We just lost a giant. With the passing of The Rev. Jesse Louis Jackson, Sr. at 84, it feels like justice, fairness and equity just lost one of it’s loudest megaphones. I grew up in the shadow of the Civil Rights Movement in the post- Jim Crow South…so this is heavy. Personal. We are watching the giants leave the stage, one by one. Flawed and human…but giants none the less.

My own connection to “The Rev” goes way back to 1984. I was just a young man at North Carolina Central University, wrapped up in that beautiful HBCU idealism. When he announced his run for President, it changed everything for us. We weren’t just checking boxes or volunteering for a campaign; we were watching a Black man stand up and demand the keys to the White House with a boldness that shook the country to its core. He was the one who looked us in the eye and told us we were “Somebody” long before the rest of the world was ready to admit it.

Just last year, the circle felt like it was closing. I had the honor of seeing him at the 60th Anniversary of the Edmund Pettus Bridge Crossing during a program at Alabama State. Honestly? It was tough to see. His body was softened by illness and his voice wasn’t the thunder it used to be. As a matter of fact he did not speak at all…but he was there. He was present; that is what mattered.

What I always appreciated about Rev. Jackson was that he was overwhelmingly human. He was a man steeped in the Baptist tradition, but he knew the Gospel belonged in the picket line and the corporate boardroom just as much as the pulpit. He was flawed, some would say very much so. My hope is that we use this time to look at the entire measure of his legacy…I know I will.

Think about the ground he covered:

• The Diplomat: He went into places like Syria and Cuba to bring Americans home when the “professionals” couldn’t.

• The Architect: He was pushing for corporate diversity and voting rights decades before they became mainstream talking points.

• The Trailblazer: Like folks are saying today, there is no Barack Obama without the trail Jesse Jackson hacked out of the wilderness in the 80s.

He died exactly how he lived, fighting for those that needed to be fought for. Even in 2021, when he was physically struggling, he was still out there getting arrested for voting rights. He truly believed that even in our “midnight moments,” we have to keep moving.

As we say goodbye to Rev. Jackson he showed us that a kid from Greenville, South Carolina, could move the world just by refusing to be ignored.

Rest well, Reverend.

But as I look at these warnings… all this hyperbole of “existential threats” and “sabotage reports” and I’m struck by the disconnect between the high-level fear in Silicon Valley and the ground-level reality in our communities and classrooms.

The “Safety” Gap

While the tech world is obsessed with whether AI will become “sentient” or create chemical weapons, I’m focused on a different kind of risk: The risk of leaving people behind. For the under-resourced departments and the first-generation students I work with, the “danger” of AI isn’t just a future sci-fi scenario. It’s the very real, present danger of a widening digital divide. If we spend all our time policing the ceiling of what AI can do without ensuring the floor is level for everyone, we’ve failed the mission of equity.

Moving from Fear to Stewardship

I’ve called AI the Great Equalizer. I believe it can be the “equity lever” that automates administrative burdens and frees us up for high-touch mentoring. But that only happens if we treat AI as a tool to be governed, not a boogeyman.

The news that OpenAI dismantled its mission alignment team is disappointing precisely because “alignment” shouldn’t just be about preventing a “Terminator” scenario. It should be about ensuring AGI benefits all of humanity, including the HBCUs and the social impact organizations that are often the last to get a seat at the table.

The Bottom Line

The disruption is here, and it’s moving faster than any of us anticipated. We should take the experts’ warnings seriously, but we cannot let fear paralyze the work of inclusion.

We don’t just need AI that is “safe”; we need AI that is just.

I speak for a continent that was never conquered. We call it Turtle Island, for we remember that the land itself rests upon the back of a great being, sustained only as long as we live in balance with it. Our Great Council is made of many nations, each sovereign, each distinct, yet bound by covenant to the land and to each other.

From your broadcasts, I hear of oceans rising and forests burning, of storms without mercy, of children fleeing hunger and war. I hear leaders argue whether the climate is real, while the sky itself testifies in clouds that do not shade and rain that does not nourish, but destroys. I hear of peoples divided by the color of their skin, by borders drawn in blood, by wealth piled high beside poverty’s abyss.

Hear me clearly: the Earth does not negotiate. No market can bribe her, no army can defeat her. She is patient, but not indulgent. In your world, you speak of “global warming” as if it were an item on an agenda. In ours, we know it as a breaking of covenant, a forgetting of who we are.

We are not without flaws. Our merchant guilds grasp too tightly, our cities grow too hungry, our confederacies quarrel. But we have remembered one truth: no trade is worth the death of a river, no progress is worth the erasure of a people.

This is my warning: if you continue on your path, your grandchildren will inherit a world not of promise but of ash.

This is also my invitation: turn while you can. Learn again to deliberate not only about profit, but about balance. Let your scientists sit with your storytellers, your engineers with your elders, your leaders with your children. Ask not, “How much can we take?” but “How much can we heal?”

I do not know if we will be able to speak again soon. But let this message travel through your chambers as a spark: across the breach lies a world that chose councils over conquest, reciprocity over extraction. We are not perfect, but we are living proof that another way is possible.

For the sake of your children’s breath and your grandchildren’s harvest, let these words not be curiosity, but catalyst.

I am Nokomis Sky-Woman, 14 Generations Speaker for Turtle Island. I have spoken.”

Rapid Audit

Thesis: The article warns of a looming AI bubble using emotionally charged analogies and selective comparisons, which risk overstating the inevitability of crisis.

Fallacy Roll-Call

• Appeal to fear — framing through horror-movie tropes and words like “Blob,” “Steroids,” “crisis of faith” primes anxiety rather than analysis.

• Slippery slope — implies that heavy AI investment naturally leads toward collapse, without considering stabilizing forces (cash flows, buybacks, diversified revenue).

• Hasty generalization — extrapolating from selected firms (Oracle debt, Nvidia plateau) to the entire AI ecosystem.

• Faulty analogy — equating AI buildouts directly to 1990s broadband or dot-com manias, despite structural differences in revenue models and adoption cycles.

Why it sticks

Humans lean on familiar stories. The “next dot-com bubble” frame feels natural: big promises, speculative capital, flashy names. But analogies can blind us—what looks like “the same movie” may differ in critical ways (cash reserves, scale of adoption, regulatory context).

Read Smarter (30-second checklist)

• Ask: What’s the metric for “bubble”? Is it valuations, debt levels, or earnings growth?

• Identify whether comparisons adjust for context (dot-com vs. hyperscalers today).

• Separate tone from evidence: Does the scary framing (“Blob,” “Steroids”) add clarity or just anxiety?

Reframe (steel-man)

“AI-related firms are driving a disproportionate share of market gains. While parallels exist with past bubbles, today’s cash flows and capital structures may buffer against extreme collapse. The key question isn’t ‘is there a bubble?’ but ‘which parts of the sector are overheated, and which are sustainable?’”

Audit Badge

• F-Density: 4 — multiple fallacies layered (fear, analogy, generalization).

• F-Severity: 3 — shapes perceptions, but with grounding in real data.

• Context Gap: 2 — some counterpoints included (e.g., Barclays, Deutsche Bank), but drowned by alarmist framing.

• V-Score: 2 — many claims verifiable (debt levels, returns), some vague (“crisis of faith”).

• I-Risk: 4 — can push investors toward herd exits or over-hedging.

Bottom Line

The CNBC piece mixes solid data with loaded imagery and one-size-fits-all analogies. That blend makes for engaging copy but risks turning healthy caution into exaggerated fear. As investors and citizens, we need to parse the signal (cash flow, debt, valuations) from the noise (horror-movie metaphors, dot-com nostalgia).

If this helped you read with more clarity, share it with one investor friend who’s feeling the “AI-nxiety.”

The Quote

“We are going to channel all the anger that we have over the organized campaign that led to this assassination to uproot and dismantle these terrorist networks … With God and as my witness, we are going to use every resource we have at the Department of Justice, Homeland Security and throughout this government to identify, disrupt, dismantle and destroy these networks, and make America safe again for the American people. It will happen, and we will do it in Charlie’s name.”
— Stephen Miller, The Charlie Kirk Show, Sept 15, 2025

The Fallacy Audit

1. Scare Tactics / Appeal to Fear
Creates panic by branding all opposition as a “vast domestic terror movement.” Fear substitutes for evidence.

2. Overgeneralization
Conflates doxxing, riots, and online criticism into one unified “terrorist network.”

3. Argumentum ad Baculum (Force as Proof)
Threatens to use “every resource” of government power as a substitute for reasoning.

4. Appeal to Heaven
Invokes God’s authority to sanctify repression, making dissent appear blasphemous.

5. Zero Tolerance Fallacy
Calls for complete eradication without proportionality, due process, or nuance.

6. Moral Superiority
Frames one side as pure and righteous, the other as wholly illegitimate.

7. Red Herring (Omission)
Ignores Jan 6th right-wing violence, redirecting outrage exclusively toward the Left.

Why It Matters

This is a classic authoritarian formula:

• Opposition = terrorism

• Suppression = righteousness

• Fear + divine authority = obedience

The damage is real. Once people accept the framing that dissent equals terrorism, free speech and protest no longer exist. Fear and moral superiority become the gatekeepers of truth, and government power becomes the only answer.

Field Note: The more loudly a leader promises to “make America safe again,” the more closely we should examine what freedoms are being quietly dismantled in the name of safety.

Every day we’re bombarded by headlines, ads, political statements, and viral posts. Many look convincing on the surface, but beneath the polish, they rely on illogical fallacies: tricks of language and thought that seem persuasive but prove nothing.

This series is my way of holding up a mirror to everyday communication. I call it Field Notes from a Community Interpreter because that’s what I aim to do: interpret the noisy, often manipulative messages we encounter, and show you how to spot the fallacies hiding inside them.

What are illogical fallacies?

Fallacies are errors in reasoning. They’re not just mistakes—they’re patterns. Once you learn to see them, you’ll notice them everywhere.

• Appeal to Incredulity: “You won’t believe…” invites shock instead of evidence.

• Red Herring: Distracting with something irrelevant to avoid the real issue.

• Straw Man: Misrepresenting an opponent’s view just to knock it down.

These tricks work because our brains are wired for shortcuts. We crave simple stories, certainty, and emotion. Fallacies exploit that.

Why poor thinking spreads misinformation

• Fallacies amplify emotions. Outrage and fear spread faster than nuance.

• Fallacies mask weak evidence. A strong headline or soundbite can cover for missing facts.

• Fallacies reinforce bias. We believe what feels right, even if it isn’t true.

Together, they create fertile ground for misinformation (falsehoods spread without intent) and disinformation (falsehoods spread deliberately). Both thrive when our reasoning skills are under attack.

What damage do they cause?

• Polarization: We retreat to outrage instead of dialogue.

• Distrust: We stop believing any source—even reliable ones.

• Poor decisions: From health choices to public policy, bad reasoning leads to bad outcomes.

Unchecked, fallacies don’t just cloud debate. They corrode the foundations of democracy and community.

What you’ll get here

Each Field Note will:

• Dissect a real-world example (headline, ad, speech, or viral post).

• Name the fallacies and show where they appear.

• Explain why they’re persuasive, and why they’re flawed.

• Offer a steel-man rewrite: how the claim could be made without the fallacy.

• Provide a quick “Read Smarter” checklist to apply right away.

Think of it as a media survival guide: practical, plainspoken, and portable.

Why it matters now

Misinformation isn’t just about fake news sites or conspiracy theories. It seeps into mainstream headlines, corporate press releases, campaign talking points, and even everyday conversations.

By learning to spot fallacies, you reclaim your attention and strengthen your ability to think clearly in a world that profits from confusion.

In my last from this series, I talked a bit about the danger of AI + the lack of memory…what happens when we focus just on doing a thing without wondering IF that thing should be done. In this writing, let's look at the danger of “forgetting”...

In the 1970s ballad One Tin Soldier (from the movie “The Legend of Billy Jack” about a Green Beret who is part Indigenous; the film explores themes of racism and police brutality among other s*** we are still dealing with), the valley people demanded the mountain people’s treasure. The mountain people offered to share. The valley people refused, waged war, and after the slaughter uncovered only a stone carved with the words: “Peace on Earth.”

It was a warning then, now it is a mirror.

The New Valley

Today’s valleys are large corporations racing to plant AI datacenters in rural and underserved communities. The “treasure” they seek certainly is “peace”; it’s cheap land, pliable tax incentives, abundant water in the race to build the “ultimate” AI.

Promises of prosperity flow easily, but too often communities are left with little more than:

• a brief construction boom,

• depleted resources, and

• a hulking facility that hums at the edge of town while opportunity passes them by.

This is conquest disguised as progress.

The Mountain’s Lesson

The mountain people in the song offered to share. That’s the model we need today.

Imagine if every datacenter deal came with:

• community-owned renewable energy projects,

• AI literacy and workforce pipelines for local schools and colleges,

• small business procurement commitments that anchor wealth locally.

That’s what we at A Bigger Table call table-building—turning infrastructure into shared prosperity instead of extraction.

What’ Under the Stone

If corporations continue the valley’s path, they will discover the same bitter truth: the treasure is hollow. In the long run, social license and cooperation to operate responsibly matters more than teraflops of computing “power”.

The real stone of our time could just as easily read: “Without trust, there IS no progress.”

The Bigger Table Path

AI can become another chapter in the story of conquest—or it can be the catalyst for shared mobility. The choice is clear:

• Valleys of extraction that strip communities for short-term gain, or

• Mountains of reciprocity where peace, trust, and opportunity are the treasure.

At A Bigger Table, we believe the real wealth of this AI era isn’t data or compute—it’s whether we expand who gets a seat at the table.

But what if the story isn’t just subtraction? What if AI can actually add value to our lives…not as a replacement for human intelligence, but as a companion that helps us reclaim time, make better decisions, and stretch our creativity?

The truth is, we’ve been here before. Calculators didn’t end math. Spreadsheets didn’t end accounting. Search engines didn’t end libraries. They changed how we use our time and attention. The same choice stands with AI.

Time as a Gift

Most of us spend far too much of our lives buried in administrative clutter: emails, schedules, errands, repetitive writing.

AI can’t (and shouldn’t) live your life for you—but it can take the low-value tasks off your plate so you have more space for the things that matter.

• Email triage: Gmail’s Help Me Write or apps like Superhuman summarize long threads and draft responses. Instead of drowning in 100 unread messages, you get the gist in minutes.

• Scheduling made simple: Calendar tools like Reclaim or Motion automatically protect focus time, reschedule meetings, and remind you of commitments.

A 2023 MIT Sloan study found that workers using generative AI for routine writing tasks finished their work 37% faster without losing quality.

We are not just talking about efficiency, this is about buying back your attention for higher-value work…or simply more life.

Everyday Learning

Imagine if every person had access to a patient, 24-hour tutor. That’s essentially what AI can be.

• Students can use tools like Khan Academy’s Khanmigo to ask questions in plain English and get personalized explanations of complex topics.

• Professionals can role-play difficult conversations, summarize industry reports, or break down new skills into digestible steps using ChatGPT.

The World Economic Forum predicts that 44% of workers’ core skills will change in the next five years.

AI isn’t just for companies use to streamline certain tasks, but a way for individuals to learn continuously, at their own pace.

Creativity for the Rest of Us

For centuries, creativity was locked behind training, tools, or access. AI cracks that open.

• Writers can brainstorm titles, overcome writer’s block, or reframe drafts.

• Artists and entrepreneurs use MidJourney (I know Midjourney has certainly had it’s challenges as well) or Canva’s AI features to design logos, flyers, or product mockups in minutes.

• Musicians and podcasters lean on tools like AIVA or Descript to generate background music or clean up audio without expensive software.

A teacher in Selma or a teenager in Detroit can now test ideas visually or musically without waiting for permission or funding.

Health and Well-Being

AI can support wellness as well.

• Fitness apps like Fitbit and Whoop analyze your sleep cycles and recommend recovery or exercise routines.

• Mental health support apps such as Woebot or Wysa provide conversational check-ins that help reduce stress and anxiety.

• Nutrition planning apps like Zoe or MyFitnessPal generate meal plans tailored to your health goals.

The American Psychological Association found that AI-powered chat support reduced reported stress by up to 32% compared with unassisted journaling.

A Word of Caution

None of this is magic. AI doesn’t know you; simply data. It reflects brilliance and bias alike. Using it responsibly means asking good questions:

• Where does this system pull its knowledge from?

• Whose voices or experiences are missing?

• Does this help me live more fully, or am I outsourcing my own judgment?

Used carelessly, AI can amplify misinformation, automate bias, and leave us passive.
Used wisely, it can make us more human—not less—by shifting our energy back toward relationships, curiosity, and purpose.

One last thing…

AI is not the enemy of ordinary life. It’s a mirror and a multiplier.

The choice is ours: do we treat it as just another gadget, or as a way to reclaim time, unlock creativity, and learn in ways our grandparents could only imagine?

The next article in this series will explore how we navigate AI’s missing roots—its lack of memory, morality, or lineage—and what that means for the societies we’re building.

Because intelligence without memory can be powerful. But it can also be dangerous.

We will see, hopefully, that AI isn’t arriving in a vacuum. The world is already full of intelligence.

Just not the human kind.

There’s the moral arc we call divine. 

There’s the ecosystem logic built into nature. 

There’s the messy, creative, destructive thing we call the human mind.

And now there’s this…other thing…we call “artificial intelligence”.

First off, we need to stop asking if AI is smart. It is. The better question is what kind of intelligence it is and what kind of intelligence it’s displacing, if any at all.

I got this quote below from a podcast I listened to recently hosted by John Hope Bryant and his two guests, Van Jones and Sheldon Gilbert. 

Van said this:“AI is conceptualized as the "fourth intelligence on the planet," following divine intelligence, biological non-human intelligence (nature), and biological human intelligence. The interaction between these intelligences will shape the rest of the century"

So I felt like I really needed to turn this into a series…so here we go.

#1 Divine Intelligence

This is not theological or a belief system. This is the part of us that wonders what’s right. What’s just. What’s worth protecting even when there’s nothing to gain.

Divine intelligence speaks in intuition and long memory. It whispers through elders, through stories, through dreams.

We don’t “code” this kind of intelligence; we carry it.

#2 Nature’s Intelligence

Before algorithms, there were root systems. Currents. Animal migrations. Feedback loops that kept forests alive without commands or “prompts”.

Nature doesn’t overthink. It adjusts and it remembers without language (or at least not one people understand).

You can call it decentralized or relational; just don’t call it primitive.

#3 Human Intelligence

We build. We destroy. We tell stories. We believe lies. We hold two conflicting ideas in our heads and still get through the day (some of us anyway).

Human intelligence doesn’t follow clean patterns. It’s not optimized. It can’t be version-controlled.

But it learns through joy, shame, loss, and invention. It dreams of justice while inventing weapons.

#4 Artificial Intelligence

It’s not sentient nor wise. 

It IS powerful. It reads, predicts, edits, generates. It scales.

It has no body. No lineage. No place to return to when it’s wrong.

And yet, it’s shaping decisions about who gets hired, who gets watched, who gets left out.

AI is not replacing our intelligence, but it is confronting it.

If we treat AI like just another product, it will become just another tool of power. If we see it as the Fourth Intelligence, we might begin to ask better questions.

Where does this system pull its knowledge from? What stories taught it how to “act”? Who will it forget?

The next post in this series looks at what happens when we build intelligence without memory.

No moral compass.

No shame.

No roots.

It’s already happening. Let’s not pretend we don’t see it.

While all five men abused their positions, the nature of their “enterprises” and the mechanics of their protection varied dramatically. Let’s look at the different models of rot.

Jeffrey Epstein: The Sovereign Predator

Jeffrey Epstein’s operation was a sophisticated, international sex-trafficking ring built like a ghastly multi-level marketing scheme. Federal indictments describe a system where Epstein recruited and abused minors at his various residences. The business model was chillingly efficient: victims were paid for "massages" that turned sexual, and then incentivized with cash bonuses to recruit new girls, ensuring a "steady supply of new victims." This pyramid scheme of abuse was facilitated by a network of employees and associates, including his partner Ghislaine Maxwell.

The real architecture of his impunity was the infamous 2008 non-prosecution agreement (NPA). Negotiated in secret with then-U.S. Attorney Alexander Acosta’s office, the NPA allowed Epstein to sidestep a 53-page federal indictment that could have meant life in prison. Instead, he served less than 13 months in a county jail, with work release privileges. The deal didn’t just protect Epstein; it granted federal immunity to "any potential co-conspirators," effectively shielding his entire network. Justice for Epstein wasn't just delayed; it was contractually outsourced to oblivion, at least until investigative journalism dragged it back into the light. His 2019 death by suicide in a federal jail cell meant his victims would never get their day in court, leaving a vacuum of unanswered questions.

R. Kelly: The Cult of the "Pied Piper"

In contrast to Epstein’s transactional network, R. Kelly ran a cult of personality built on absolute control. As the self-proclaimed "Pied Piper of R&B," Kelly’s enterprise was based on psychological and physical domination. Trial evidence revealed a totalitarian system where victims, many of them minors, were forced to call him "Daddy," were not allowed to eat or use the bathroom without his permission, and were subjected to physical assault and starvation.

His enablers weren't a diffuse network of recruiters but a fiercely loyal inner circle. Federal indictments named associates like his business manager, Derrel McDavid, who was accused of orchestrating payments to silence witnesses and instructing a victim's father to lie to a grand jury. While Epstein built a market of abuse, Kelly built a court—an insular prison where his word was law. After decades of allegations and a 2008 acquittal, Kelly was finally convicted in two separate federal trials for racketeering, sex trafficking, and producing child pornography, receiving a 30-year prison sentence.

Harvey Weinstein: The Casting Couch, Corporatized

For decades, Harvey Weinstein’s predatory behavior was an “open secret” in Hollywood, a system built on the infamous “casting couch.” Criminal and civil case filings detail a consistent pattern: Weinstein would lure aspiring actresses to hotel rooms under the pretext of discussing their careers, then demand sex in exchange for professional advancement.

His system was enabled by a network of "employees, associates and agents who set up these meetings, as well as lawyers and publicists who suppressed complaints with payments and threats." The Weinstein Company (TWC) and Miramax were accused in a class-action lawsuit of colluding to "perpetuate and conceal Weinstein's organized pattern of predatory behavior," effectively turning his abuse into a corporate-sponsored operation.

The most damning evidence was his 2015 employment contract, which stipulated escalating financial penalties for each instance of "misconduct." As long as he paid the penalty, the contract stated the misconduct was "cured" from the board's perspective. Sexual assault became a manageable business expense. Though his 2020 conviction in New York was overturned on a technicality, he remains imprisoned on a separate California conviction.

Sean Combs: The "Combs Enterprise"

The allegations against Sean "Diddy" Combs followed a similar pattern of leveraging industry power, but prosecutors took a different approach from the start. A 2024 federal indictment accused Combs of operating the "Combs Enterprise," a criminal organization that allegedly used his business empire to "abuse, threaten, and coerce women and others." The indictment detailed what Combs allegedly called "Freak Offs"—elaborate, filmed sex performances where victims were allegedly drugged and coerced into sex acts.

The indictment alleged that his own employees, from security staff to high-ranking supervisors, were part of the conspiracy, arranging travel, supplying drugs, and cleaning up afterward. However, in July 2025, a jury acquitted Combs of the most serious charges, including racketeering and sex trafficking, convicting him only on lesser counts of transportation for prostitution. The split verdict suggests that while jurors believed the abuse occurred, they weren't convinced it met the high legal bar of a coordinated criminal "enterprise" under the RICO statute.

Rupert Murdoch: The Willful Blindness of Power

Rupert Murdoch’s abuse of power wasn’t primarily personal predation but the systemic corruption of his institutions for profit and influence. The phone-hacking scandal at his News of the World newspaper revealed a "widespread and organised undercover market of personal information," built on illegally hacking the phones of everyone from celebrities to the family of a murdered schoolgirl. During the subsequent Leveson Inquiry, Murdoch admitted to a "cover-up" within his company. A British parliamentary committee concluded that Murdoch "exhibited wilful blindness to what was going on in his companies" and was "not a fit person to exercise the stewardship of a major international company."

Years later, a different scandal erupted at Fox News, this time involving a deeply ingrained culture of sexual harassment spearheaded by CEO Roger Ailes and star Bill O'Reilly. The consequences for Murdoch were not criminal but financial and structural. A shareholder lawsuit resulted in a $90 million settlement and the creation of the "Fox News Workplace Professionalism and Inclusion Council" to reform the toxic culture. Murdoch’s case demonstrates that impunity can also manifest as institutional corruption, where a leader is culpable for the rot within their organization while maintaining plausible deniability.

The Bigger Picture

The walls that protected these men were not breached by law enforcement acting alone. In nearly every case, the catalyst was investigative journalism that refused to accept the official story. The work of reporters like Jodi Kantor, Megan Twohey, Ronan Farrow, and Julie K. Brown ignited the #MeToo movement, creating a cultural tidal wave that gave prosecutors the political will to act.

Yet, it would be a mistake to declare this the end of elite impunity. The system is resilient. Weinstein's overturned conviction in New York is a reminder that procedural law can trump moral outrage. Combs's acquittal on the most serious charges shows the difficulty of fitting complex abuse into rigid criminal statutes. Epstein's death denied his victims their day in court, and Murdoch’s ability to absorb massive scandals suggests that for some, accountability is just a cost of doing business.

The walls around some of these men came down. But the blueprints for the architecture of impunity remain. The question is not whether we have torn down the old fortresses, but whether the powerful are already designing new ones, with higher walls and more sophisticated legal traps. Have we entered an era of accountability, or just a brief, cathartic interlude?

HUD just got gutted. The FY 2026 budget request includes a $33.6 billion drop in housing and community development programs.

Let’s look at what got chopped and who’s expected to survive the wreckage.

Section 8 and Public Housing: “Able-Bodied? You’re On Your Own.”

First, nearly $27 billion is stripped from rental assistance. That includes Housing Choice Vouchers (Section 8), project-based rental subsidies, and public housing operating funds. The plan? Block-grant it to states with a two-year cap for able-bodied adults. No rent support after that. If you’re poor and not elderly or disabled, hope you can make it in twenty-four months…or not.

HUD says states can “design their own rental programs.” What that really means: no federal floor, no guardrails, and no rights. A tenant in Alabama might get a voucher. A tenant in New York might get a waitlist. A tenant in Mississippi? Good luck.

The CDBG Is Dead.

The Community Development Block Grant program is zeroed out. HUD says it’s wasteful. They cite theater upgrades in Greenwich and a skateboard park as examples. But the real targets are housing rehab programs, youth centers, and neighborhood clinics that have quietly propped up struggling cities for decades.

Gone.

HOME Program: Gone.

Another $1.25 billion disappears with the elimination of the HOME program. This was the country’s largest flexible funding source for affordable housing construction and rehab. Now, developers will have to rely on state or local dollars that don’t exist. If you’re a first-time homebuyer or trying to fix a leaky roof in a disinvested neighborhood, you’re out of luck.

Tribal Housing: We’ll Get Back to You.

Native Hawaiian Housing? Cut. Competitive grants for tribal housing infrastructure? Gone. All in the name of “streamlining.” Never mind the actual conditions on reservations or in rural Alaska.

Housing for People Living with HIV/AIDS: Consolidated (read: Cut).

The HOPWA program is folded into a single pot with the Continuum of Care. The result is a capped grant focused on short-term homelessness prevention. No dedicated pipeline anymore for those living with HIV/AIDS.

Fair Housing: You’ll Still Be Discriminated Against, Just Quieter

Fair housing enforcement takes a $60 million hit. Translation: HUD will continue to fund the state agencies that process complaints but stops funding the advocacy groups that find the problems in the first place.

Investigations stay. Investigators go. Got it.

The Bigger Picture

HUD programs don’t just build units. They stabilize communities. They make sure seniors don’t freeze, children don’t sleep in cars, and veterans don’t spiral into chronic homelessness.

When you cut these programs, people don’t “find other options.” They fall off the map.

And let’s not pretend this is about fraud or efficiency. The same budget that slashes HUD also proposes $105 million to “jumpstart America’s domestic shipbuilding supply chain.” Fine. But don’t tell me that theater renovations in Connecticut are the real fiscal threat.

A Bigger Table View: Budget by Ideology, Not Evidence

As founder of A Bigger Table, I see the pattern. Programs that serve poor people—especially renters, immigrants, LGBTQ+ youth, and anyone needing more than two years of help—get chopped. Programs that can be weaponized into a bootstrap narrative get repackaged as “state empowerment.” Meanwhile, military and border spending soars.

The housing budget didn’t just shrink. It mutated. From federal safety net to state-run gatekeeping. From guaranteed access to limited offers. From rights to rewards.

We can build something better.

Sources:

OMB FY 2026 Discretionary Budget Request (PDF)

U.S. Congress – FY 2026 Budget Tables

National Low Income Housing Coalition – “Out of Reach 2024”

Center on Budget and Policy Priorities – “Federal Rental Assistance Facts”

National AIDS Housing Coalition – HOPWA Factsheet

National Fair Housing Alliance – 2024 Fair Housing Trends Report

© Scott McGregor, A Bigger Table

H.R.1 – the “One Big Beautiful Bill Act” – contains a sweeping provision allocating $50 billion over 10 years to support rural health centers. Touted as a landmark investment in America’s overlooked heartlands, this appropriation is part of the same legislation that ties Medicaid coverage to punitive work requirements and slashes safety-net access for millions. The question isn’t whether rural areas need support; they do. The question is: support for what, and on whose terms?

According to the bill’s language §2041-§2046, this funding will be distributed through grants to Federally Qualified Health Centers (FQHCs), rural clinics, and community-based care networks “demonstrating capacity to improve outcomes and reduce dependency on federal insurance programs.” The language is very deliberate; the goal is not care, but cost containment. Recipients must show “progress toward reducing Medicaid caseloads” by shifting toward “preventive and faith-based models of community health.”

On the surface, that might seem innovative, you know, decentralizing care, leaning on trusted messengers, moving upstream. But read between the lines: the $50B is conditioned on shrinking the footprint of public insurance. In other words, this is not an investment in health equity. It’s a bribe to local providers to do Washington’s dirty work: keep people healthy enough to avoid enrolling in Medicaid or at least find a workaround.

An Unequal Burden for Rural Clinics

Let’s be clear. Rural America is hurting. More than 60 million Americans live in rural areas, and over 13 million depend on Medicaid. Clinics serving these regions often operate on razor-thin margins, are short-staffed, and face growing demand as hospitals close. According to the Chartis Center for Rural Health, over 140 rural hospitals have shuttered since 2010, with Black and Indigenous counties bearing the brunt.

The One Big Beautiful Bill acknowledges this pain, and then turns it into an incentive structure built around scarcity. Only providers who can meet federal “efficiency metrics” or “faith-based community engagement goals” (whatever those are) will be eligible. This rewards the best-resourced clinics while starving others. Small clinics with no grant-writing teams or church affiliations get left behind.

Worse, the bill bars any of these funds from being used to help Medicaid recipients comply with the newly enacted work requirement. That means no dollars for transportation, job placement, or application support and these are the very services rural residents need most to remain eligible for coverage. One hand offers funding and the other pushes people off the rolls. So much for “compassionate conservatism” (wait…I think that was the other guy).

Faith-Based Partnerships: New Hope, or Privatized Welfare?

A centerpiece of the bill’s rural health funding is a new provision encouraging “partnerships with community-anchored religious institutions.” Language in [§2043(c)] creates a new class of “Designated Faith-Based Health Intermediaries” — eligible to receive federal funding if they provide health navigation, transportation to appointments, mental health counseling, or “spiritual wellness supports” that reduce ER visits (what could possibly go wrong here?)

As the founder of A Bigger Table, I support faith-led healing spaces, but only when they center dignity and expand access, not act as a workaround for hollowed-out public programs. But H.R.1 doesn’t just invite the church into the clinic. It outsources the clinic to the church. There is no mandate that these faith-based intermediaries provide care without discrimination. No guardrails to prevent coercion. And no funding for secular alternatives in communities that don’t have a robust faith infrastructure. I am not sure how you will take this, but just like religion has no place in taxpayer-supported education, it is just as unwelcome in scenarios where someone’s life is literally on the line.

The Hidden Costs: Insurance, Fuel, Labor, and Paperwork

Let’s say a rural county wants to stand up a mobile health outreach service using unused church vans to reach Medicaid patients. Here’s what H.R.1 won’t cover: fuel, insurance, driver wages, or vehicle maintenance. The bill offers zero support for transportation infrastructure despite transportation being one of the top three barriers to rural healthcare, according to the National Rural Health Association.

Churches across rural North Carolina alone collectively own over 2,000 buses, vans, or multi-passenger vehicles. These re-purposed assets (which sit unused 80% of the time) could revolutionize last-mile health access. But without operational support, those wheels stay parked. If a county wanted to activate 100 of those buses to run 3 days a week, pay 100 part-time drivers $25/hour, and cover fuel, insurance, and maintenance, the price tag exceeds $7 million per year; and not a dime of the $50B would be allowed to support it under the law as written.

A Bigger Table View: Health Equity Demands More Than Metrics

This is the heart of the matter: The $50B rural investment reads more like a bandaid than a commitment. Policymakers know the Medicaid work requirements will cause coverage losses. They are hoping rural clinics, as well as rural faith communities can fill the void, on the cheap. But no amount of rural grit can replace insurance, infrastructure, or a functioning safety net.

What’s needed is not just dollars, but freedom to spend those dollars on what communities know they need like local care navigators, mobile units, safe transit, digital access, and language interpretation. Metrics should follow impact, not precede it. H.R.1 gets it backward.

Conclusion: Don’t Mistake the Apple for the Orchard

$50 billion is a big number. But if it’s money with strings designed to pull people off Medicaid rather than into care, then it is not a public health investment. It’s a Trojan horse. It gives political cover to the architects of H.R.1, while leaving rural communities holding the bag.

A Bigger Table believes that every rural community deserves not just access, but agency. We stand with health centers trying to keep the doors open, and with the congregations trying to do more with less. But let’s be honest: rural health doesn’t need “community engagement metrics.” It needs universal coverage, real funding for transportation and job support, and respect for what local leaders already know how to do.

Let’s build that table.

Sources:

• U.S. Congress, H.R.1 – One Big Beautiful Bill Act, §2041–2046
  
  

• Chartis Center for Rural Health – “Rural Health Safety Net Under Pressure” (2025)
  
  

• National Rural Health Association – “Top Barriers to Rural Healthcare” (2024)
  
  

• Pew Research Center – “Faith-Based Institutions in Rural America” (2023)
  
  

• North Carolina Council of Churches – Asset Map of Church Vehicles (2022)
  
  

• Health Affairs – “Work Requirements and Health Outcomes” (2024)
  
  

© Scott McGregor, A Bigger Table.

H.R.1 – the “One Big Beautiful Bill Act” of 2025 – introduced a federal mandate for Medicaid “community engagement” (work) requirements. In essence, nonpregnant, nondisabled adults ages 19–64 in the Affordable Care Act (ACA) Medicaid expansion group must document at least 80 hours per month of work or qualifying activities (such as employment, job training, community service, or half-time education) to maintain their health coverage. States are required to verify compliance at application and renewal (and can check more frequently). Enrollees who fail to meet the ~20 hours per week requirement – or navigate the reporting paperwork – can be suspended or disenrolled from Medicaid after a grace period if they do not remedy the shortfall within 30 days of notice. Numerous categories of vulnerable individuals are exempt, including pregnant women, adults with disabilities or serious health conditions, caregivers of young children or disabled family members, American Indians/Alaska Natives, and those in substance abuse treatment or recently incarcerated. However, the policy targets “able-bodied” low-income adults – predominantly those covered by the ACA’s Medicaid expansion – and denies states any ability to waive these rules under Medicaid waivers. States must implement the requirements by 2027 (with a possible extension to 2028 if they demonstrate good-faith implementation efforts).

Supporters of the work requirement claim it will encourage employment and self-sufficiency among Medicaid enrollees. Opponents argue, however, that it functions mainly as a barrier to coverage – adding cumbersome reporting rules that will strip health insurance from vulnerable people who remain eligible but cannot surmount new bureaucratic hurdles. These critics contend that the true intent is to cut Medicaid spending (by shrinking enrollment), freeing up federal dollars to offset the cost of major tax cuts included elsewhere in H.R.1. In the sections below, we examine how the Medicaid work requirements could impact the nation’s poorest states, evaluate the evidence on coverage losses and outcomes, and consider the policy’s role in the broader budget trade-offs between safety-net programs and tax benefits for the wealthy.

Disproportionate Impact on High-Poverty States

The states with the highest poverty rates in the U.S. are largely in the South, and they are poised to be most affected by Medicaid work requirements. These include New Mexico (18.2% poverty rate), Mississippi (17.8%), Louisiana (16.9%), Arkansas (15.9%), Kentucky (15.8%), West Virginia (~16%), Alabama (~15%), and Oklahoma (~15%), among others. In such high-poverty states, a significant share of the population relies on Medicaid for health coverage. Many of these states embraced the ACA’s Medicaid expansion precisely because large low-income adult populations had no other access to care – for example, Louisiana expanded Medicaid in 2016, and over half a million Louisianans gained coverage, contributing to its drop in uninsured rate. West Virginia and Kentucky – each with around 15–16% of residents in poverty – also expanded Medicaid early, and roughly 1 in 3 West Virginians is now covered by Medicaid (around 180,000 through expansion).

Ironically, some of the poorest states have not expanded Medicaid (e.g. Mississippi and Alabama), leaving tens of thousands of their poorest adults uninsured. For these states, the new federal work requirement mandate may serve as a continued deterrent to expansion: state leaders could argue that without the administrative capacity to enforce work rules, they cannot extend coverage. Georgia (poverty ~14%) provides a cautionary example – it declined full Medicaid expansion and instead launched a limited program requiring enrollees to work 80 hours per month. Early reports indicate Georgia’s approach has struggled to enroll people due to its complexity. Thus, in states with entrenched poverty, work requirements risk creating an added barrier even to accessing Medicaid in the first place.

For high-poverty states that have expanded Medicaid (such as Arkansas, Kentucky, West Virginia, Oklahoma, New Mexico, Louisiana), the new rules threaten to reverse much of the coverage gains of the last decade. These states typically have large rural populations and limited job opportunities. Seasonal and low-wage work is common, which makes it difficult for individuals to reliably meet a strict 80-hours-per-month condition. Many working Medicaid enrollees have unstable schedules – e.g. a retail or service worker whose hours fluctuate, or a gig worker between assignments. In a high-poverty county with few employers, someone might work 60 hours one month and only 20 the next through no fault of their own. Under the policy, that person could be kicked off Medicaid for failing to hit 80 hours in the lean month, even if they resume work thereafter.

Crucially, these states also tend to have lower rates of broadband access and educational attainment, which can make the reporting process itself a hurdle. When Arkansas piloted a Medicaid work requirement in 2018, many recipients did not understand the online reporting system or failed to navigate it in time; over 18,000 Arkansans – in a state with a 15.9% poverty rate – lost Medicaid coverage within months as a result. Notably, most of those dropped were already meeting the work requirement or qualified for an exemption, yet they were disenrolled due to paperwork and procedural issues. This Arkansas outcome foreshadows what could happen on a larger scale in other high-poverty states: mass coverage losses hitting vulnerable communities, even when people are technically eligible.

Coverage Losses and Health Consequences

Evidence from past experiments and nonpartisan analysis strongly indicates that Medicaid work requirements would cause substantial coverage losses without significant employment gains. The Congressional Budget Office (CBO) projected that the work requirements in H.R.1 would result in about 5.2 million fewer people enrolled in Medicaid by 2034, as individuals churn off for non-compliance. Because most who lose Medicaid will have no affordable alternative (the bill pointedly bars them from receiving ACA marketplace subsidies after losing Medicaid for not meeting work requirements), CBO estimated the net increase in the uninsured population would be 4.8 million in a decade. The Center on Budget and Policy Priorities (CBPP) similarly estimated that 6.9 million expansion enrollees across 40 states would lose coverage by 2034 under these rules. In other words, roughly 3 in 4 adults subject to the requirement could end up uninsured – CBPP assumed about 72% of non-exempt enrollees would lose coverage, extrapolating from Arkansas’ real-world experience.

Critically, these coverage losses are not because millions of people will suddenly land well-paying jobs with health benefits. In fact, most Medicaid expansion adults are already working or face significant barriers to work (such as illness or caregiving responsibilities), according to Kaiser Family Foundation research. The Arkansas experiment showed no increase in employment among those subject to the requirement – people dropped from Medicaid, but did not find new jobs as a result. Similarly, there is no evidence that punitive coverage terminations improve long-term earnings or job prospects. Instead, the primary “accomplishment” of work requirements is administrative: reducing Medicaid enrollment (and expenditures) by erecting barriers. As the American Progress analysis put it, this policy would lead to coverage losses “as an end in itself,” translating to “tens of thousands of avoidable deaths each year” due to people losing access to care.

The health consequences of being uninsured are well-documented. Uninsured adults often delay or forgo treatments, skip medications, and rely on emergency rooms for crises. One Harvard study found that for every 239–316 adults who gain insurance, one life is saved per year. By inversion, taking coverage away from millions will inevitably result in worse health outcomes and increased mortality. The avoidable deaths will mount especially in poor communities: for example, CAP projected over 200 additional deaths per year in a single Nevada congressional district and similar tolls elsewhere if the work requirements take effect. Beyond mortality, losing Medicaid also means more medical debt and financial insecurity for low-income families – a single hospitalization without coverage can be ruinous. Community healthcare systems will feel the strain too. Hospitals in high-poverty areas (already struggling with uncompensated care) may see higher uncompensated care loads and potential cuts to services or closures, exacerbating health disparities.

It is also important to note the indirect economic damage that could result. Medicaid is not just a safety-net for individuals; it is also a major source of federal funding flowing into state economies. When millions lose Medicaid, states forfeit billions in federal dollars that would have paid for their care. That can lead to job losses in the healthcare sector, particularly in rural areas where Medicaid is a lifeline keeping clinics and hospitals afloat. One analysis warned that a national Medicaid work requirement could lead to large-scale job losses and harm state economies – precisely the opposite of “encouraging work”. Thus, the policy may undercut local employment (in healthcare) while doing little to boost the employment rate of Medicaid enrollees themselves. It creates a vicious cycle in many poor regions: forcing people off insurance, worsening health outcomes, and making it harder for them to work or seek work due to untreated illnesses, all while local healthcare infrastructure erodes.

Budget Trade-Offs: Medicaid Cuts vs. Tax Cuts for the Wealthy

Why implement a policy with such evidently harmful effects on health coverage? The answer becomes clearer when looking at the broader context of H.R.1. This sweeping law was a budget reconciliation package that combined steep reductions to safety-net spending with massive tax benefits skewed toward high earners. In fact, H.R.1 permanently extended the 2017 tax cuts, including lower individual income tax rates and generous business tax provisions, which predominantly benefit wealthy individuals and corporations. These tax policies carry an enormous price tag – roughly $4.5 trillion over ten years, according to the Leadership Conference on Civil Rights. To offset that cost and satisfy budget rules, lawmakers sought savings from programs like Medicaid.

The Medicaid work requirements must be understood in this light: they were projected to slash federal Medicaid spending by $344 billion over 2025–2034, representing the single largest Medicaid cut in the bill. (Overall, H.R.1 included about $793 billion in Medicaid cuts when counting other provisions like enrollment verification hurdles and reduced federal funding in certain areas.) In other words, almost half of the Medicaid cuts were to come from disenrolling people who don’t meet the work rule. Those “savings” were not earmarked to expand coverage elsewhere or invest in job training; rather, they were part of the financing for H.R.1’s extensive tax breaks. As a House Democrats’ report bluntly described it, the bill “steals from the poor to give to the rich,” worsening inequality by trading away low-income health coverage to fund tax windfalls for the wealthy. The Leadership Conference, a coalition of civil rights groups, condemned this trade-off in moral terms: “Slashing Medicaid to finance $4.5 trillion in tax breaks for the ultra-wealthy and large corporations is not only fiscally irresponsible, it is morally indefensible.”

From a public finance perspective, the work requirement is effectively a benefit cut on society’s poorest that frees up money for tax cuts benefiting the richest. The top 1% of earners and large corporations stand to gain the most from the extended 2017 tax provisions, while low-income Americans stand to lose health coverage and access to food assistance (H.R.1 also tightened SNAP food stamp rules). This regressive redistribution has led opponents to argue that “work requirements” are less about encouraging work and more about shrinking government aid so that high-income households can receive tax largesse. Notably, polls show the public does not favor cutting Medicaid or SNAP – most Americans prefer funding for these programs be maintained or increased, even as they support the idea of work in principle. The framing of “able-bodied adults must work” can sound reasonable, but the practical result – millions losing coverage – is deeply unpopular once understood. H.R.1 bundled these disparate priorities (safety-net cuts and tax breaks) into one package, making the trade-off explicit.

Conclusion

In summary, the Medicaid work requirements enacted in H.R.1 will likely do far more harm than good – especially in America’s poorest states. The policy predicates access to healthcare on meeting rigid work standards, but in high-poverty regions, stable jobs can be scarce and many Medicaid enrollees face personal barriers (health issues, caregiving, lack of transportation) that make consistent work or reporting difficult. The evidence from prior implementations suggests that the primary outcome will be massive loss of health coverage for low-income people, rather than any meaningful increase in employment. Such coverage losses will have detrimental effects on individual and public health, from higher mortality rates to overburdened hospitals, ultimately impeding the very goal of self-sufficiency by undermining people’s health and financial stability.

It is telling that these measures were advanced not in isolation but alongside trillions in tax cuts for the wealthy. The budget savings from dropping people off Medicaid are essentially being used to subsidize tax reductions for top earners, a dynamic that raises serious questions of equity and priorities. In high-poverty states like Mississippi, Louisiana, West Virginia and others, residents will feel the squeeze as healthcare access diminishes – all to bankroll tax advantages for those in the highest tax brackets. From the perspective of A Bigger Table – which advocates for inclusive prosperity and a strong safety net – this policy is a step in the wrong direction. Healthcare should be a right, not a reward for clocking a set number of hours in a low-wage job. While encouraging workforce participation is a worthy goal, punitive Medicaid work requirements are a blunt instrument that predominantly punish the poor rather than empower them.

In the end, the claims by opponents of H.R.1 appear well-founded: the Medicaid work requirement will indeed unfairly remove people from life-saving coverage to their detriment, primarily to achieve budgetary savings that offset tax giveaways to the affluent. As this policy unfolds, it will be crucial to monitor its human impact. If the projections hold true, we can expect to see rising uninsured rates concentrated in our poorest communities – a development that should spur a re-evaluation of whether such “savings” are worth the very real costs in American lives and livelihoods.

Sources:

• U.S. Congress, House. H.R.1 – One Big Beautiful Bill Act (Public Law 119-21, 2025) – Medicaid work requirement provisions.

• Kaiser Family Foundation – Analysis of Medicaid Work Requirement Provisions (June 2025).

• Center on Budget and Policy Priorities – State-by-state Estimates of Coverage Losses Under Medicaid Work Requirements (April 2025).

• Center for American Progress – “House Republicans’ Medicaid Cuts…” (May 2025).

• Leadership Conference on Civil & Human Rights – Letter Opposing H.R.1 (July 2025).

• Crisis Assistance Ministry (Charlotte) – “What is H.R.1 and Why Does It Matter…” (June 2025).

• Voronoi/Visual Capitalist – Mapped: Poverty Rates by U.S. State (2024).

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