribbean tectonic plates, with a fault line running right through its capital, Port-au-Prince. Catastrophic earthquakes continually wrack the country. Some estimates conclude that the 7.0 magnitude earthquake in 2010 killed nearly 300,000 people. Although Haiti’s successful independence movement was a true underdog victory, due to this international antagonism and abject geographical unluckiness, the nation remains mired in poverty, corruption, and violence.

Starting in the late 20th century, Haiti became a hub for American evangelical missionaries. They saw Haiti’s syncretic Vodou—itself a blend of African animism and Roman Catholicism, which many Haitians now practice alongside Catholicism—as incompatible with Christianity. Many of these missionaries also believed in ‘spiritual mapping,’ the idea that earthly conflicts and tragedies reflect spiritual warfare in the supernatural realm. The theory posits that some poor nations are under “demonic possession.” Thus, missionaries are called to exorcise such demons from the nation. The popularization of this ideology among American evangelicals ascribed a distinctive abhorrence and impurity to Haiti. This rhetoric manifested most clearly in Protestant interpretations of Bois Caïman. In the wake of the 2010 earthquake, televangelist Pat Robertson famously expressed during a TV broadcast that the ritual at Bois Caïman was a satanic pact, and Haiti’s generational poverty was not due to imposed isolation or environmental tragedy but celestial revenge.

On its face, this assertion is antiquated, offensive, and puzzling; it is hardly Christ-like to curse a brutally oppressed slave population fighting for its freedom. But the narrative’s real danger lies in its modern political consequences. After his death in 2023, CNN called Robertson one of the founders of the modern GOP. He was a constant influence on the leaders who forged the Republican Party’s new conservatism, such as Ronald Reagan. Starting in the 1980s, evangelicals became a crucial pillar of the GOP, using their influence to dictate social policy. As a result, the evangelical conception of Haiti and Haitians as “cursed” wormed its way into US governance.

During the 2024 presidential debate, the night’s most viral soundbite was President Donald Trump claiming Haitian migrants in Springfield, Ohio, were “eating the dogs,” in reference to a disproven rumor that was spreading on social media. During the vice presidential debate, Vice President J.D. Vance targeted a specific type of visa status disproportionately used by Haitians as “illegitimate.” While Trump and Vance did not specifically reference Haiti or Vodou during the debates, Louisiana congressman Clay Higgins (R-LA) was more explicit. On X, he posted “Lol. These Haitians are wild. Eating pets, vudu [sic], nastiest country in the western hemisphere, cults, slapstick gangsters,” thus connecting Haitians’ supposed “nastiness” to Vodou. During the public backlash, Speaker of the US House of Representatives Mike Johnson (R-LA) called Higgins a “principled man” and “dear friend.” As many would say, Higgins had “said the quiet part out loud” and illuminated the reasons behind the fabricated, repeated

inflammatory attacks on such a specific diaspora. Haiti’s Vodou identity, as exemplified by Bois Caïman, made Haitian migrants uniquely “dirty” and thus threatening.

The widely circulated claims about the consumption of pets increased racial and ethnic discrimination, but since Trump’s victory, Haiti and Haitians have also suffered policy setbacks. Shortly after taking office, the Trump administration cut hundreds of thousands of Haitians’ protected status, aiming to send them back to a country plagued by gang violence. In June, Trump instituted a travel ban on Haiti, citing concerns that Haitians would overstay their visas. The policy has left many Haitian families indefinitely separated, and it threatens Haiti’s remittance economy, which makes up about a fifth of the nation’s GDP.

The ceremony at Bois Caïman will always be veiled in mystery and shrouded in uncertainty, yet it has become real through its enduring power to shape modern perceptions of Haiti’s unique history. In Haiti, commemorations of the ceremony have served as important markers of identity, nation-building, and resistance against colonial oppression. Fictionalizations of the event by evangelicals, however, have allowed the United States to continue to interfere with and subjugate the Haitian people. Instead of pointing fingers at spiritual evil, we must acknowledge the evil of our own doing.

“In the wake of the 2010 earthquake, televangelist Pat Robertson famously expressed during a TV broadcast that the ritual at Bois Caïman was a satanic pact, and Haiti’s generational poverty was not due to imposed isolation or environmental tragedy but celestial revenge.”

Dollar Cronyism

Trump’s proposed bailout of Argentina politicizes US currency policy

by Andrea Fuentes ’26, an Economics and History concentrator and Staff Writer for BPR

illustrations by Awele

Chukwumah

’26, an Illustration major at RISD and Illustrator for BPR

President Donald Trump’s $40 billion bailout plan for Argentina represents a resurrection of dollar diplomacy—a term describing the practice of using US financial power to influence foreign politics. Over the 20th century, the dollar became increasingly influential, granting the US Federal Reserve enormous power over geopolitical outcomes, particularly in Latin America. The Trump administration seeks to return to this strategy with Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent calling the proposed bailout an “economic Monroe Doctrine.” Trump’s plan, however, has already hit roadblocks: It failed to secure backing by private banks who recently “shelved” the proposal. More importantly, the Trump administration’s politicization of swap lines risks making a bet on Argentina that will ultimately fail.

Unlike traditional swap lines where central banks—including the US Federal Reserve— exchange currency, the Trump administration’s proposed bailout took the unconventional form of a Treasury swap: The United States would buy Argentine pesos with US dollars, essentially betting on pesos becoming more valuable in the future—a risky move in a country haunted by decades of chronic fiscal and macroeconomic instability. Concerningly, the bailout appears to have been motivated largely by the administration’s political calculus, a sharp contrast from previous credit swap lines that used rigorous economic analysis when determining how to influence the consequential world of global currencies.

In July 1944, the Bretton Woods Conference brought together global powers to establish a new post-World War II economic order, including measures preventing countries from manipulating currencies in ways that jeopardized global stability. American dominance as a postwar economy and key financial benefactor secured the dollar’s role as the system’s anchor currency. Over time, this framework evolved into a system of international lending to protect countries from crises, positioning the Federal Reserve as the lender of last resort. A key part of this arrangement involved swap lines—agreements lending US dollars to foreign central banks, who would repay with interest. During the 2008 financial crisis, these swap lines expanded dramatically. At their peak, the outstanding swap drawings—that is, the amount of swaps issued by the federal government—accounted for over 25 percent of the Federal Reserve’s total assets.

By deciding which countries receive swap lines and under what terms, the Federal Reserve determines which economies can access stabilizing dollar liquidity. Accordingly, the foreign exchange market (FX) has always been politicized. For example, countries granted swap lines during the 2008 financial crisis, like Mexico, Brazil, and Japan, aligned strongly with the US policy preferences in capital account openness. Still, ensuring repayment has historically taken precedence over political considerations. The Federal Reserve has been highly selective, requiring that borrowers have significant economic

mass (such as high GDP and a robust financial sector), prudent fiscal policy, and substantial holdings of US assets (such as FX reserves and US Treasury securities). Argentina falls short of these criteria, with its volatile economy, fragile institutions, and chronically depleted reserves.

The bailout would likely prove neither a prodigy of bilateral rescue nor a successful revival of dollar diplomacy. Argentina has been marked by chronic fiscal and macroeconomic instability since 1950, cycling through four failed stabilization regimes: from the hyperinflation and closed markets of the 1960s to the peso-dollar peg and subsequent crises of the 1990s. Each experiment collapsed due to deficits that the government could not finance through tax revenue, monetary expansion to fund spending, and the rapid depletion of reserves. Simultaneously, foreign lending has repeatedly failed to address the country’s structural weaknesses, such as its overdependence on the dollar and boombust cycles marked by political instability and overspending.

On its face, buying Argentine pesos with taxpayer money was meant to project US confidence in Argentina’s economic trajectory and, as Bessent stated, prevent it from becoming

“Swap lines are normally run by the Federal Reserve to provide temporary liquidity, not by the Treasury to place a speculative bet on a foreign currency.”

another “failed or China-led country in Latin America.” Yet, this precaution is undermined by Argentina’s lack of a credible long-term economic strategy and the high likelihood that the policy would be ineffective. Meanwhile, the United States would be assuming a great deal of risk: If the swap failed, taxpayer dollars would be vacuumed into a personalist experiment. Swap lines are normally run by the Federal Reserve to provide temporary liquidity, not by the Treasury

to place a speculative bet on a foreign currency. The Treasury has never intervened in the global FX market by unilaterally purchasing foreign currency, and the fact that private banks were so skeptical further proves how risky this unprecedented action is.

The proposed bailout of Argentina has exposed the erosion of institutional credibility in US financial diplomacy. The signal on the global stage is that US currency policy is an extension of the president’s political personality, redoubling the Trump administration’s attacks on the Federal Reserve’s independence. This kind of erratic intervention threatens US financial soft power, turning the Treasury and FX markets into yet another stage for the administration’s shift from technocratic realpolitik into personality politics.

An Asian Spring?

Sri Lanka and Nepal’s Gen-Z–led movements have one key difference—institutional support

by Kimaya Balendra ’28

, an International and

Public Affairs and Economics

concentrator and Staff

Writer

for

BPR

illustrations by Orla Maxwell ’27, an Illustration major at RISD and Illustrator for BPR

“Ok Boomer Time’s Up!” read a cardboard sign, clutched tightly in the hands of a Nepalese boy still in his school uniform. He stood among thousands of others on the streets in Kathmandu, Nepal. They called for an end to the government’s social media ban, enacted just four days earlier, as well as to broader corruption that has dominated headlines for years. This wave of school uniforms embodied Nepal’s September 2025 uprising, a campaign operationalized by the notoriously fired-up ‘Gen Z.’

Seeing many young faces like mine in the picture, I was vividly transported to Colombo, Sri Lanka in 2022. The Aragalaya (Sinhala for “struggle”) movement tore across Sri Lanka demanding the president’s resignation due to hunger, power cuts, and empty gas stations. This movement, also largely driven by student organizers, kicked off what some political commentators are calling the “Asian Spring,” as Gen Z protests continue to sweep across southern Asia. For a moment, the faces of the young Sri Lankans and the Nepalese students blended in my mind. Calling for an end to economic inequality and political corruption was the essence of both movements. But will they both be able to achieve their goals?

Both movements, led by students and young people, successfully ousted the most powerful

members of their governments. Sri Lanka’s President Gotabaya Rajapaksa resigned after furious crowds stormed his presidential palace in July 2022. Similarly, Nepal’s prime minister, Khadga Prasad Sharma Oli, resigned after renewed protests over the killing of 19 anticorruption protestors in clashes with the police. National and international media even criticized both movements for setting fire to important government buildings—the Sri Lankan prime minister’s residence and the Parliament of Nepal. Yet, despite these surface similarities, Sri Lanka’s movement appears better positioned to achieve an enduring transformation of its political system, primarily because established institutional actors have been incorporated into state reconstruction efforts.

Although political parties in Sri Lanka—such as the leftist National People’s Power (NPP) coalition formed in 2019 out of a mix of 21 political parties, civil society organizations, and trade unions—did not play an initial role in the organization of the Aragalaya due to concerns among protestors that the movement may appear to have been controlled by a political party and thus undermining its universal appeal of anti-corruption, other institutional actors did. Unions such as the Inter University Students Federation

and the Socialist Student Union (affiliated with the NPP) played integral organizational roles. This demonstrates that Sri Lanka’s movement has been supported by institutional actors from the beginning. The involvement of established unions gave the movement leadership and legitimacy, helping to sustain it in its early days.

Once the initial fiery phases of the movement had passed and an interim president was in place, the NPP emerged from the Aragalaya as representatives of the struggle. The NPP was able to convert collective rage into electoral power. They carried the spirit of the protests into the 2024 elections, where the NPP’s anticorruption campaign triumphed. The NPP won a two-thirds majority in parliament, and shortly after, the presidential candidate Anura Kumara Dissanayake polled 42 percent of the vote and became the new president of Sri Lanka. This was, unbelievably, a party that had only three seats in the previous election. By channeling the movement’s ethos into electoral results, the NPP made the movement sustainable. With this unprecedented turnaround, Sri Lanka demonstrated that mass mobilization paired with institutional involvement—civil society and political parties—can lead to favorable, stable change.

Nepal, on the other hand, charted a different course. Instead of empowering a trusted opposition coalition to take control, the horizontal, leaderless movement that emerged from social media appears unable to establish a stable, legitimate new government. Nepal’s revolution was digitally driven, sparked by children of prominent leaders flaunting their wealth online in one of Asia’s poorest countries. Enraged, the relatively unknown Nepalese non-profit, Hami Nepal (“We Are Nepal”), used Discord and Instagram to cultivate dissent and invite people to the streets. Thousands of people turned out to these massive demonstrations, causing the prime minister’s resignation. The digital facet of this revolution also influenced the appointment of Sushila Karki as the interim Prime Minister through an election hosted on Discord. A Supreme Court justice who became infamous in Nepal for jailing an active minister for corruption, Karki is the first

woman ever to hold the position and will head the government until elections in March. The movement definitely achieved some of its aims, but it is questionable whether this will lead to electoral change as it did in Sri Lanka. The protests lacked infrastructure in traditional channels, with minimal participation from unions or established political groups. Although Karki is now the prime minister, she was hastily appointed by a few thousand protesters who participated in an online vote and has no significant prior political experience. Karki is not even affiliated with an established party, so it is unlikely she will remain in a major political role after the elections. Karki’s lack of affiliation with partisan politics is part of her appeal, but it also means she has no organizational scaffolding—a party that genuinely represents the people’s will—to support any long-term ambitions for change. Channeling rage into legislation is a long game and requires strategic organizational efforts, not a one-woman show. Social media is not designed for long-term change: It moves quickly, from topic to topic, depending on algorithms and hashtags rather than organizational capacity. Many recent digitally-driven protests, including ones in Africa and Hong Kong, have failed. Without institutional backing, the young Nepalese students may not see the change they desperately seek.

Once the fires died down, some felt little hope for the future. Nepal remains poor and plagued by rising unemployment and government corruption that persists despite the resignation of its former prime minister. With renewed urgency, these students continue to look for ways to leave their country.

Despite this, there is hope for Nepal’s transformation. The protests are representative of the broader political culture of the country, which is ambitious, fed up with the status quo, and determined to change the Nepalese state. This will was strong enough to topple a corrupt Prime Minister and christen a new leader. Sushila Karki—a fresher, cleaner figure not part of the old political establishment—could yet be an effective changemaker in a system weighed down by clientelism and corruption. It has only been some short months since the protests, which means Nepal could surprise us in time.

Institutional involvement might be necessary for protest movements to achieve sustainable change, but is it alone sufficient? The newly empowered NPP in Sri Lanka may not actually deliver on its promises when strangled by International Monetary Fund programs, crushed by debt to India and China, and operating with an economy in ruin. Dissanayake’s government can only boast small victories after one year in power, such as trimming wasteful subsidies and expanding some targeted welfare programs. Big

election promises remain unfulfilled. While there is obvious uncertainty surrounding the ability for a Discord server to facilitate genuine reform, there is still a question of whether institutional actors can even translate protest energy into meaningful reform. Overthrowing governments is the easy part. Rebuilding them under the weight of geopolitical and economic constraints is the real test.

“This movement, also largely driven by student organizers, kicked off what some political commentators are calling the “Asian Spring,” as Gen Z protests continue to sweep across southern Asia.”

THE NEXT GENERATION ENTERS THE ARENA THE NEXT GENERATION ENTERS THE ARENA

An Interview with James Thibault

Interview by Arjun Ray ’28

by Kaitlyn Stanton ’26

Elected to the New Hampshire State Legislature in 2024, Representative James Thibault is currently the youngest state legislator in the United States (R-NH-25). He is simultaneously enrolled at St. Anselm College as a sophomore studying politics. Thus far in his tenure, he has primarily focused on policies relating to education and youth well-being, in keeping with his campaign’s message. Before his victory—which unseated a three-term incumbent—Thibault garnered a reputation as a rising force in Gen Z politics. In 2023, he was appointed as one of two New Hampshire Senators to the American Legion Boys Nation program, and in 2024, he was selected as a US Senate Youth Program delegate.

Arjun Ray: James, thank you for interviewing with BPR. It is a pleasure to speak with you. How has your first term been so far?

James Thibault: So far, so good. We have had three days of sessions thus far, and committee work has been progressing smoothly. I serve on the Executive Department and Administration Committees, dealing with state pensions and the retirement system. A lot of the work we do is bipartisan, although it is a new field of statute for me.

AR: As one of the youngest legislators in American history, how have the reception and dynamics been?

JT: It has been a warm welcome. There is a clear understanding that I am still learning, and it is going to take time. There are folks who have been there for decades and are very set in their ways, which is challenging to acclimate to at times. Politicians are people with big egos, right? It is surprising to see it in a chamber of 400, where we are all paid $100 a year. Still, it has been largely positive so far.

AR: Looking ahead, how would you summarize your goals for the next legislative session?

JT: My priorities are ensuring educational freedom for students in New Hampshire and protecting parental rights. Both of those are coming up: The Parental Bill of Rights was introduced in committee last week, and we will vote on universal Education Freedom Accounts, which would allow students in New Hampshire to choose the education that is best for them. We have a bill in the Senate right now to ensure universal enrollment in any school for every student.

AR: As you move to pass that legislation, how is the atmosphere in the legislature right now, in terms of partisan attitudes and the general atmosphere post-election?

JT: We feel great about it. As Republicans, we hold the governor’s office, a House majority of 221 to 178, and a supermajority in the State Senate. We can essentially pass whatever we want. Now, there are times when we shoot ourselves in the foot. We had a Right to Work bill two weeks ago that failed because 25 Republicans decided to vote for indefinite postponement, killing the bill and blocking us from introducing similar legislation until after the next election—a difficult roadblock. While we have a large majority, we need people to actually follow the party line with important votes.

AR: How has your office’s support network been as a freshman?

JT: We are on our own. If you look up my name on the State House website, the phone number is my cell, along with my home address and all of that. We respond to all our own emails and phone calls. But we get assistance from the House majority and the speaker’s offices. The folks at St. Anselm College, which I attend, are also very supportive. The administration and professors know I have to split my time. Everyone has been incredibly supportive when it comes to figuring out the logistics of juggling college with legislative life.

AR: Take me back to right before the primary for your seat, when you were a high schooler but obviously much more politically experienced than most other teenagers. What made you take that next step to toss your hat in the ring and run for office?

JT: It was something I was always considering. My first-choice college was Georgetown—when I found out I was waitlisted, I was disappointed. I wrote a letter of continued interest, but ultimately realized the likelihood of admission was very low and began figuring out what would come next. I looked at St. Anselm College… I love it here. It has everything relating to the first-in-the-nation presidential primary, and I get to stay in New Hampshire.

“I am, to my knowledge, the youngest state legislator in the United States. It is a responsibility not only to my constituents, but to other young people across the country, which I take seriously.”

AR: To what extent do you think your legislative activities are going to be influenced by national trends?

JT: One of the big things right now is budget season. During the Covid-19 era, we became incredibly dependent on federal funding. Now that it is going away, we have to be more efficient with spending. We see some of the national rhetoric seeping into our state: Governor Kelly Ayotte (R-NH) has introduced the Commission on Government Efficiency, which will help root out waste, I hope. Beyond that, we are focused on delivering for our constituents without much regard to what happens nationally. The challenge with New Hampshire’s legislative system is that all bills are drafted before the session in January. We have about three weeks after the elections to submit them, and they are typically drafted by the end of December. The only way to introduce bills after that is with a two-thirds majority in the House. We work on those bills from January to June, which also means we can not be as responsive to things.

AR: Do you think that timeline is something that should change, or is there a rationale behind it?

JT: Between the House and the Senate, many bills are introduced. This year we have around 1,200—down from last year’s record high of nearly 1,400. We are not drafting these ourselves—we have attorneys specializing in state law who write these for us. The average cost for one is about $2,500, which adds up. If we allowed bills to be introduced whenever, it would mess with the flow of committee scheduling. Late introductions would make it significantly more time-consuming and costly for the state. We have a very efficient system that can get through all these bills within six months, which I do not think any other state can say.

At that point, I decided to run because it was a more valuable learning experience than anything else. It is incredibly rewarding to represent my constituents. I have seen the problems, especially with our education system, firsthand. I have lived here my entire life and wanted to make a difference in my community, and I thought that I would be the best person available to do that. The primary was tough—I won by a slim 5.2 percent, or 68 votes. But I feel incredibly blessed that my constituents decided to trust me with this honor and responsibility. I am glad to say I am, to my knowledge, the youngest state legislator in the United States. It is a responsibility not only to my constituents, but to other young people across the country, which I take seriously.

AR: Do you have a long-term vision for yourself after you graduate?

JT: I absolutely intend to run for reelection in two years. After that, I will take it by what my constituents want… I do not want to force anything upon them. At some point, I would like to attend law school, which I will factor in. I fully intend to focus on the next two years, and God willing, another two years after that to put my constituents first and prioritize the issues they care about, especially with education and child safety. My constituents also care about, of course, the bread-and-butter issues of affording their mortgage payments, keeping property taxes down, and ensuring they can put food on the table. Those are the things I hear about every day, and I am committed to fighting for them.

Edited for length and clarity.

No Ummah for Uyghurs

Islamic nations turn a blind eye to China’s repression of Uyghurs

by Samdol Sichoe ’28, an International and Public Affairs and Philosophy concentrator and Staff Writer for BPR

illustration by Ellie Lin ’27, an Illustration major at RISD and Illustrator for BPR

For decades, Islamic nations have invoked ummah solidarity to express outrage over injustices affecting Muslims. From Palestine and Kashmir to the Rohingya crises, leaders within the Organization of Islamic Cooperation (OIC) frame solidarity with oppressed Muslims as a moral responsibility. Yet today, as China orchestrates a campaign of mass repression and cultural erasure against Uyghurs and other Turkic Muslim minorities, much of the Islamic world has remained silent, or worse, defended China’s actions. To many, this is not just a betrayal of a religious ideal, but an assault on the very architecture of the human rights order—principles that Islamic states have themselves invoked when defending Muslim communities elsewhere. Perhaps global Islamic solidarity was

always weaker than its rhetoric suggested, undermined not only by states that openly reject human rights norms, but also by the quiet hypocrisies of those who profess to defend them while selectively overlooking other abuses.

Since 2014, China’s “Strike Hard Campaign Against Violent Terrorism” has unleashed a wave of cataclysmic violence against Uyghurs in the northwestern region of Xinjiang. More than a million Uyghurs have been detained in a vast network of “re-education” camps where they are subjected to forced labor, sterilization, torture, sexual violence, and sweeping bans on language and faith. While allegations against China span from crimes against humanity to genocide, many Islamic nations have emerged as China’s most vocal defenders, praising its

so-called “counterterrorism” measures and rushing to quell discussion of the Uyghur genocide at the UN.

In October 2022, the UN Human Rights Council voted against debating the Uyghur genocide, marking the second time in the council’s history that such a motion had been struck down. Of the 19 nations that blocked this debate, nine were Muslim majority states—among them Pakistan, Indonesia, Qatar, and the United Arab Emirates (UAE)—alongside a broader cohort of authoritarian regimes, all with deep economic ties to China. Almost all of these nations had condemned atrocities against other Muslim minorities in the past. Saudi Arabia, one of the 50 signatories of a joint letter to the UN Human Rights Council commending China on their

“remarkable achievements” in “protecting and promoting human rights” in Xinjiang, had previously denounced Myanmar’s abuses against the Rohingya as “ethnic cleansing.”

What explains this complicity from Muslim majority nations? Many of these nations need external funding for development, putting themselves in a double bind where they either defend human rights principles or reap geopolitical gains. As part of the Belt and Road Initiative, China has poured billions of dollars into loans, ports, railways, and energy grids across Asia, the Middle East, and Africa, with implicit expectations of political loyalty from beneficiaries.

Pakistan is caught in the heart of this system. The China-Pakistan Economic Corridor (CPEC) is worth more than $60 billion and underpins Pakistan’s greatest efforts towards industrial revival and energy security. While Pakistan decries abuses against Kashmiri Muslims in India, Islamabad dutifully echoes Beijing’s “counterterrorism” and “deradicalization” talking points regarding their Uyghur concentration camps. Any public criticism would almost certainly risk jeopardizing Chinese loans, power projects, and debt relief efforts that Pakistan cannot afford to lose. The result is a foreign policy that is starkly hypocritical and intrinsically transactional.

This dynamic plays out similarly with the Gulf monarchies, none of whom have spoken against China’s persecution of its Muslim minority. China’s key 5G and surveillance technology exports, combined with the country’s large appetite for Gulf oil, seem to have dissuaded its partners in the region from raising any potential criticism of its domestic policy. Saudi Arabia was the top supplier of crude oil to China until 2023, the UAE counts China as one of its largest trading partners, and Qatar is host to one of China’s most significant energy investments in the Middle East.

Beyond economics, authoritarian or semi-authoritarian Gulf nations seek to legitimize their own repressive practices. Armed with imported Chinese surveillance technology, Gulf nations that routinely champion Muslim causes abroad preside over some of the world’s most abusive systems, exploiting their own Muslim migrant underclass. It is hardly surprising that China’s

model of maintaining social order appeals to them.

Turkey stands as another fascinating case, illustrating China’s use of economic and ideological carrots and sticks in buying the complicity of a state bound to the Uyghurs by both faith and shared history. Long described as a “safe haven for Uyghurs,” Turkey began reversing its earlier opposition to Chinese repression in Xinjiang as it grew increasingly estranged from the West. President Tayyip Erdoğan, who sees himself as a champion of Muslims around the world, denounced China’s treatment of the Uyghurs in 2009 as a “genocide.” Yet, after mass anti-government protests and a corruption investigation jolted his rule in 2013, Erdoğan turned towards non-Western superpowers—namely China—to consolidate his authority. This pivot brought tangible rewards: Turkey joined the Belt and Road Initiative in 2015 and has since received billions of dollars in loans, trade deals, and currency swaps to bolster its struggling economy. In return, Turkey has retracted its stance on the crisis in Xinjiang. Official statements and pro-government media echo Beijing’s claims that evidence of Uyghur persecution is “propaganda.”

China and its allies are hardly the only powers to instrumentalize and undermine human rights. Western countries—the United States in particular—have long abstained from criticizing human rights abuses for geopolitical reasons. Beijing has seized on this hypocrisy to discredit its Western critics. At the United Nations, Chinese diplomats frame Western human rights enforcement as interference, insisting that countries have the right to define rights domestically. This rhetorical inversion allows China to present its actions in Xinjiang not as repression but as social stabilization within the bounds of its sovereignty.

But acknowledging that Western powers also wield human rights as a geopolitical cudgel does not absolve any other nation of its crimes, nor does it justify silence. On the contrary, it reveals that the very acceptance of a universal set of human rights has been hollowed out from both sides of the new world order—the West, through its double standards, and China and its allies, through their blatant disregard for these principles. Equating Western inconsistency as

“Equating Western inconsistency as a justification for inaction on this issue risks erasing the lived reality of Uyghurs who have been detained, sterilized, or separated from their families.”

a justification for inaction on this issue risks erasing the lived reality of Uyghurs who have been detained, sterilized, or separated from their families.

The Uyghur genocide is not only a tragedy of great consequence, but also a test of the world’s commitment to the human rights standards it has readily invoked in other cases. Laying bare this inconsistency, particularly on the part of Muslim nations, exposes how the professed universality of human rights has been eroded by geopolitical calculations. In an increasingly realist international order, such rights can only endure if they are upheld universally, protected from selective moralism and strategic exceptionalism.

Military Makeover

Moscow’s shift from Wagner to Africa Corps signals greater control over African affairs

by Julianna Muzyczyszyn ’27,

an

International

and

Public Affairs and English concentrator

and

Senior Editor for BPR

illustrations by Anneke Beth ’26, an Illustration major at RISD and Illusrator for BPR

When the Wagner Group’s combatants advanced on Moscow in June 2023 in an attempted coup d’etat, their abortive mutiny offered a rare glimpse into what happens when a private military company (PMC) grows powerful enough to challenge the state. But as global media attention has remained fixed on the Kremlin’s many woes and internal divisions, the coup’s most enduring consequences have unfolded thousands of miles away—in Africa. The short-lived rebellion was arguably the final nail in the coffin of Wagner’s license to represent Russian foreign policy interests abroad. Its subsequent decline left a vacuum which the Kremlin has since been scrambling to fill. Since 2023, the Africa Corps—a new, state-controlled paramilitary group—has subsumed much of what remains of the Wagner Group and is progressively taking over its operations on the African continent. As the war in Ukraine drags on for the fourth year and Moscow grapples with economic uncertainty, precarious

diplomatic arrangements, and waning geopolitical influence, the importance of the African theater’s is skyrocketing. In an increasingly desperate bid to sustain the costly war, the Kremlin is consolidating its foreign influence and assuming direct responsibility for Russia’s security, diplomatic, and economic relations in Africa.

The Wagner Group emerged during Russia’s 2014 annexation of Crimea, with oligarch Yevgeny Prigozhin as its owner and financier, and elusive ex-military intelligence officer Dmitry Utkin as the field commander. Although PMCs are technically illegal in Russia, the organization received substantial state funding for its operations abroad. From 2017 onward, Wagner became heavily involved in at least six African countries (with suspected operations in at least two others), providing military support and security for governments or powerful

“In the wake of the mutiny, rebranding Wagner into a Ministry of Defense-led operation became a priority to reassert state control and prevent the reemergence of Prighozin, a warlord with an independent revenue stream and foreign policy agenda. ”

military and rebel groups in return for promised lucrative natural resource contracts.

In the Central African Republic (CAR), Wagner mercenaries were essential in propping up the regime of President Faustin-Archange Touadéra from 2018 onwards and supporting the CAR’s military in combating advancing rebel groups (amid accusations of numerous human rights abuses and the suspicious deaths of journalists investigating the group), effectively filling the security vacuum left by the withdrawal of French military forces in 2016. In exchange, through its elaborate network of shell and front companies, Wagner secured unfettered access to the CAR’s abundant gold mines as well as its redwood forests, where Wagner felled trees via dubious front companies. In Madagascar, Wagner combatants protected campaign consultants hired by Prigozhin himself to aid in the reelection campaign of President Hery Rajaonarimampianina. Despite his electoral defeat, Rajaonarimampianina handed over Madagascar’s state-owned chromite production company to a Russian firm right before leaving office. In Mali, from 2021 to 2025, Wagner aided the military junta in subduing an insurgency, likely in exchange for the state turning a blind eye to the group seizing some of Mali’s largest gold mines.

Despite its financial successes, the Wagner Group will soon be no more. After Prigozhin’s mutiny and death, and in the face of growing

“Military spending and battlefield consumption have amplified Russia’s economic woes: Demand for munitions has shot up, forcing Russia to import heavily from its few remaining partners and ramp up its domestic production.”

economic and geopolitical pressure stemming from the ongoing war in Ukraine, Moscow formalized a state-controlled replacement which has already absorbed the majority of Wagner’s structures, obligations, and operations. In 2023, the Ministry of Defense began folding the group’s activities in the Sahel into the new “Africa Corps” and dispatching ministry officials to secure critical relationships with governments in the CAR, Mali, Niger, and Burkina Faso.

Africa Corps’s model of operation is simple and, in some ways, similar to that of the Wagner Group. Small teams of advisors, trainers, and consultants deploy under the authority of the Ministry of Defense and train the country’s military. The Kremlin has pushed the CAR to swap Wagner forces for those of Africa Corps; meanwhile, in Mali, Africa Corps publicly vowed to remain on the ground after Wagner announced it was exiting the country in June 2025. Shortly after, Russian state firms sought mining, manufacturing, or trade concessions tied to their security relationships with the client countries. In April 2024, Africa Corps set up an air-defense system in Niger, and in September 2025, Niger and Russia entered talks about potentially developing the country’s uranium deposits.

But why institutionalize this model now, rather than outsourcing Wagner’s activities to one of the other PMCs which the Kremlin uses elsewhere? In light of a struggling war economy,

Russia needs long-term, stable relations with African nations. Wagner’s “‘gold-mine model,”’ whereby the Russian firms occasionally profited in Africa, is no longer sustainable. President Vladimir Putin now seeks energy deals, rare mineral agreements, government profits, and sanction-evasion assistance, the likes of which can only be achieved with ministerial involvement, not a PMC. Further suppressing continued support of PMCs are unstable domestic relationships between Putin and his oligarchs. In the wake of the mutiny, rebranding Wagner into a Ministry of Defense-led operation became a priority to reassert state control and prevent the reemergence of Prighozin, a warlord with an independent revenue stream and foreign policy agenda.

Sanctions and export controls have threatened Russia’s access to key technologies and cash. Washington and its Group of Seven (G7) partners tightened controls on microelectronics and other dual-use inputs after the 2022 invasion of Ukraine, drastically raising costs and forcing Russia to resort to elaborate sanction evasion schemes, largely via its African partners. On the revenue side, the EU embargo and G7 price cap have cut into oil income by forcing Moscow to sell in markets further away, where Russian oil companies are forced to accept lower prices and higher shipping costs. Military spending and battlefield consumption have amplified Russia’s economic woes: Demand for munitions has shot up, forcing Russia to import heavily from its few remaining partners and ramp up its domestic production. The result is a considerable premium on reliable raw materials and steady hard currency inflows that can be secured via non-Western partners. The Kremlin, therefore, is forced to prioritize economic ties to countries with weak ties to the West to fill the vacuum left by now-restricted traditional export markets, and to secure those countries’ assistance in evading sanctions on military technologies and transporting sanctioned goods via the shadow fleet.

Russia’s pivot from using a proxy in its African theater to constructing a ministerial apparatus for those operations is a clear consequence of the economic woes generated by sanctions, battlefield expenses, and restricted global trade options. Africa offers sanction-resilient two-way trading relationships and a cadre of easily influenced governments willing to abet sanction evasion efforts in exchange for regime security. By amalgamating these levers within the Ministry of Defense, the Kremlin prevents the emergence of prospective PMC-owning coupists, consolidates geopolitical influence within the government, and further secures key resource and trade contracts. The quiet replacement of the Wagner Group with the Africa Corps is perhaps the most recent symptom of the ground rapidly slipping from beneath the Kremlin’s feet.

A BROKEN COMPACT A BROKEN COMPACT

An Interview with Professor Jennifer Morton on higher education

Interview by Anita Sosa ’29

by Kaitlyn Stanton ’26

Jennifer Morton is a professor of philosophy at the University of Pennsylvania, with a secondary appointment at the Graduate School of Education. She has received the American Philosophical Association’s Scheffler Prize for her work in the philosophy of education. Her first book, Moving Up Without Losing Your Way: The Ethical Costs of Upward Mobility, was selected as Princeton President Eisgruber’s Pre-Read for the Class of 2025 and was awarded the Grawemeyer Award in Education, as well as the Frederic W. Ness Book Award by the Association of American Colleges and Universities. She has also held positions at the University of North Carolina–Chapel Hill, the City College of New York, the Graduate Center-CUNY, and Swarthmore College.

Anita Sosa: In your recent talk at Brown University, you spoke about the growing disconnect between universities and the broader public good. Can you describe what this relationship was originally supposed to look like?

Jennifer Morton: One way of thinking about the relationship between higher education and American society is using the idea of a compact. Higher education produces benefits and goods that are good for our society at large, and in return, the federal government and states fund higher education. Typically, we’ve thought about this as an investment in what’s called ‘human capital.’ The states and the federal government are investing in universities in order to have an educated workforce that will contribute to society.

AS: On this idea of distance from community after college: many students of elite universities go into corporate sectors such as finance, consulting, or big tech. How do you think this relates to what you said about the benefits universities provide to society, and the compact writ large?

JM: One concern that I’ve had is that part of the idea of the compact is that universities educate future citizens who are going to be using that education for the public good. For jobs that we think benefit society, such as doctors, teachers, and social workers, education enables students to hold these positions. Now, tech, finance, and consulting jobs are somewhat beneficial to society, but they are maybe not what we need most. If you take a step back and think, what do we need most as a society? It is probably still people who go into medicine, into education, [and] into other varieties of public service. On that front, many universities seem to be failing to motivate students to go into those sectors. I don’t want to blame students. There are a lot of factors at play. Some of it is the cost of higher education; if you’re going to pay that much money to go to college, it makes sense that you want to make money after. But that’s a concern I have, that when you look at it from the outside, and you think, are universities educating students for the benefit of society? I don't know. It might seem like educating students for their own benefit.

AS: You’ve written about the ethical costs of upward mobility, especially for disadvantaged and low-income students. How does this kind of relationship affect them and what they give back to their communities?

JM: My work on first-generation and low-income students has to do with the fact that for many of those students, going to college is not just getting a degree that will help you get a good job, but often a way of distancing yourself from your home, although not necessarily intentionally. This is particularly true at elite universities, where you’re entering a social world that might be very unfamiliar to your family, but it is the place where opportunities are. The most stark example here is students who grew up in rural, low-income communities and who end up attending the flagship public university in their state, or maybe even an elite research university. In many of these rural communities, there are not many job prospects for someone with a college degree, so it’s unlikely that they would go back.

“I see with my own students who come into college thinking that they’re going to do something in the service of the public, and then end up getting drawn into these pathways of big tech, finance, consulting, partly because that’s very much in their face all the time.”

AS: Are there some ways that universities can help to motivate or facilitate students to go into jobs that create benefits for society?

JM: We can have this conversation with students in their first year of college, ask them, “What do you want out of your degree?” and “What is the value that you see in receiving this education?” One factor here is that we do facilitate pathways for students going into big tech, finance, and consulting; those firms are recruiting at college campuses, so it’s very salient to students that it’s an option. I see with my own students who come into college thinking that they’re going to do something in the service of the public, and then end up getting drawn into these pathways of big tech, finance, consulting, partly because that’s very much in their face all the time. Something that we could do is think about how to make alternatives salient and attractive.

AS: On this idea of distance from community after college, many students spend years here and then leave for jobs in other cities or even countries, often in the corporate world. From your perspective, do individual students have any kind of obligation to the communities that they come from?

JM: I’m not sure if college students have an obligation, per se, to the communities where they come from, but it might be worth thinking about how many resources are invested in your education. There’s so much money that makes a place like Brown function, some of which comes from the federal government. So then you think, if the American public is in some ways underwriting my education, do I have an obligation to think about how I give back more broadly? Maybe not to the particular community you came from, but to the American public in general. One thing I try to tell my students is that you can still have a path that is geared towards

“One thing I try to tell my students is that you can still have a path that is geared towards being in the service of the nation, even if it is corporate.”

AS: Given the current political climate, where public trust in higher education is on the decline, do you think this link between corporate jobs and higher education has some factor in that?

JM: Put yourself in the mindset of someone who is not connected at all to this world of elite education, and thinks, what do those students end up doing? They see these students becoming very wealthy, and that they end up kind of pursuing those pathways that we’ve been talking about. You might start to feel skeptical of the whole thing. Especially when there are billions of dollars from the federal government going to these universities. When so many students end up going down that path, it might feel like the money being spent is not something that benefits you, but something that benefits the elite.

being in the service of the nation, even if it is corporate. I think it’s about having the question in the back of your mind, how can I give back? How can I help people who don’t have the opportunities that I do? How can I try to demonstrate that my education is not just for my benefit, but for the benefit of the community? If we keep those questions in the front of our minds, whatever you do, you could find ways to make some progress in giving back.

Edited for length and clarity.

Scentralized Power

The oligopolistic structure of the luxury fragrance industry has benefits

by

Tess Naquet-Radiguet

’27, a Behavioral Decision Sciences and Political Science concentrator and Senior Editor for BPR

illustrations by Emily McShane ’29, a Film, Animation, and Video major at RISD and Illusrator for BPR

Dew pearls on iris leaves, glistening in the pale light of the early morning sun. White blossoms infuse the air with their characteristic scent of jasmine. The landscape blooms with centifolia roses and fragrant lavender, flamboyant against the clear blue sky. Most of these flowers will be hand-picked as buds, their essence distilled into little glass bottles and sold to one of four companies that commodify their scent. Welcome to the fragrance industry: a classic oligopoly.

Together, International Flavors & Fragrances, DSM-Firmenich, Symrise, and Givaudan control almost two-thirds of the fragrance market. They distribute their products worldwide, supplying a range of industries from luxury perfumes and home goods to nutrition and biosciences. In 2023, EU antitrust authorities accused the Big Four of anticompetitive business practices, filing an antitrust lawsuit alleging that they conspired to fix prices and limit the production of fragrance compounds. The penalty for such transgressions

can be as high as 10 percent of the companies’ global turnover, and with a combined annual revenue of over $35 billion, the Big Four are facing astronomical fines. But these penalties would not cripple their market power. The Big Four’s compounds are so thoroughly embedded in our everyday consumer goods that their reach is inescapable. Thanks to our pervasive demand for their products, they will likely recover from the most punitive damages EU regulators could inflict. And, as detrimental as the Big Four’s concentration of power is to sectors that supply necessities, an oligopoly in the perfume industry might not be as harmful as conventional wisdom suggests.

As hygiene practices developed in 19th century Europe, perfumes changed from a necessity to combat strong odors prescribed to the rich to a fashion accessory for the masses. Fragrance consumption boomed, and because synthetic compounds could be manufactured at a lower cost than natural fragrances, perfume companies

gravitated toward artificial scents to meet the sudden increase in demand. In recent years, however, consumers have once again begun to demand fragrances made from natural ingredients, forcing the Big Four to reinvest in the ecological and cultural preservation of terroirs—the complete natural environments, including soil, topography, and climate, in which flowers are grown. Each terroir imparts its flowers with a distinctive scent, and, by tending to the very soil that sustains their production, the Big Four ensure the consistency of their fragrances from year to year.

Grasse, a region in southern France known as the “home of perfume,” benefits firsthand from this venture. The town’s perfumery expertise was immortalized in 2018 when UNESCO recognized its intangible cultural heritage. Since then, the Big Four’s commitment to sourcing natural raw materials has bolstered the region’s artisanal perfumeries, protecting its unique intergenerational know-how and manufacturing processes steeped in tradition. In doing so, the companies have inadvertently highlighted an upside of the perfume oligopoly: Controlling such a large proportion of the market means that the Big Four do not have to be concerned about their survival, and can invest excess profit into developing sustainable manufacturing practices.

It is simply not a feasible manufacturing model for smaller suppliers. The Big Four operate in the upstream market of the fragrance industry, supplying luxury perfume brands with the ingredients needed to create their signature scents. Many of these brands have exclusivity clauses with specialty flower domains in the south of France, preventing smaller suppliers from sourcing the same ingredients. Private estates prefer to sell their flowers to large companies that will continue to purchase the same quantities year after year. Because the Big Four are the only companies capable of investing millions of euros in research and development, the oligopolistic structure of the fragrance industry ultimately benefits producers. In return, the Big Four have invested in acquiring or rehabilitating terroirs, providing direct economic support for local growers and craftsmen, and revitalizing Grasse’s economy. These efforts are both costly and laborious, and are unlikely to be profitable unless the company’s production reaches an economy of scale. It’s a win-win situation: The Big Four profit from the luxurious allure of natural, eco-conscious scents, while Grasse benefits from their considerable investment in its local economy, culture, and ecosystem.

Although major fragrance companies have emphasized sustainable agricultural practices that use less water and rely on natural cultivation techniques, the Big Four’s pivot toward sustainability does not suddenly efface the industry’s ecological drawbacks. Ethical sourcing and

“Many of these brands have exclusivity clauses with specialty flower domains in the south of France, preventing smaller suppliers from sourcing the same ingredients.”

eco-conscious production are not uniform across all industry players. Climate change remains a principal concern, forcing manufacturers to irrigate more often and invest in heat lamps to preserve the quality and quantity of their flower crop during cold winters. Synthetic chemical alternatives, while cheaper and less labor-intensive than traditional production methods, may pose greater environmental challenges than they solve. The volatile organic compounds that comprise synthetic fragrances can negatively affect human health, while phosphates used can cause algae blooms in freshwater that deplete the ecosystem’s oxygen. Still, as a result of the Big Four’s eco-conscious manufacturing practices, two-thirds of the fragrance industry is one step closer to sustainability. If the barrier to entry for fragrance suppliers were lower, the oligopoly would surely revert to producing more cost-competitive synthetic fragrances to defend its hegemony. So, although some manufacturers may be priced out of the current market, the benefits of global advances toward sustainability outweigh the costs of a more exclusive industry.

In the meantime, consumers perceive fragrances as a luxury good and a means of selfexpression, and are therefore relatively unbothered by a higher price tag on unique scents. Consumers would be less likely to be able to use perfume as an expression of individuality in a freer market, where fragrance companies would have an incentive to develop less complex and unique scents to cater to a wider range of consumers and more quickly bring a perfume or cologne to market. To test whether a scent will be profitable, brands will typically run focus groups during the development process to ensure consumers are satisfied with the fragrance. However, the Big Four are not chasing marginal increases in revenue to remain competitive in their market, meaning they care little whether each one of their scents appeals to as broad a consumer base as possible. Rather, the Big Four rely on nez—master perfumers that craft luxury fragrances from base to head notes—to create unique fragrances that emotionally resonate with customers. If the Big Four were not confident that they would pull in profits regardless of how niche these specialty products become, they would not have so much freedom to detach their fragrance production from bland consumer preferences. Subject to free-market forces, the oligopoly would have to resort to selling commodified perfumes that offer neither a complex scent nor a compelling narrative. Our desire for individuality thereby bolsters premium brands that develop niche fragrances and often require natural flower extracts sourced from the Big Four. The oligopoly continues to rake in profits, which it reinvests in sustainable manufacturing and the preservation of terroirs

“As a result of the Big Four’s ecoconscious manufacturing practices, two-thirds of the fragrance industry is one step closer to sustainability.”

There are arguments to be made about the inherently problematic structure of oligopolies, which EU regulators have used in their lawsuit against the Big Four. But tying up the industry’s four biggest players in litigation is unlikely to open and protect the fragrance market in the long run. Rather, EU regulators might consider collaborating with local governments to subsidize parts of their perfume economy, allowing smaller suppliers to source raw materials from the same flower estates as the Big Four to foster greater competition among fragrance manufacturers. Designating domains as sites of cultural heritage might prevent large-scale construction projects and could incentivize more companies to invest in ecological preservation. Strengthening the enforcement of eco-conscious production methods and mandating energy-efficient infrastructure could reduce the environmental impact of fragrance production and drive the industry toward longterm sustainability. These measures might provide long-term benefits to the fragrance industry as a whole, but will require a concerted effort by EU regulators and local governments. Until such structural changes are possible, however, it would be short-sighted to blindly pursue an antitrust lawsuit that might ultimately sacrifice cultural preservation and sustainability in the name of free-market capitalism.