Before We Fear AI, Fear the Threat We Already Built

Turn on the news today, and AI is at the top of the news cycle. Artificial intelligence is having its moment, and it is difficult to find a major issue receiving more attention. Around the world, the conversation has a familiar refrain: AI could get out of control. It could threaten humanity. Slow it down, regulate it, cooperate globally and put guardrails in place before it is too late.

Everyone is talking about AI. The companies building it and the companies making the chips that power it are talking about its risks. Scientists, politicians, business leaders and governments are debating how fast it should advance, how it should be regulated and whether sufficiently powerful artificial intelligence could someday threaten humanity itself.

Those concerns deserve serious attention. But much of the proposed solution seems to depend upon one enormous assumption: that somehow the nations (and major AI corporations) of the world will come together, agree upon the danger and establish meaningful global rules to control it.

Are we kidding ourselves?

Look at our record. We already face global threats requiring exactly that kind of international cooperation, and we haven't solved them. Did I miss something, or did nuclear annihilation and environmental threats somehow go away while we were talking about AI?

Consider nuclear weapons. There is nothing theoretical about their destructive potential. We built them more than 80 years ago, demonstrated what they can do, and today nine nations possess about 12,200 nuclear warheads. About 4,000 are deployed with operational forces, with 2,100 to 2,200 kept on high operational alert.

Doesn't it seem obvious that nuclear weapons simply do not belong in a civilized world? Full stop.

These are weapons with a known capacity for destruction on a scale unlike anything else humanity possesses. Their danger isn't theoretical, nebulous or dependent upon predictions about what they might someday become. We know what they are capable of doing.

Yet humanity cannot agree to eliminate them.

After generations of diplomacy, treaties and negotiations, nine nations still possess nuclear arsenals. On February 5, 2026, New START—the last treaty legally limiting the strategic nuclear arsenals of the United States and Russia—expired without a successor treaty.

That brings us directly back to AI.

If the world cannot reach lasting agreement about the obvious danger of possessing weapons with the known capacity to devastate civilization through a single catastrophic decision, how can we realistically expect nearly 200 sovereign nations to reach enforceable agreement about something as nebulous and difficult to contain as software?

Climate change provides another example. Nearly every nation came together around the Paris Agreement, certainly a diplomatic accomplishment. But countries' emissions commitments are nationally determined, and the agreement's compliance process is explicitly non-punitive. Nations agreed that a global problem deserved a global response, but what emerged was an agreement largely dependent upon countries meeting their own commitments, without an international authority capable of enforcing their emissions targets.

Agreement is not enforcement. A conference is not compliance. Acknowledging a common danger is very different from accepting the economic, political or military sacrifices necessary to eliminate it.

AI makes that challenge even greater. AI isn't sitting inside a missile silo where an inspector can count it. It is software. It crosses borders electronically, can be copied or concealed, advances rapidly and promises enormous economic and military advantages. If one nation believes a competitor is developing substantially more powerful AI, will it voluntarily restrain its own development—or accelerate it?

There is another reason AI and nuclear weapons should be part of the same conversation.

AI doesn't have to push the nuclear button.

Humans can remain completely in control of that decision. AI merely has to influence the information upon which the decision is based.

Military and intelligence organizations must process enormous quantities of satellite imagery, radar information, communications and intelligence reports. AI could dramatically improve that process. But imagine a nuclear crisis in which leaders have only minutes to determine whether an apparent attack is real. An AI-supported system could misinterpret information, be deliberately deceived, make an innocent error or present an incorrect assessment with such apparent confidence that humans trust it.

The computer would not have launched anything. Human beings would still make the decision. But they could make the most consequential decision in history based upon information produced, filtered or interpreted by artificial intelligence.

Perhaps, then, we are asking the wrong question.

Instead of asking only whether AI might someday acquire the power to destroy humanity, perhaps we should also ask whether AI could make humanity more likely to misuse the destructive powers we already possess.

None of this argues against AI safeguards. Establish reasonable standards. Test advanced systems. Protect critical infrastructure and maintain meaningful human control over military decisions. International cooperation should certainly be pursued.

But we should be realistic about what it can accomplish. Nearly 200 sovereign nations will not suddenly cease having competing economic interests, military objectives and national ambitions simply because everyone agrees AI could be dangerous.

If the possibility of technological extinction has finally captured the world's attention, perhaps some of that urgency should also be directed toward the technology already capable of producing it.

The greatest near-term existential danger from AI may not be that it invents an entirely new way to destroy humanity. It may be that we connect an extraordinarily powerful new intelligence technology to the extraordinarily destructive technologies we have already created.

We are worried that AI might someday acquire the power to destroy civilization.

The uncomfortable truth is that humanity already has that power.

The Great COVID SIn

 

When Government Chose Who Could Compete

Competition is the foundation of every free market. Consumers reward businesses that provide better products, better service, innovation, and value. Government's role is best fulfilled by preserving a free marketplace rather than participating in it.

That principle was quietly abandoned during the COVID pandemic when government decided which businesses were "essential" and permitted to remain open—and which were "non-essential" and required to close. To me, that was the Great COVID Sin—not because it was the most controversial policy of the pandemic, but because it permanently reshaped America's retail landscape in ways that continue today.

No company better illustrates the long-term consequences of that decision than Amazon.

Before the pandemic, the retail marketplace was already changing. Online shopping was steadily gaining market share because consumers—not government—were deciding where to spend their money. Then, almost overnight, the rules of competition changed. Companies deemed "essential," including Amazon, continued operating while thousands of competitors could not.

Consumer demand did not respond uniformly. Airlines, for example, remained essential businesses, yet passenger traffic collapsed because people stopped traveling. Retail was different. Consumers still wanted clothing, books, electronics, sporting goods, furniture, home improvement products, and countless other goods. The difference was that many of the businesses that normally sold those products were legally prohibited from opening.

To be clear, this is not an indictment of Amazon. Amazon is one of the greatest business success stories in modern American history. It has transformed retail, lowered prices, expanded consumer choice, and improved the lives of millions of Americans. For many families—including mine—it has become an indispensable part of everyday life.

But while Amazon raced to expand capacity to meet an unprecedented surge in demand, thousands of traditional "non-essential" retailers faced the opposite challenge: downsizing, preserving cash, laying off employees, and simply trying to survive.

The issue wasn't Amazon's success. It was the government's market interference.

The numbers tell the story. Amazon's annual revenue climbed from approximately $281 billion in 2019 to $386 billion in 2020—an increase of more than $105 billion, or nearly 38 percent, in a single year. Across the United States, e-commerce sales increased by approximately $244 billion during 2020, the largest annual increase ever recorded. At the same time, traditional brick-and-mortar retailers suffered sharp declines. For example, clothing and accessory stores alone lost more than $68 billion in sales, while bookstores lost nearly $3 billion. Not every dollar shifted because of government shutdown orders, but the scale of the redirection is unmistakable.

Some will argue that Amazon's growth—amid traditional retail's decline—was inevitable. Perhaps. Online commerce was already expanding rapidly before the pandemic.

But that isn't the point.

Traditional retailers may ultimately have lost market share to Amazon through innovation, pricing, convenience, and changing consumer preferences. They deserved that outcome if it resulted from fair competition. What they did not deserve was to be denied the opportunity to compete.

Government didn't merely accelerate an existing trend. It fundamentally altered the competitive process by deciding which businesses could continue serving customers and which could not.

The issue was never who ultimately won the competition. The issue was whether everyone was allowed to compete.

The effects didn't end when the lockdowns ended.

Between 2020 and 2025, numerous nationally recognized retailers—including J.C. Penney, Neiman Marcus, Brooks Brothers, Stein Mart, Stage Stores, Pier 1 Imports, and Tuesday Morning—entered bankruptcy, liquidated, or dramatically reduced their physical footprints. Many exhausted cash reserves, accumulated debt, lost experienced employees, and permanently surrendered market share. Many never reopened. Others survived—but permanently weaker.

Would Amazon have continued gaining market share without COVID? Almost certainly. Would traditional retailers have continued facing intense competitive pressure? Probably. But those outcomes should have been determined by consumers—not by government deciding which competitors could open their doors.

History will judge whether the public-health benefits of these policies justified their economic costs. But one consequence is already clear: government permanently altered the competitive landscape of American retail by deciding which businesses could remain open and which could not.

Free markets don't guarantee success. They guarantee every business the opportunity to compete under the same rules. Government's responsibility is not to decide who gets that opportunity, but to preserve a marketplace where consumers—not government—determine the winners and losers.

Is Government Too Big?

 A Common-Sense Look at the Scale of Modern Government

Some argue that government is too small, pointing to healthcare, infrastructure, defense, and social programs. Others argue that government has become too large, citing waste, bureaucracy, and an increasing disconnect from the realities faced by ordinary citizens.

But is there a practical way to evaluate the issue?

A simple common-sense way?

In 2000, the U.S. economy generated approximately $10 trillion of economic output (GDP). By 2025, that figure had grown to roughly $30 trillion—an increase of about three times.

During that same period, federal spending grew from approximately $1.8 trillion to more than $7 trillion—nearly four times larger.

Even more striking, federal debt grew from approximately $5.7 trillion to roughly $35 trillion—more than six times larger.

GDP tripled. Federal spending quadrupled. Federal debt sextupled.

Today, 25 cents of every economic dollar produced in America flows through the federal government—well above pre-pandemic levels.

More important, government spending has grown faster than the economy supporting it, while federal debt has grown even faster than government spending itself. Excluding the Federal Reserve, itself a government-created institution, the federal government has become the largest enterprise in the world—a $7 trillion mega entity.

Of course, government performs essential functions. But the question is whether the current scale of government reflects necessity coupled with sound fiscal management—or is it built upon bureaucratic expansion, institutional self-preservation, waste, and mismanagement.

Spending has grown faster than economic output. Debt has grown even faster than spending.

No individual, family, business, or organization can indefinitely spend faster than income while accumulating ever-growing debt. Common sense suggests government cannot either

Two Common Sense Reforms

If government has become too large, what can be done about it? The best place to start is with the people responsible for spending and the rules regarding spending – term limits and balanced budgeting.

First, implement term limits along with reasonable age restrictions. Public service should be an honor—not a lifelong profession. The Founders never envisioned generations of politicians spending thirty or forty years inside institutions increasingly disconnected from private enterprise and ordinary citizens. Long political careers create predictable incentives. Reelection becomes the priority. Difficult reforms are postponed. Institutional preservation gradually replaces institutional reform.

Age matters as well. Most Americans retire from demanding professional careers sometime in their sixties or seventies. Yet Washington routinely relies on elected officials serving well into their eighties. The issue is perspective. How can an eighty-year-old senator realistically represent the daily realities of a twenty-five-year-old software engineer, entrepreneur, or young family struggling to buy a first home?

In private industry, leadership eventually turns over. New generations bring new ideas, new technologies, and new ways of thinking. Government should be no different.

Second, implement a Balanced Budget Amendment phased in over ten years. Governments should retain the ability to borrow during wars, recessions, and emergencies. But structural deficits have become normalized, with politicians routinely approving massive spending while postponing the consequences to future generations.

A balanced budget is not a radical concept. It is one of the most widely accepted principles of responsible financial management. Families understand it. Businesses understand it. Most state and local governments already live with some form of it. Spending should generally be limited to what can reasonably be paid for.

Exceptions will always exist. But even then, borrowing should come with a realistic plan for repayment. The current practice of financing today's promises with tomorrow's debt is neither responsible nor sustainable.

A Balanced Budget Amendment would also make difficult political decisions easier. Rather than endlessly debating who is to blame for spending reductions, policymakers can point to a constitutional requirement that spending and revenues must ultimately align. In that sense, a Balanced Budget Amendment becomes more than a fiscal tool—it becomes a framework for achieving consensus. Difficult decisions still have to be made, but elected officials no longer bear sole responsibility for saying "no." The Constitution does it for them.

With these two reforms in place, we can begin restoring responsibility and accountability while helping ensure the long-term viability of our country.