That type of copying is pretty normal, and they teach it in school. It's how you learn (and how you become depressed). But in the age of generative AI, there are many new kinds of copying. For instance, Wired reported last week on a tool offered by Grammarly, which briefly offered users the opportunity to put their writing through something called "Expert Review."
What could be more important for the future of any society than the education of its children? Innovative theories abound. Educators are constantly presenting groundbreaking new paradigms for improving a child's academic achievement. In the past quarter century or so, these have included: * Expanding educational opportunities for preschoolers * Selecting the best teachers for a child * Making instruction more relevant * Establishing or strengthening character education * Providing a multidisciplinary education * Defining the boundaries for student-teacher relationships * Approaching literacy from a whole language perspective * Fostering critical thinking skills
It started with a book launch in 2021. I'd been living in London as a social media journalist when I asked my then-publication's culture editor to send me to one of these exclusive-sounding events, as 1) I'd never been and 2) I just really wanted to be a person who "has a book launch to go to." Thankfully, there was one that exact day-and he put my name on the list for the release of Mary Beard's Emperor of Rome. Huzzah.
The Theory of Communicative Action, his 1980s magnum opus, was not (to put it mildly) as accessible as some of his newspaper opinion pieces. But its central idea—that our nature as linguistic beings puts reason and the search for consensus at the core of who we are—remains an antidote both to intellectual relativism and Trumpian realism, which elevates national or individual self-interest above all other sources of human motivation.
You know that sinking feeling when you realize you've been using a phrase that makes you sound less intelligent than you actually are? I had one of those moments a few years back during a pitch meeting for my startup. I was presenting to potential investors, and I kept saying "I think" before every point I made. "I think our user acquisition strategy will work."
The term "conspiracy theory" calls to mind a variety of dubious claims and controversies, like rumors about Area 51, claims that the Earth is flat, and the movement known as QAnon. At first blush, these phenomena would seem to have little in common with bogus word origins. But there are a variety of false etymologies that spread virally and refuse to go away, in much the same way that stories about chemtrails, black helicopters, and UFOs refuse to die.
After interviewing over 200 people for various articles, I've become hypersensitive to the subtle ways trust builds or breaks in conversation. And here's what I've discovered: we all use phrases that quietly erode trust, often multiple times a day, completely unaware of the damage we're doing to our relationships and credibility. The fascinating part? These aren't obvious lies or manipulative statements. They're everyday phrases that seem harmless but trigger our brain's ancient alarm systems, making people instinctively pull back from us.
Many lawyers have eagerly adopted the buzzword "BLUF"-bottom line up front-as if invoking the acronym were synonymous with careful thinking. The catch is that almost no one stops to ask the important question: What exactly is meant by "bottom line"? The answer isn't obvious, and it shifts with context. In military writing, the "bottom line" is a concrete decision or action a commander must take-stated at the very start because the commander already knows the mission, the terrain and the stakes.
Ever notice how some people just draw you in? I used to think it was pure charisma, something you either had or didn't. Then I spent years interviewing over 200 people for articles, and something clicked. The most magnetic people, the ones who made me lose track of time during our conversations, all had something in common: They used certain phrases that made me feel genuinely heard and valued. It wasn't about being the loudest or most entertaining person in the room. These naturally charismatic
For the first time, speech has been decoupled from consequence. We now live alongside AI systems that converse knowledgeably and persuasively-deploying claims about the world, explanations, advice, encouragement, apologies, and promises-while bearing no vulnerability for what they say. Millions of people already rely on chatbots powered by large language models, and have integrated these synthetic interlocutors into their personal and professional lives. An LLM's words shape our beliefs, decisions, and actions, yet no speaker stands behind them.
I am using the word pragmatism in a specific sense. I am not speaking about being pragmatic as a political tactic; deciding what issues should be given priority and what battles to choose, or a willingness to compromise, or a recognition that there are limits to what can be accomplished at any time. I am writing now about pragmatism in a meaning closer to its philosophical origin in the writings of William James-that truth is not found in abstract principles or beliefs,
I've interviewed over 200 people for articles, from startup founders to burned-out middle managers, and I've discovered something fascinating: intellectual depth isn't about fancy degrees or knowing obscure facts. It shows up in how we communicate. When certain habits dominate someone's style, it reveals a concerning lack of curiosity and critical thinking that goes beyond just being annoying-it fundamentally limits their ability to engage with the world meaningfully.
The principle of intellectual charity is fundamental to constructive political conversations. This principle states that, in any discussion, we should accept the best version of an opponent's ideas, not a distorted version or a "straw man." Exaggeration and distortion of opposing opinions (always present, to some degree, in political debates) have become the standard form of political argument in contemporary America.
