David Brooks returns to the show with a stark diagnosis of American culture. Having evolved from a Democratic socialist to a neoconservative to what he now calls “the rightward edge of the leftward tendency,” Brooks argues that America’s core problems aren’t economic but sociological—rooted in the destruction of our “secure base” of family, community, and moral order that once gave people existential security.
Tyler and David cover why young people are simultaneously the most rejected and most productive generation, smartphones and sex, the persuasiveness of AI vs novels, the loss of audacity, what made William F. Buckley and Milton Friedman great mentors, why academics should embrace the epistemology of the interview, the evolving status of neoconservatism, what Trump gets right, whether only war or mass movements can revive the American psyche, what will end the fertility crisis, the subject of his book, listener questions, and much more.
Watch the full conversation
Recorded July 22nd, 2025.
Read the full transcript
Thanks to an anonymous listener for sponsoring this transcript.
[applause]
TYLER COWEN: Hello, David. Thank you for doing this. Thank you all for coming.
I’d like to get your sense of where the world is today, conceptually speaking. Let’s start with young people today. There’s plenty of evidence that younger people today — maybe they have shorter attention spans, feel alienated, higher rates of depression. At the same time, it’s almost impossible to get into a top school. You can be valedictorian from your school in Maryland, straight As, perfect SAT scores, and maybe it’s hard to even get into a good state school. How can both of these things be true at the same time? What’s the model going on here?
DAVID BROOKS: First, one of the things I’ve learned about young people is they love it when people of our generation generalize about them. They just think that’s fantastic.
[laughter]
I guess I would say a couple things. First, the bad news and then the good news. The bad news is that young people are tremendously sad. The number of high school students who say they’re persistently hopeless and despondent is 45 percent. The number of young people who say they have no friends is up by fourfold since 2000. The number of people who say they are lonely is 36 percent.
I’ve been teaching in colleges off and on for 25 years. The good and the bad is that young people are very open about their mental health, which is good, but the bad is really in every room now. For some reason I don’t understand, America, but especially young Americans, have gotten sadder.
COWEN: But they’re more productive, right?
BROOKS: They’re more productive than we ever were. There’s a young man in the audience named David Wignall, who I met at Williams College a couple of months ago, and who made an interesting observation to me over dinner. He said, “We’re the most rejected generation.”
If you’re applying to Harvard, 96 percent of you are going to be rejected. Harvard is a rejection factory. You have to apply to 20 schools to get into one. Then you want to get into a summer internship. I’ve met some young students from Georgetown who have applied to 250 internships to get into one. Goldman Sachs internships — I forget the exact numbers, but 350,000 people apply, and 3,000 get the summer internship.
These are massive rejection rates. I’m not even talking about the people who are not swiping right to you. I’m not even talking about those who don’t like your Instagram posts. Part of the problem is the opportunity structure is so slim that everybody is applying to the same few schools and the same few internships, so the rejections are massive.
Then the young people who get out of college — and not only at elite schools, who are applying for their first job are in hell indeed. They’re sending out hundreds of resumés and nobody is ever coming back now.
I think at the top and at the bottom of the demographic curve, you’ve got a lot of misery. The good news is, go to the middle, go to Penn State, go to Southern Methodist, where you don’t have quite the competition to get into these places, but they’re still great schools. They’re plenty smart, and they’re happy. What I notice is, if you go to Arizona State, you go to a lot of the middle ring schools, good schools, but not super exclusive, the mood is just happier than at the top or the bottom of the demographic.
COWEN: That’s 80 percent of the distribution, right? So, you’re pretty bullish on the whole thing?
BROOKS: Half of young people go to college.
COWEN: But of the college comp.
BROOKS: Of the college, yes.
COWEN: Eighty percent go to state schools.
BROOKS: What is it? Four percent go to super elite schools. I think the untold story is the Southern Methodist students, where people are like, “This is great. I go to a great school, I have great friends, and I’m going to get a job.”
COWEN: Now you write for Atlantic. Atlantic told us recently, younger people are having less sex. Is it that they’re being rejected? Why can’t they solve that coordination problem?
BROOKS: [laughs]
COWEN: There are just gains from trade. It seems a lot more fun than a smartphone. What’s your model here?
BROOKS: You are such a boomer.
COWEN: [laughs] You think the smartphone is more fun?
BROOKS: Hell, yes. You didn’t go to college where I went. [laughs] This is Jean Twenge’s work, that there’s been an age compression, and so things people were doing in 9th grade, they’re now doing in 12th grade. This is all sorts of risky behavior, whether it includes sex, whether it includes fighting, whether it includes driving, and so a lot of people are delaying. I do think that’s primarily the phone, that it’s hard to ask somebody out. Believe me, if you looked like me in high school, it was a challenge. It’s super anxiety-inducing to ask somebody out.
COWEN: I asked in high school, and I was rejected every time, but it wasn’t a challenge to ask, right?
BROOKS: Now you have a phone, you don’t have to ask. One of my students said to me, “I’ve had four boyfriends in my life, and all of them ghosted me at the end.” None of the young men had been taught you need to have a breakup conversation, and you need to have the skill to break up with somebody without crushing their heart. This young woman told me, “Of course, I’m distrustful, and of course, I’m hesitant to be in a relationship because I’ve been burned every time.” I think there’s just a lot more anxiety about that.
Second, there’s a values problem. Here, I will criticize the younger generation. The thing I learned most from in high school and college was my romantic relationships, they were more meaningful to me than my classes, even the breakups. I would sit around smoking French cigarettes and moping about getting dumped.
I say to young people, “One of the most important decisions of your life is who you’re going to marry. Get really good at making that marriage decision. You need practice. You need to have relationships. A marriage is a 50-year conversation, ideally. Find someone you can talk to for the rest of your life. Love comes and goes, but admiration stays, so find someone you admire.”
So many of my students were like, “I don’t have time for relationships. I’m busy with this student activity, that student activity, this class, that class.” I would say, “You’re doing this wrong. Put relationships first and get practice being romantic.” So, I’m a little cupid on Ivy League campuses.
COWEN: Why don’t married couples have more sex? They’re there together. It seems better than anything else they could do. Is it the same reason younger people are not having more sex? If a married couple, after a while, is doing it twice a week, that’s thought of as . . . but there’re seven nights in a week and there’s some shortfall. Is it a price control?
BROOKS: I love it that I’m your sex guru.
COWEN: [laughs]
BROOKS: Well, this is such speculation. I assume they’re not doing it for the same reason everybody else is. They’re exhausted and they’re tired. Gee, I really can’t say anything. My wife’s voice is in my head like, “David, why do you speculate about that?”
COWEN: Should I think of smartphones as a kind of kryptonite, that literally they cripple our faculties? If that’s the case, why should I believe in freedom of speech, freedom of religion, rule of law, democratic constitutional government? As you and I both believe in. If there’s this one kryptonite that can so take us down, does that make you doubt those other broader commitments? See, in my view, it’s not a kryptonite, but what’s your take?
BROOKS: I think it’s a semi-kryptonite. If you want to get people addicted, give them irregularly timed rewards. They do this with mice, where they give them irregularly timed rewards, and the mice absolutely go crazy.
COWEN: But we’re not mice. We don’t favor liberalism for the mice. We favor them for the humans.
BROOKS: When I look at my phone, I think the next text is going to be interesting. I always am addicted to that next text, to that next email, and so my attention span is shot, just like everybody else’s. Listen, I’ve been totally persuaded by Jonathan Haidt that these really are bad. When I’ve been to a hundred high schools in the last couple of years, and where they ban the phones, the students are happy, the teachers are happy, everybody is happy.
But I don’t want to take human agency out of this. I think I use my iPhone, as I use AI, to help me think better. I try not to use it to think for me. It’s a tool like any tool. I think there’re ways to use it so it enhances your cognitive abilities and not distracts from it. When I look at my iPhone usage — the weekly report — I’m on Kindle a bunch of the time. That’s just reading. Then I’m reading the Marginal Revolution, which is crack for . . . No, I don’t think it’s had a terrible effect on my brain, but I’m in my 60s.
COWEN: Is it the only kryptonite humans face?
BROOKS: I think AI is also kryptonite in the exact same way, that if you’re a college kid, and you’re not doing any of your papers, you’re just using your GPT to write your papers — that’s kryptonite.
COWEN: Does it ruin you any more than old-style cheating? Which was very common. It was bad for people, but it didn’t ruin generations, right?
BROOKS: Yes. Though, that cheating took a lot of creativity, [laughs] and this cheating is total, it’s a totalistic cheating, where the model is literally doing most of your work. I follow you on AI. I’m 15 yards behind you the whole time. I think it’s generally great, but I think this one thing of robbing people of their own education is truly a serious threat.
COWEN: I’ve heard people in the AI sector from the major companies say they’re very worried that AI can be so persuasive. Do you find it so persuasive? Because I don’t. It will teach me lots of facts, and I will defer to it, but it’s never persuaded me much with arguments, whereas humans have. What’s your view? Is it kryptonite in that way?
BROOKS: See, it depends what you’re writing about. I was with an astrophysicist recently, who worked on a problem with eight of his senior colleagues for months. They put it to AI, and with a little extra prompting, it solved their problems in a couple of hours. I gather from economist friends that it can solve problems that only a few elite economists can solve.
I write about culture, psychology, sociology, politics. It’s pathetic. I cannot use AI, and I use it every day. I make the attempts, and because in the things I care about, which are more humanistic, it’s hoovering up all the crap on the internet about what love is, or do you grow from post-traumatic experiments? It’s just the pabulum that’s out there on random websites.
COWEN: What if you ask it, “What would David Brooks say?”
BROOKS: That’s what I do.
COWEN: Then it rises to the occasion.
BROOKS: Indeed, it’s brilliant in that case.
It’s a fricking moron. What I do is, I assign it voices. What does Jean Piaget say about this? Does he disagree with Erik Erikson about this? If you assign it to a voice, then you can screen out a lot. But I still have found it basically useless for my own research. It’s great as a travel agent. It’s great at a lot of things, but in humanistic inquiry, I find it pretty pathetic.
I do a lot of interviewing, as you do, with AI folks. I was at OpenAI several months ago, and somebody said, “We’re going to create a machine that can think like a human brain.” I call my neuroscientist friends, and they say, “Well, that’ll be a neat trick because we don’t know how human brains think.”
I think AI is a great tool, but I’m unthreatened by it because I don’t think it has understanding, I don’t think it has judgment, I don’t think it has emotion, I don’t think it has motivation. I don’t think it has most of the stuff that the human mind has. It’ll teach us what we’re good at by reminding it what it can’t do.
COWEN: If you asked it to write a 900-word column on a topic you would write on and asked it to be like you — let’s say this is the o3 model from OpenAI — and then you ran it through Claude to improve the writing style. How good does that result, in your —
BROOKS: I know you did this because I read your stuff, and you were impressed, but I was, (a) too afraid to do it because I might be impressed, but (b) it can’t possibly predict an idea I haven’t thought of yet. I hope I’m coming up with new stuff, and so I’m hoping it would be behind me, but I’m not going to try.
COWEN: How persuasive are novels to you now? Not in your whole life, not when you were younger, but right now. Do novels change how you think about things?
BROOKS: They can. I confess, I wrote a column recently on how the novel is not as central to American life as it used to be. When I was in college, when a Toni Morrison novel came out, when a Philip Roth novel came out, when a Saul Bellow novel came out, when a Tom Wolfe novel came out — those were big deals. They were big cultural events. We all talked about it. People reviewed the reviewers, and then there were a million book reviews. One of the sad things about the American literary life now is, there are many fewer book review outlets, so it’s really hard for an unknown novelist to get known.
Then I think the second thing that’s happened is that . . . Well, go to the 19th century, to the glory days. Charles Dickens literally changed the imagination of Britain by altering how people saw poverty. George Eliot literally changed the moral life of Britain, because as religion was fading, she presented another moral structure that people could sign on to. These novelists had these huge effects. Now, obviously we have movies now and TikTok, or whatever, YouTube and stuff like that.
Nonetheless, it wasn’t that long ago that a Tom Wolfe novel set in this city of New York — in I don’t know what year Bonfire of the Vanities was published, but I think sometime in the ’80s — all of New York got that because all of New York was represented.
We now live in a moment of great public tumult, a moment when our interior lives are directly affected by the trauma of our public lives. If there’s a novel that’s capturing what it’s like to live in this era, I’m not aware of it. I think this would’ve been a great era for a Balzac, for a Tom Wolfe, for that kind of social realist novel. In my view, the audacity is not there. In this column, I don’t know what —
COWEN: Audacity is the scarce factor in your account?
BROOKS: I think it’s a scarce factor. I don’t know what you would think of this, but I think back to when I was a teenager in the ’70s, and I look at the movies like Apocalypse Now, The Godfather — they seem big audacious. I listen to the rock songs I was listening to, “Free Bird,” “Stairway to Heaven,” “Bohemian Rhapsody” — they seem just more audacious.
COWEN: Sure, a big think.
BROOKS: You look at the journalists: Tom Wolfe, Joan Didion, Hunter S. Thompson. Those people couldn’t publish that stuff today because we’re less freewheeling, we’re more uptight. It seems to me there has been a loss of audacity in the culture, and it’s been replaced by professionalism and commercialism.
One of my heroes is an art critic named Kenneth Clark. He goes through the great high points of Western art. Those high points are defined by audacity. You look at the Renaissance — that was audacious. You look at the Russian novels — that was audacious. I think we’re just not at a moment where that kind of self-confidence — which is very hard to manufacture for one person; it takes a whole group — I just think we’re not at that moment.
COWEN: Building AI is audacious, right? Trump, whatever you think of him — he’s clearly audacious. You wouldn’t say the quality has left our culture, so why has it left the novel?
BROOKS: I think it’s left the humanities. I think the humanities have been backfooted, in part because, again, internet, all that stuff, the obvious stuff. The reason you would go to become an English major was because you want to understand how human beings operate. You want to be able to see the world. One of my heroes is this guy named John Ruskin, a 19th-century art critic. He says, for each thousand who can talk, there’s one who can think, but for each thousand who can think, there’s one who can see. It’s that ability to see reality. You go to Tolstoy — that guy could see reality.
You go to a Rembrandt painting, the Return of the Prodigal Son, which is in St. Petersburg. That’s a picture that Rembrandt painted when he was old, financially-troubled. His wife was dead. Four out of his five kids were dead. I’ve seen that parable painted many times, but I’ve never seen a parable where the prodigal son, this kid who’s been wandering about, is coming back in shame, is so naked and hairless and vulnerable. I’ve never seen a dad who’s coming out to greet him and welcoming him back, who’s so loving. You can imagine Rembrandt with his dead kids, thinking this is fatherhood.
There’s just a power. When you see that painting, you haven’t had new facts, but you’ve had a new emotional experience. To me, that’s what we get out of a novel or a piece of music or a painting, the ability to see the world. Somebody said we don’t see paintings; we see according to them. If you’ve seen Picasso’s Guernica, you’ve seen war according to Picasso. That was an audacious act of saying, “I am going to define how you’re going to see the reality around you.”
That took, in some cases, like Picasso, a male narcissist, but George Eliot did it too. “I’m going to shape your mind.” I think that big ambitiousness is less encouraged now for whatever reason.
COWEN: We are here talking to people. We could each be at home writing for them, but we’ve chosen to be talking. How much are we just evolving toward an oral culture? There’s audacity in oral culture. Very long podcasts, very ambitious, and it just doesn’t quite fit with the written word. A lot of the written word is boring or more mediocre. That’s the fundamental chain.
BROOKS: [laughs] I listen to your podcast every week, I’ve talked to you about it, and there are several podcasts I listen to every week, so I’m not anti-podcasts.
COWEN: No, you don’t have to be anti, but it may mean the great works will be oral moving forward and not written.
BROOKS: I don’t believe that. I mostly do audiobooks, because what do I want to hear? Two guys riffing or a book by somebody who spent four or five years on? I’m in the middle of the Buckley biography The author is a friend of mine.
COWEN: Tanenhaus, yes.
BROOKS: Sam Tanenhaus. He spent 20 years on that. There’s a density of knowledge and information that’s better than three hours of Joe Rogan riffing.
COWEN: What you’re saying now, you’ve spent X number of years, whatever your age is currently, developing that. It’s more than four years on a book. You’ve spent 60-plus years developing your ideas, and people want to hear them.
BROOKS: Yes. I spent 60 years preparing, and you asked me about sex.
[laughter]
COWEN: Maybe one needs 60 years to have answers to this question.
BROOKS: So, forget the answers to those questions.
COWEN: Now, you mentioned the Tanenhaus book. It’s striking because you appear as a character in the book. I know you haven’t gotten to that part yet, but surely you remember the reality that William F. Buckley was considering making you editor of National Review. What would your life have been like if you had received that offer? Would you have even taken it? What does that alternate universe look like?
BROOKS: The American conservative movement is going from strength to strength. Donald Trump is a failed real estate developer somewhere.
COWEN: [laughs]
BROOKS: I was never an orthodox National Review person, that kind of conservative. I was a neoconservative, which was different. Basically, you can tell what kind of conservative a person is by what year they want to go back to.
I’ve learned, especially from this Tanenhaus biography, that a lot of the old right National Review people wanted to go back to the 19th century. They were pre-New Deal. I never had a problem with the New Deal. I had some problems with some of the policies of the 1960s, and I was an urban kid. I was a New Yorker, and I was a Jew, and the magazine was Catholic. I’ve been told that one of the reasons I didn’t get the job was that reason.
COWEN: Tanenhaus says this.
BROOKS: Oh, does he?
COWEN: Yes.
BROOKS: Buckley was my mentor. We can tell that story, how that happened. I worked at National Review, and then I worked at the Wall Street Journal editorial page. I went from being an old right to being a free market, Wall Street Journal sort of person. I never had the opportunity to think for myself until I left those places and went to a place called the Weekly Standard. Suddenly, I could think for myself. It was funny how long — because I was in my 30s — before I really thought, “What do I believe?” Not how do I argue for the Wall Street Journal position on this, or the National Review position.
When I did that, I found I had two heroes. One was Edmund Burke, whose main idea is epistemological modesty. Change is really complicated, and we should be really cautious about what we think we can know about reality. The second was Alexander Hamilton, who’s a Puerto Rican hip-hop star from Washington Heights. Hamilton’s belief was using government in limited but energetic ways to create a dynamic country where poor boys and girls like him could rise and succeed.
That involves a lot more state intervention than National Review would be comfortable with. So, I became sort of a John McCain Republican. Now, another one of my other heroes is this guy named Isaiah Berlin, and toward the end of his life, Berlin said, “I’m very happy to be on the rightward edge of the leftward tendency.” That’s where I found myself today, as a conservative Democrat. I would not have fit in at National Review because I didn’t really hew to the gospel.
COWEN: If you self-report that you weren’t thinking so much for yourself back then, was Buckley, in fact, a good mentor?
BROOKS: Fantastic.
COWEN: That seems to be the test failing.
BROOKS: Let’s put it this way. Let me quickly tell the story of how I met him. I’m with the University of Chicago. I’m a humor columnist. Back then, I was funnier. Buckley comes to campus, and he just published a book called Overdrive, which is one of his memoirs of name-dropping the pope and David Niven and all these people. I wrote a parody, a mean parody, of him for being a name-dropping blowhard. Some of the jokes . . . the only one I remember now from that parody of long ago was, while at Yale, Buckley formed two magazines, one called the National Buckley, and one called the Buckley Review, which he merged to form the Buckley Buckley.
COWEN: [laughs]
BROOKS: He came to campus and he said, “David Brooks, if you’re in the audience, I want to give you a job.” That was my big break. Sadly, I was not in the audience. I called him up three years later, as I’d become more conservative, and said, “Is the offer still open?” He said, “Yes.” He hired me without asking anything about his ideology, which is his mode, because he hired Joan Didion the same way. He hired Garry Wills the same way. This guy John Leonard, who’s a very great book critic, the same way. Just, can the person write?
He gave me all these assignments, and I remember my drafts coming back filled with his red ink. It would say, “Come on, David, you can do better than this.” That was mentoring. Then he took me out yachting with him and to Bach concerts in the back of his limo back when limos were a thing. I’d never imagined glamor of this level. He took us out to dinner every Monday night at his house. I remember his wife Pat would come by with her Bill Blass and all these glamorous designer friends, and they’d look at Bill like, “What are you doing eating with the Star Wars bar every Monday night?”
He really educated me to the world and gave me a crucial thing that journalists have to know, which is a sense of the news cycle. What do people want to read about tomorrow? Not the thing they want to read about four days ago. You’ve got to hit the cycle. That was just so valuable to know, helped me in my editing, and then he sent me off. He got me a job and then let me go. That process of letting me go — I was fine with it. I went off and lived my life.
COWEN: That was being the great mentor, that he let you go.
BROOKS: Yes, but a lot of people who had my job were deeply hurt when he let them go. He thought they would cut him off, and they were betrayed. There was a whole series of very nasty articles about Bill written by people who felt that was a betrayal. But I regard that as one of the great acts of mentorship — as in the great act of parenting — letting the person go and have their life.
COWEN: Was Milton Friedman a good mentor?
BROOKS: He also was a great mentor.
COWEN: What made him great?
BROOKS: The reason I wasn’t at the Buckley speech was I’d been hired. I was a Democratic socialist, and I was hired to go out to Stanford and debate him on national TV. If you go back, and Tyler has seen this, I think if you go on YouTube and write Milton Friedman, David Brooks —
COWEN: It’s there.
BROOKS: — you’ll see me with this —
COWEN: He’s younger. [laughs]
BROOKS: — big afro, these 1980s glasses that looked like they were on loan from the Mount Palomar Observatory. They were gigantic. Then I read something I’d read in a Robert Kutner book, and then he destroys it in six seconds. Then the camera lingers on my face for about 19 seconds while I try to think of something to say. That was the show.
But afterwards, he would have us out to dinner, and then we would pepper him with questions about, “Well, how does the economy work here? How does it work there?” I would say my education from him came from those dinners and then subsequent dinners over the years. I grew up here in Stuyvesant Town. I had never met a conservative. To meet somebody so bright and somebody so wise and rational who was outside the left, that was mind-opening to me.
One final thing about both these guys. I had a chance, at the end of their lives separately, to say, “Okay, Bill, okay, Milton, you’ve changed the world.” Bill Buckley created the modern conservative movement. Milton Friedman widened the aperture of economics. I asked them both, “Now you’ve done all this, you’re older. Do you have a feeling that you can just relax?” Like, “I did what I was put on this earth to do. I’m happy, I’m good, and I’m just going to play golf.”
Neither of those guys understood the question. Neither of them had the ability to slow down and to stop trying to change the world. They both kept trying to change the world until their very last days.
COWEN: If you think about Buckley, where you disagree with him, and I don’t mean on particular issues — I feel I know that — but his method of thought, what is there in his method of thought where you would say, “I, David Brooks, diverge from Buckley in a fundamental way”?
BROOKS: His gift and his curse was that he couldn’t slow down his thinking. I would see him write a column in 20 minutes, and if he wrote it for an hour, it would get no better. He just moved at that speed. It takes me two days to write a column. It takes me 14, 20 hours. That’s one thing.
Second, he grew out of such a different background. His dad, as we know from this book, was an old right America Firster. My parents were Lower East Side New York intellectual progressives. I always felt at home in a diverse America, in a regular working-class America that was light years away from the world he inhabited.
COWEN: Your difference with Milton Friedman, again, not on specific issues such as the New Deal, but conceptually, how is it that you think differently from how Milton did?
BROOKS: Friedman — his great gift — and I think this is a libertarian gift — is that once you get inside their logical system, within their assumptive models, there’s no arguing with them. It all fits together. I don’t believe in assumptive models. I’m much less rational. I think human beings are much less rational than needed. I think they obviously respond to incentives in some ways, but often respond to incentives in no rational way. I’m, again, being more neoconservative than conservative, or more whatever you want to call it, a Humean.
I really do believe that David Hume’s famous sentence that reason is and ought to follow the passions — I believe that’s true, that our passions are wiser than our reasonable mind, and that our emotions, when well trained, are much more supple and much more responsible for the way we think. Again, I may be caricaturing, but the rational school of economics thought, well, you see the world, that simple process of looking, and then weigh costs and benefits about the world, and then you make a decision about the world, I don’t believe that’s the way thinking works.
I think the act of perception is 90 percent of what you think, that whether we’re seeing a moral act, or seeing a good on a supermarket shelf, or seeing another human being, we’re making quick aesthetic judgements that will determine all the downstream thought processes, and that’s why so many neuroscientists are phenomenologists now, because perception is most of what the mind does. On your last podcast, you had a conductor.
COWEN: Yes. David Robertson.
BROOKS: One of the things he did, he mentioned on that podcast, was he took a mix tape and he put all sorts of music together — AC/DC, Springsteen, Berlioz — in 2.5-second increments, and people could decide right away, “That’s for me. That’s not for me.” I felt like screaming at my car radio, “Why 2.5 seconds? Why not 0.5 seconds?” Because that’s how we make up our minds. That aesthetic sense of perception, to me, is how people make up their minds in all sorts of circumstances, including economic circumstances.
COWEN: You were a reporter covering a crime beat on Chicago’s South Side, right? What was that like phenomenologically? Were you thinking this is the Milton Friedman rational model? Or how did it shape you?
BROOKS: No, because mostly what I covered was incredible idiots. I covered —
COWEN: You mean the criminals or the police or both?
BROOKS: Well, actually, one of the humbling things was, I’d come out of the University of Chicago, and I’m sitting there with the detectives in all these different police stations on the southwest side of Chicago, and I realized the detectives are as smart as my professors. I was very impressed by them. A lot of the criminals I covered — they were criminals because they hadn’t thought something through. For example, I covered a guy who worked at McDonald’s, and he conducted an armed robbery at the McDonald’s where he worked.
COWEN: [laughs]
BROOKS: They said, “John, we know you.” Another couple of guys who broke out of some jail, it must have been, and they decided they were hungry, so they ate at the restaurant nearby, and they ate in the window booth and were caught. I covered a lot of that. I was not planning on being a journalist. I’m still not really a journalist, but to come home every day as a police reporter with an amazing story about something happening in a great city —
COWEN: How did that influence your columns? You had to write up crime reports, right?
BROOKS: I didn’t even write. I called them in.
COWEN: Called them in.
BROOKS: It was for something called the City News Bureau. The slogan was, “If your mother says she loves you, check it out.” I remember I would call in, and this was back in an earlier era, where I would call in. I’d see a body that had been killed in some way, and the editor back at the desk would say, “What color were the socks?” I would say, “I don’t know, I didn’t see that.” They would say, “You are the worst reporter who’s ever worked here,” and they would just scream at you. That was part of the —
COWEN: That was good for you as mentorship or bad for you?
BROOKS: I’m a little sensitive, so that part was bad.
COWEN: It got you used to the online world, right?
BROOKS: I’ll say one thing, especially for those academics who are listening. Listen, I totally respect randomized controlled experiments and the sorts of things academics do, but journalism has a mode of knowing that’s equally valid, and that is the interview. I sometimes get frustrated with social scientists who give us data about populations of people, but don’t take the time to interview any particular individual. I’ve had some interviews that were life-changing and that I remember to this day. My best interview, or at least my funniest, was with a comedian named Jackie Gleason, which was just two hours of his jokes.
One, I was in Russia in 1991. There’s a coup staged by the Soviets, the dying Soviet Union, against Yeltsin. A lot of people, I hope, remember this moment. Yeltsin stood on a tank in front of the Russian parliament building and said, “I dare you to shoot me.” All the Democrats ran to surround him to be bodyguards. I go there. I’m in Moscow. I run into a woman. I hesitate because I know we have some Russian friends in the room. I hope I don’t mispronounce the name. As I remember, it was a 93-year-old lady named Valentina Kosieva. She was handing out sandwiches to the democratic protesters. I asked her, “Tell me your life story.”
She said, “Well, I’d grown up in the general household of the czar. There was a Russian civil war right after the revolution. I was on the side of the Whites, the anti-communists. I was lined up to be executed. My mother begged, and the soldiers decided not to shoot me.”
Her first husband was taken to Gulag in the ’30s. She never saw him again. Her two sons were killed in the Battle of Stalingrad. They were bayoneted by the Nazis. Her second husband — one day they raided her apartment. They said, “You have 15 minutes to leave, but he’s coming with us.” She never saw him again.
She was a member of, I think, the Kalmyk people, which is a Muslim community there. They were sent to internal exile under Khrushchev. Every bad thing that happened in Soviet history happened to her. My brilliant interviewing technique in that interview was just, “And then what happened? And then what happened?”
The power of that interview is living history. You see how these great sweeps of history influence one woman. She ends her days at what we then saw was the birth of democratic Russia, and she’s passing out sandwiches. As a journalist, I so defend the epistemology of the interview. Our problem is we don’t use data enough. Academics — their problem is they don’t use interviews enough.
COWEN: Now, the 1990s — you’re working for the Wall Street Journal in Brussels, I believe. Who was your mentor there? And what did you learn from them?
BROOKS: By then, the adult world had cast me off. I think I stopped having mentors. I consider Buckley and Friedman my mentors because I was young and impressionable. I had bosses, and of course, that matters all through life. At The Wall Street Journal, my two bosses were a guy named Robert Bartley and a guy named George Malone. They were farm boys from Iowa and Indiana.
Because they were Midwestern guys of a certain generation, they were very comfortable with long silences. Our editorial meetings would be them sitting basically parallel to the ground, staring off into the wall. As a New York Jew, I’m sitting like this. I’m saying to myself, “I will not break this silence. I will not break this silence.” That was an experience of learning to work with people who were of a different part of American culture than I was from.
Do people have mentors when they’re in their 30s or 40s?
COWEN: I still have many mentors, and they’re mostly younger. They teach me things like AI. I think you need more mentors as you get older, actually, not fewer.
BROOKS: Yes. this may pertain to the subject. I read this book, Snowball, about Warren Buffett. What’s remarkable about him was his ability to grab onto whoever could teach him. Early, when he was a socially awkward kid, he grabs onto Dale Carnegie. This guy provides him with a system to socialize. Then he gloms onto Ben Graham and his investing model. Then he gloms onto Charlie Munger. You think, “Oh, he’s still glomming on in his 40s.”
Then in his 50s, he gloms onto Catherine Graham, the owner of the Washington Post. She’s taking him to parties in New York and Washington, which are totally alien to him, and he’s loving it because he’s getting to sit next to Dolly Parton and Lady Di. He thinks, “This is great. I get to enter a new world.” Then in his 70s, he gloms onto Bill Gates. He teaches him about philanthropy and the tech.
One of the things I admire most is people who are different in their 70s than they were in their 60s, different in their 50s than they were in their 30s. Warren Buffett is a guy who just gloms onto whoever can teach him. That would be an example of being mentored through life.
COWEN: I have a few questions about politics. Are we allowed?
BROOKS: Sure. You may have to pay me double.
COWEN: [laughs] You mentioned before that you used to be a neoconservative. Now we’re in 2025, and we see Russia has proven quite weak in some ways. Iran, extremely weak. Hezbollah, mostly devastated. Hamas, on its heels.
Is it the case that, other than occupying countries, that the neocons were right about most things, and you should actually just be a neocon again? True or false? The neocons are anti-Trump. You’re anti-Trump. Are you, in some sense, headed toward being a revised neocon, where occupation is the belief you’ve jettisoned? Afghanistan didn’t work. Iraq was very messy, right? Does that make sense to you?
BROOKS: I’m still consistent with that belief. To me, neocon was a specific group of people. They tend to have grown up in the 1920s and ’30s, usually Jewish from Brooklyn. Usually, they went to City College of New York. In those days in City College, they were all Marxists, but there were Stalinists, who were the dumber Marxists, and there were Trotskyites, who were the smarter Marxists. They ate in different alcoves in the cafeteria. Because the Trotskyites were smarter, the Stalinists did something intelligent, which is, they said, “You’re not allowed to talk to the Trotskyites.”
All the Trotskyites turned into neocons, or not all, but many. Irving Kristol was there, a guy named Daniel Bell, Nathan Glazer. That was the cohort that I followed. They were, like me, totally fine with the New Deal. They thought that American culture began to go off the rails in the 1960s, with a rebellion against bourgeois culture, which their immigrant parents were really part of, with the spoiled rich kids who formed the New Left, and they became suspicious of some of the Great Society social programs, which they thought were counterproductive.
I think they were pretty much right about all that. The second thing they were right about is, they emphasized that you can’t analyze society unless you’re willing to analyze — and do this dangerously — the moral fabric of the society.
COWEN: You’re sounding more and more neocon the more you go on.
BROOKS: I know, I’m getting into it.
COWEN: [laughs]
BROOKS: There was a guy named James Q. Wilson, who wrote a great book called The Moral Sense, which I highly recommend. Irving Kristol’s wife was Gertrude Himmelfarb, a historian, really, of how morality changes across civilizations. That strikes me as absolutely essentially true. I don’t think it’s possible to understand America today without understanding the fact that most people used to feel held within a moral order.
George Marsden is a historian who said that what gave Martin Luther King’s rhetoric such power was his sense that morality — right and wrong are built into the natural law of the universe. That segregation is not wrong in some places. It’s that segregation is always wrong; slavery is always wrong. That sense of a held moral order was essential to the existential security of all people in our society and our ability to settle disputes, because we had an understanding of right and wrong.
That begins to go away relatively early. Back in 1955, Walter Lippmann, a great columnist, wrote a book called The Public Philosophy. In that book, he says, if what is right or wrong is determined by what each individual feels, then we have left the grounds of civilization. I think that was profoundly true. Gertrude Himmelfarb and James Q. Wilson would say that there is a moral order and we have shredded it, and we’re living off the fumes of that order. Once that goes away, then you’re in trouble. I think they were right about that.
COWEN: So, we’re all going to sign up for being neocons, but what’s the fundamental dimension where maybe you’re not a neocon if there is one?
BROOKS: I root for Barack Obama and Joe Biden. I don’t know if that would’ve flown. Just to go on a little, they were right about some things about foreign policy. They were right about the Soviet Union, that it was worth trying to push back and —
COWEN: Just stand up to evils, even naively, right?
BROOKS: In my view, they were right about the idea that the internal nature of regimes determines the foreign policy of those regimes, that a dictatorship is bound to be more dangerous than a democracy. What they and I were wrong about was the belief that we could export democracy from outside.
COWEN: Occupation — you’re like a neocon minus the occupation status.
BROOKS: I’m a pacifist neocon. I do think they were right about not totally trusting capitalism. Irving Kristol wrote a book, Two Cheers for Capitalism. I think if you go back and read some of the writings from that generation, it’s worth remembering they were not Republicans. They were a break-off from liberalism. I think they were skeptical and realist and a sophisticated break-off from what was conventional 1960s liberals.
COWEN: I promised you only one question about Trump. Trump has made a mess of our relations with our European allies, but in fact, it’s led them to spend more money on defense. In my view, that’s a good thing. I’ve spoken to a lot of European elites who say they think it’s a great thing. These are mostly people who hate Trump, but they say, “We are secretly thankful to Trump that he’s now letting us do this.”
Now, in my opinion, it’s still not worth it, but my question for you is this: Let’s say the Israel-Iran thing also goes well. I’m not sure it will, but let’s say it does. What’s the minimum number of different things you would have to add up on your ledger before you, David Brooks, the reform neocon, would say the Trump thing worked out okay or even better? What does that menu have to look like? I’m not saying —
BROOKS: First, you’re asking me to hive off the moral degradation of America, which to me is a big deal.
COWEN: Of course it is, but what does the list have to look like for you to make the trade-off?
BROOKS: First, let me get the headline before we get to your caveats. Charles de Gaulle wrote a memoir, and in that first sentence of the memoir, his memoir, was, “All my life, I’ve had a certain idea about France.” I would say all my life, I’ve had a certain idea about America, that we’re sometimes a foolish nation. We’re often a naive nation, but we’re rarely a cruel and ill-intentioned nation. We may disagree about this, but I thought the decision, at least temporarily, to get rid of PEPFAR was deliberate and cruel.
COWEN: No, we agree.
BROOKS: Has led to, already, tens of thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of deaths. The treatment of Zelensky, cruel and malevolent. I wake up with a lot of malevolence, but I do have to concede that Trump is never totally wrong. When he said USAID was a poorly managed program, that was true. It was a poorly managed program that happened to save a lot of lives.
When he says that Harvard is too left wing, too dogmatic, too unicultural, that’s true. I was at a conference of academics out in Utah not long ago, and I said, “I’m appalled by what he’s doing to the universities, but I have to say I think it’s 20 percent your fault.” Some of the professors raised their hand and said, “No, it’s 40 percent our fault.” He’s never totally wrong. I think there was truth to things he said about Europe underspending. He wasn’t totally wrong.
My problem with him — he’s like a doctor, and you go in to him and you say, “Doc, I’ve got acne,” and the doctor says, “Oh, good, decapitation. We’re going to decapitate you.” That’s what he does. He takes something that needs to be reformed, like our alliances with our European ally, and he trashes them. Something that needs to be reformed — the university system — attack. Something that needs to be reformed — USAID, Department of Education, you name it, and it’s just random destruction.
There are things I think he’s done well. I think the Iran thing was the right call. There are other things I think he’s done well. Frankly, the tariffs so far have not had the deleterious effects that I expected, though I think they will. I have to give him credit. There’s always some basis of truth to the critique he made, that he’s got a lot of things going against him.
Americans are swinging to the left on immigration right now. Americans are for pluralism and multicultural diversity. Even white Christians are for that. He’s not. He is away from the American mainstream. My America is Alexander Hamilton American. I like dynamism, I like social mobility. He is a securitarian. Let’s just keep us safe. So, I think he’s way out of the American idea as I’ve understood it over the last 300 years.
But the one thing he gets right is, he tells a story that the elites betrayed you, and Americans, it turns out, will pardon him for a lot of things if he gets that story right. I think that story is basically right. Believe me, I’m a member of the establishment, but the American establishment has betrayed large numbers of Americans, just as the French establishment has betrayed a lot of French people. He gets that story right, and that’s why he’s president.
COWEN: What do you think is the point estimate of the probability that at the end of the term, you basically say he got enough things right, that it was worth it?
BROOKS: That I will say that?
COWEN: That you will say it.
BROOKS: You can bury me now. I will not be saying that.
[laughter]
COWEN: We agree there’s something, right now, quite screwed up in the American psyche. Maybe sometimes it’s hard to diagnose, but it seems to me often fairly fundamental. Should we consider the uncomfortable idea that only major involvement in a war — a war with true danger, not an excursion — that only that would reinvigorate the American spirit? Is that a serious idea or is that just an awful thought? Is there any truth to it?
BROOKS: Yes, I used to think if we had a war with, like Canada, somebody I thought we could take, then that would unify us, but now we might have a war with Canada, so I’m . . . If you look at the history of the world, there are two things that don’t bring countries together, or at least that make countries uglier. I would say pandemics and wars are among them. I’m not a believer that you go to war to save the culture of your country.
COWEN: Not with that intent, but could that be the end result? World War II, Korean War. Arguably, that would result —
BROOKS: I would like to see Americans who oppose Donald Trump create a mass movement in the way Israelis created a mass movement against Netanyahu’s judicial reform, in the way Filipinos created a mass movement against Marcos. I think that would have an enormously positive effect on the body politics. For those of us who oppose Donald Trump to have to articulate our principles, to organize, to create a civic structure across class, a civic structure to come up with an alternative vision that’s better than the elites who betrayed you.
I think that would lead to American renewal. That does not seem to be happening because the leaders of our major institutions, whether it’s corporations, universities, and so on, are basically laying low.
COWEN: What is the kind of shock that will work?
BROOKS: I gave you all the statistics of how sad we are. My analysis is, there’s an attachment theorist named John Bowlby who said that all of life is a series of daring explorations from a secure base. That secure base for most of us is a secure attachment to mom and dad, a secure devotion to a specific place, the place that’s sacred to us. Assured devotion to our nation and confidence that our nation stands for something good. Secure implantation in, as I said, a moral order.
I think that secure base for a lot of people has been destroyed. Families are less healthy than they were. Communities are less healthy where the moral order has been taken away, so that we privatize morality. It’s every man and woman for herself.
COWEN: Two-parent families seem to be doing quite well. It’s a problem that there’re fewer of them.
BROOKS: That’s a problem. That is the core problem.
COWEN: But within the two-parent families, it seems above average to me by historical standards.
BROOKS: The lack of a secure base, just like social suffering everywhere, is not evenly distributed. People with high school degrees die 15 years sooner than people with college degrees. People with high school degrees are five times less likely to get married. They’re much more likely to get divorced. They’re five times more likely to die of opiate addiction. They’re 2.4 times more likely to say they have no friends.
Among the upper middle class with intact families, guess what, that’s easier. But among working-class folks, or folks with a high school degree, with no marriage, no job, shorter lifespans, it looks pretty grim, and I understand why they vote the way they do.
COWEN: And the shock that will get us out of that is most likely to be what?
BROOKS: In my view, individuals, like nations, come back through a process of rupture and repair. You go through a hard time. When I ask people, “Tell me about a time that made you who you are,” nobody ever says to me, “I took this vacation in Hawaii. That was awesome. That made me who I am.” No, they went through a hard time.
I went through a hard time 12 years ago. You knew me then. I’d gone through a divorce. My kids were leaving home, and I realized I had not lived my life in the way that was consistent with my values. Which was to say, I think I value friendship and relationships over anything else. Yet I had become such a workaholic that I had just neglected so many friendships, and it was a period of intense loneliness.
I read a book by a guy named Henri Nouwen, a Catholic theologian, who said, “When you’re in pain, you have to stay in the pain to see what it has to teach you.” I was like, “Screw that. I want to get out of the pain.” Then I read another book, by a guy named Frederick Buechner, who was a novelist and a pastor, who said, “In those moments of pain, you can either be broken or broken open. To be broken, you get calloused over. To be broken open, you make yourself even more vulnerable, even though it’s a hard time.”
That process of rupture and repair, going through that phase in the valley — I think that’s how people grow. Nations go through periods of rupture and repair. We went through a period of rupture and repair in the 1870s. We came back. The 1830s, the Andrew Jackson populism, 1890s when we really screwed up how to handle industrialization, 1960s with bombings, assassinations, riots. By 1974, the kids were into crystal and est and disco.
You go through this rupture, and then you repair. I think we’re in that period of rupture, where people get disgusted with established power, and the whole social fabric is marred by intense social distrust. But we’ve been through this process before, and I have every confidence we’ll go through a process of repair. I think that process is already happening. Some of the outrages of left and right that occurred during the pandemic — I think those have calmed down. I think the Democratic Party is lost, but they’re humble, which is the beginning of repair. What’ll happen to the Republican party? I don’t know.
But I think we’re already in a process of restoring that trust. I run this little nonprofit called Weave, a social fabric project. We take people who are trusted in their local neighborhood, and we try to support them. We go into any town in America, and we say, “Who’s trusted here?” People give us names, local trust merchants, and they’re everywhere.
There’s one — you know Columbia Heights, which is a neighborhood in DC. We asked, “Who’s trusted in this neighborhood?” There’s apparently some guy who takes the money at the parking lot in the little booth, and he has an obsession with city zoning regulations. If you have a problem with the city, you go to the guy in the parking lot, and he takes care of your problem. Those people are in every neighborhood in America, and I think that bottom-up rebuilding of trust is the precondition for a national restoration of trust.
COWEN: Two last questions. The first one is very easy. How are we actually going to get out of the fertility crisis?
BROOKS: Well, you’re the sex communicator.
[laughter]
BROOKS: I have not seen anything that particularly works besides we make everybody turn Ultraorthodox Jewish.
COWEN: Or Amish.
BROOKS: Or Amish. Amish would be great. Some religious revival — that would do it. In my view, that’s not about money, though money is part it. It’s about, “Wow, look at all these great restaurants. I don’t want to miss this.” That’s what I saw when I lived in Europe and saw the fertility crash. That’s a genuinely serious problem barring some sort of religious revival.
COWEN: Last question. What will you do next?
BROOKS: Play for the New York Mets. No, my next book is on motivation. My belief is that we vastly overvalue the power of intelligence. We know a lot about emotions, but we don’t know a lot about what they call conation, which is where our desires come from. To me, what you desire is the most important thing about you. Augustine said, “We’re not primarily thinking creatures. We’re primarily desiring creatures.” What you desire determines what you believe. So, I’d like to know how to ramp up desires, how to be motivational.
You wrote the book on talent, and one of the points you make in there that I truly believe in is that intelligence matters. We both agree on that, but stamina really matters. Determination really matters. I won’t say the AI CEO, who was off the record, so I can’t mention his name, but you can guess.
[laughter]
BROOKS: I said, “When you’re hiring somebody, what do you ask them?” He said, “After the interview, I walk out, and I say, Was that person a force of nature?” They want to know who’s going to run through walls. You have a great question in that book: Are you ambitious? People are not going to lie about that. I ran into an interviewer, and he wanted to test people’s moral character. His question was, “Tell me about a time you told the truth and it hurt you.” So, I used to tell my Yale students, “If you can fake that one, you can get a job.”
I think we’ve amputated the importance of what we stupidly call the non-cognitive skills, which is social skills, which is drive, which is motivation. I’d like to understand them.
COWEN: David Brooks, thank you very much.
[applause]
COWEN: “David, have we reached or passed peak broad-based human intellect?”
BROOKS: Wow. No, I’m with you on AI, that it’s an introduction of a new form of intelligence in the world, and it’s going to unbalance and make us smarter. If I have a tool that can help me answer questions, I think we’ll still store it in our brain.
I’m trying to figure out what the question’s getting at. Do you think it’s getting at, will we rely on AI so much we won’t know stuff?
COWEN: I don’t know. I think there’s the sense that once there was a Goethe, a John Milton. Maybe today, that’s harder. There was a peak for that kind of intellect, and now everyone’s so specialized, so I tend to agree we passed that peak.
BROOKS: Have you read your blog?
COWEN: [laughs]
BROOKS: “Things I’m reading: Swedish basket making, Austrian economics, astrophysics.” You’re the omnivore. I think, on the contrary, that in an age of specialization, it’s got to be an advantage to be a generalist. The problem with being a generalist — and as a journalist, it’s sort of what I am — is you have to understand the whole field, and you’ve got to know who’s over here on this side of the field, who’s over there. When you try to capture the field, you don’t want to take too many risks. You want to go right down the middle of what’s conventional within the field, rather than picking some Loony Tune.
That turns out to be a rather hard thing to do. In some fields, there’s no middle. I would say the study of intelligence — what’s the correlation between IQ and success? I think there are randomly divergent explanations, and if you wander into that field and you pick one, all the other people will say you’re an idiot. But in general, I think the ability to do what journalists do, which is to go into a field and understand what’s the consensus here, and then to compare the field of economics to the field of physics — I think there’s great fertility there.
COWEN: Here’s a question for both of us. I’ll answer it first. “What do the two of you admire about each other?” I would say, when any question or topic comes up, that you put what is humane about the issue first, and that this is truly internalized. It’s not just a habit you force on yourself. It may have somewhat been that at first, which is pretty common, but it is you now, and it’s the most defining feature of you. That would be my answer.
BROOKS: Wow. That is the person I’d like to be, actually, so I find that very honoring. Thank you. Somebody said, actually, in that book, that he didn’t know anybody with more conceptual models in your head that you can apply to any situation. I would just say the one feature I admire more than any others is to be a lifelong learner.
There’s a book I read by a woman named Susan Engle. There’s a woman named Susan Engle who works here in the Y. She did some research into how many questions does a three-year-old ask. The median three-year-old is 140 questions an hour. If any of you have kids, you’ve been there. But then they go to elementary school, and the teachers know that if the kid asks the questions, it’ll take them off course, and they won’t be able to cover content.
This woman — she’s observing classrooms, and literally, she writes down, “A teacher says this.” Some kids had found an old-fashioned scale in the classroom, and they were playing around with it, figuring out how it worked. The teacher said to them, “We don’t have time to experiment now. We’re doing science.” That’s the way they repress curiosity, but your curiosity has not been repressed.
COWEN: Here’s one. I hope it offends no one in the audience. This is from Ted. “To David, would you agree with Tyler that New York City is no longer a cultural center of America?” The cultural center, I would say. It’s a cultural center, really.
BROOKS: My family has been here for five generations, so that’s a tough one. I would say I think New York City — to the extent that America has a cultural center, which I’m not sure it does anymore — I would still say New York City is (a) the cultural center, (b) the most dynamic city in America. But, and it pains me to say this, I do think, if you ask me the most dynamic city in the world, given my experience, I would have to say London is more dynamic than New York.
COWEN: I think London has gotten considerably worse in the last five to ten years, actually. China aside, which is just a different comparison, I would say the Bay Area.
BROOKS: Interesting.
COWEN: What truly influences our life? A lot of your early answers were about social media and phones. However good or bad you think it is, we talked about AI. Those are ideas from there, not here.
BROOKS: Right, but they’re technical ideas.
COWEN: Sure, but that’s what it is.
BROOKS: The Bay Area is incredibly insular when it comes to political and other things.
COWEN: Maybe those are, right now, the less important ideas, at least temporarily. We’ve turned political idea-making over to goodness knows what or whom, but we’ve done it. You know who is from Queens, right?
BROOKS: Right.
[laughter]
BROOKS: You can’t shake me off my . . . I’m the only person. I live in DC. I come up here, I get off at Penn Station. I’m on 8th Avenue and 33rd Street, which is god-awful ugly. I think, “Oh, my heart rate can go down now. I’m with my people.”
[laughter]
BROOKS: I still think New York operates at a pace that no other city operates.
COWEN: “How does a greater adoption of AI influence political party realignment?”
BROOKS: Hmm. I’m not so much of the belief that technology influences that stuff as other people are. I don’t think social media has . . . It’s had a negative effect on society in all sorts of ways. I can say it may have weakened the power of the mainstream media and created more fringe, but I think what influences people is their direct lived experience, not so much media. Now, I don’t even mean social media; I mean all media. I was at a conference — many years ago, decades ago — of sexologists. You would have felt right at home.
[laughter]
BROOKS: You would have been right at home.
COWEN: I knew —
BROOKS: A more boring group of people you never want to meet.
COWEN: — you’re holding back your wisdom from us.
[laughter]
BROOKS: One of the things I learned from them is that if you had looked at the media in the ’60s, you would have thought sexual behavior changed radically because suddenly there was porn everywhere, there was nudity everywhere. But actually, sexual behavior changed in World War I and World War II. It was the actual act of going to France.
[laughter]
COWEN: Not Germany.
BROOKS: Not Germany, except for the king. It’s not something that you consume in the media. It’s things that happen actually in your actual life that change behavior in such ways. If there’s going to be a political realignment, it’ll be because of what happened that caused MAGA.
I drive around the country. I visit like 35 states a year. It used to be, you would drive from what we now consider a college-educated area to a red area, a working-class area, and they were different, but they didn’t seem like different nations. Starting about 10 years ago, I would drive from whatever, Salmon, Idaho, to Sun Valley, Idaho, and you were like in different universes. The physical change in the way the two different kinds of towns worked is dramatic.
I ran into a guy who used to handle travel for the Boston Celtics back in the Larry Bird era — not that long ago. They used to fly commercial, and they used to have to carry their bags and stuff like that. Now, people like that have no contact with regular old commercial flight. The rich people used to be a little normal. Now the rich people are just rich people. That actual social distancing changes people’s viewpoints more than media technology.
COWEN: Here’s my follow-up. Won’t AI make us more objective? At least, the current models — they seem to be more objective than the New York Times. If you ask them a question, they’re rarely crazy. They give you pretty good answers to a lot of controversial questions. I don’t always agree, but they seem to me the most objective source out there.
BROOKS: I haven’t really thought about that. As a person who gets paid by the New York Times, I have to know that a lot of their data is stolen from, is taken from the New York Times.
COWEN: They read you because they love you.
BROOKS: I find they’re blander, though. There’s all this hedging. They don’t want to offend anybody. I don’t like AI because they want to please you. I tried Claude and that Chinese DeepSeek one. That was too nice to me.
COWEN: Maybe that is objective.
[laughter]
BROOKS: Maybe that is.
COWEN: Here’s a longer question. “You’ve convinced me that many of America’s ills are social in nature, not economic. My question: What does this imply for those of us pursuing large-scale change? What’s the political agenda that I could spend a career promoting to help all this?” Simple question.
[laughter]
COWEN: Let’s ask ChatGPT, right? Get an objective answer.
BROOKS: I do think our core problems are sociological and cultural and psychological and moral. If you wanted to work on a core problem, rebuilding social trust — if you can figure out how to do that, it would be an awesome contribution.
When I look at how countries recover, and Bob Putnam of Harvard has done this for one period when America recovered, and it’s from 1880 to 1910. The recovery there took place in three phases. First, there was a cultural renaissance. Social Darwinism, which was hyper individualistic and sharp-elbowed, was replaced by the social gospel movement, which was more communal.
That was followed by a civic renaissance. You had in the 1890s, the creation of the Boys and Girls Clubs, the Sierra Club, the NAACP, the union movement, the temperance movement, the settlement house movement. People basically decided, we have to form civic organizations because all our organizations are designed for a country where people are living on the Kansas prairie, and now we’ve got a million kids in Baltimore and Cleveland and Chicago. So, they had a civic renaissance.
And that was followed by the progressive movement, where they cleaned up government, FDA, eventually the Federal Reserve system. To me, if you want to work on the rebirth of the country, that basic model strikes me as very persuasive. You can work on the cultural piece to re-envision who we are and what we believe and what our values are. You can work on the civic piece, which is to create this civic social capital so people can coordinate, or you can work on the political reform piece.
The one thing I’d say about the political reform piece — I just reread a book I hadn’t read since college called The Age of Reform by Richard Hofstadter, a very great historian. One of the things that struck me is that now, we think populism — Donald Trump is over here, progressivism and AOC is over here. But from 1870 to 1917, the progressive populists were one movement. It strikes me that the progressives need the populists to stay in touch with the real America, and the populists need the progressives to be a little sophisticated on the educational front.
It was very useful to have a movement that was half JD Vance or Josh Hawley and half AOC. That would be interesting.
COWEN: Here’s one I’ll paraphrase. The New York City government has a lot of influence and resources. Why are not more ambitious people determined to become mayor? There’s at least one, right?
BROOKS: Yes.
COWEN: It seems like it’s a somewhat empty field.
BROOKS: They’re ambitious. I’m not sure they’re skilled. Well, (a) it’s a super hard job. When Rudy Giuliani was mayor, I would travel around in the van with him and just watch him. To do New York — all the boroughs you’re handling on a day-to-day basis, such a level of economic, social, cultural, demographic diversity — it’s mind-boggling.
Then, you’re in conflict all the time. Giuliani loved the conflict. I was with him once. We were at the Metropolitan Opera, and he kicked the PLO representative out in the middle of a performance. He just loved that kind of stuff. This was before he went and became the Giuliani we know today. He was still a very rational person. But it’s so demanding.
Then you think of the hurdles you have to clear. I happen to think Mike Bloomberg was a pretty good mayor. For a businessman, billionaire, Republican, there are a lot of hurdles. I would say, in general, when I look at a lot of the mayors who are not successful — Chicago’s mayor is not doing so great, DC’s mayor. I’d say even though there are some mayors — I think LA, San Francisco, I think Atlanta — I’d say we’re in a period where the quality of our mayors is surprisingly low in a way that it didn’t used to be.
It used to be, I would think, the happiest people I know were people who left Congress and became mayors, and the most unhappy were people who left mayors and became congressmen, because you can actually get something done. But I would say, right now, cities are becoming less governable, especially in blue states. Whereas the cities I know that are doing well are blue cities in red states. The Nashvilles, the Austin, Texas, the Houston, the Dallas, Phoenix. They combine red-state tax policy with blue-city education and welfare policy. I think that that’s where all the people are flocking to, so it’s got to be working reasonably well.
COWEN: “Where is it you want to travel to next, and why?”
BROOKS: I should ask you that question because my wife and I are trying to plan something. We’re thinking of Sicily; I’ve never been to Sicily. But you’ve told me, and I’m persuaded because I’ve asked many other people that, where should I go? I’ve never been to Japan, and I would like to go somewhere. It’s always a drag when you fly a long way, and when you get out of the airport, it feels like back home. I want something that feels foreign, and I gather Japan is beautiful and different. I don’t know.
COWEN: Sicily and Japan are two of my favorite places.
BROOKS: Oh, really?
COWEN: They’re each quite manageable in terms of expense, safety, just in general. You’re not going to have any problems in either one. Sicily is this amazing mix of Norman, Arabic, Italian, North African cultures, still vitally diverse in that manner. Arguably the best food in Italy. Incredible Greek ruins. Make sure you go to Siracusa, avoid Taormina, and I even love Palermo. I think it’s fantastic as a semi-modern Italian city in the 20th, 19th-century sense. So, I would recommend that.
Japan will blow your mind and change how you think about community and social cooperation. They’re not, in a funny way, that cooperative, but they completely cooperate, and that’s the paradox. I’m still trying to think that through, and I’ll never figure it out. If you leave a bottle of water on the table and leave the restaurant, they’ll come running after you down the street, “Here’s your bottle of water back.” At the same time, they’re not that civic-minded.
The next trip my wife and I are taking is to northern Ghana, which is a kind of Sahelian culture of the Sahara. Those cultures are usually too dangerous to visit. Civil war, Russian intervention, whatever, but in Ghana it’s fine. There’re some elephants you can see there, but some very famous old mosques, awesome towns with a lot of arts in them. No one really goes to northern Ghana, so that, to me, will somehow change how I think about things. I can’t answer anything other than where we’re going, and that’s where we’re going for two weeks.
BROOKS: I will see you at the Four Seasons of northern Ghana. I publicly thank you. Tyler has something called Tyler Cowen’s Ethnic Dining Guide, especially in the DC area I guess you’re in New York, too.
COWEN: Sure, a lot.
BROOKS: A lot. There are all these shopping malls, strip mall restaurants with the best Guatemalan this, Honduran that, Tibetan that. In our courting phase, my wife and I just went down the Tyler Cowen Ethnic Food Dining Guide.
COWEN: And you invited me once.
BROOKS: You were the aphrodisiac for my marriage.
COWEN: Great. [laughs]
BROOKS: I wish I had not said that in retrospect.
[laughter]
COWEN: We had a very nice lunch today at a Korean place on 35th Street. I think it was West 55th. It won a Michelin Star in 2023, and it’s a tofu restaurant. That would be one of my recommendations.
Travel, to me, always keeps me fresh. I think also, Tokyo is probably the best food in the world, and also the best French food in the world, which is remarkable. There’s an attention to quality and detail that is just difficult to believe until you’re there, and to live with that for, say, two weeks, I think you’ll very much enjoy.
BROOKS: I’m sold.
COWEN: The flight is not that bad. You just bring a big pile of books, and you’re fine. You don’t need the smartphone or anything, just the books and your AI.
[laughter]
COWEN: What question do you wish I had asked you?
BROOKS: What’s it like to be so wonderful? No, I don’t know how to answer that question. You are the master question asker.
COWEN: Anyway, David, thank you very much. It’s been a great pleasure. Thank you, audience.
This episode was made possible through the support of the John Templeton Foundation.
Photo Credit: Vladimir Kolesnikov/Michael Priest Photography