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It was great to see legislators refuse to pass any new business subsidies in 2025. But the state is still going to pay $533.1 million more to select companies this year based on deals made two decades ago. That’s not right, and that’s not how policy is supposed to work.

It was great to see legislators refuse to pass any new business subsidies in 2025. But the state is still going to pay $533.1 million more to select companies this year based on deals made two decades ago. That’s not right, and that’s not how policy is supposed to work.

Michigan operated a selective business tax credit program via the Michigan Economic Growth Authority and made deals with companies from 1995 to 2011. Deals lasted for up to twenty years, and companies received refundable tax credits based on the number of people employed in facilities covered by the agreement. With refundable credits, companies can get cash payments from the state when they receive credits worth more than what they owe in taxes.

Indeed, the seven companies still getting MEGA credits receive large cash payments from the state. This year they are expected to collect $533.1 million more than they owe in taxes. With just two years’ worth of these credits instead being spent on more public purposes, lawmakers could more than catch up on the underfunding of the state police retirement system. These gigantic fiscal outlays are spending that goes without discussion or approval in the state budget.

That’s not how things are supposed to work. When legislators approve a budget each year, they ought to be free to determine what their priorities are rather than bound by the priorities of legislators long since out of office. 
Legislators are also not supposed to be bound by the decisions made by previous lawmakers. They are free to change whatever legislation they like.

Yes, the state should be able to make contracts and should honor its contractual obligations. Yes, legislators authorized administrators to business subsidy deals that can last twenty years. But this is a massive fiscal priority that skirts basic constitutional rules. And it’s not the only breach in basic government principles.

Lawmakers are also not supposed to make payments outside of the budget process. The state Constitution says that “no money shall be paid out of the state treasury except in pursuance of appropriations made by law.”

There is a brief section in budget bills that waives this requirement. It says that the budget authorizes money to pay refundable tax credits. The bills do not say how much is authorized or to whom, and this allows the $533.1 million to be paid to the seven companies with MEGA credits. This doesn’t sound like the way budgets are supposed to work.

It’s also not how tax policy is supposed to work. Taxes are supposed to raise revenue to operate the state government, but because of these selective refundable credits, Michigan operates a “tax” that gives some taxpayers other people’s money. The companies that receive MEGA credits are the only ones that file for the Michigan Business Tax. This year, the Michigan Business Tax is expected to pay its taxpayers $533.1 million more than they owe in taxes.

Nor are the goals of the deals something that policy ought to encourage. Lawmakers pay select businesses hundreds of millions in job retention deals. But lawmakers should not favor some companies at taxpayer expense. “The state can have no favorites, its business is to protect the industry of all, and to give all the benefit of equal laws,” as Michigan Supreme Court Justice Thomas Cooley put it.

On top of all these breaches in basic government principles, people cannot be told what each company collects from taxpayers. The state considers that confidential taxpayer information, even when the taxpayers in question collect hundreds of millions from the state. It continues to take this stand even when the state Constitution requires that all financial records and reports of public money shall be public records and open to inspection.

So laundering money through the tax system triggers an aura of privacy that prevents basic disclosures of where taxpayer money goes. Thankfully, a bill has been introduced to ensure that this information will be public.

Lawmakers inverted tax policy, skirted basic budgeting rules, refused to disclose their payments and ignored good government principles. It’s bad policy. And it continues to cost taxpayers.

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James M. Hohman is the director of fiscal policy at the Mackinac Center for Public Policy.

he death of a major cartel boss in Mexico has unleashed a violent backlash in which members of the criminal group have paralyzed some cities through blockades and attacks on property and security forces.

(THE CONVERSATION) — The death of a major cartel boss in Mexico has unleashed a violent backlash in which members of the criminal group have paralyzed some cities through blockades and attacks on property and security forces.

At least 73 people have died as a result of the operation to capture Nemesio Oseguera Cervantes, or “El Mencho.” The head of the Jalisco New Generation Cartel was seriously wounded during a firefight with authorities on Feb. 22, 2026. He later died in custody.

As an expert in criminal groups and drug trafficking in Latin America who has been studying Mexico’s cartels for two decades, I see the violent aftermath of the operation as part of a pattern in which Mexican governments have opted for high-profile hits that often lead only to more violence without addressing the broader security problems that plague huge swaths of the country.

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Who was ‘El Mencho’?

Like many other figures involved in Mexico’s drug trafficking, Oseguera Cervantes started at the bottom and made his way up the ranks. He spent some time in prison in the U.S., where he may have forged alliances with criminal gangs before being deported back to Mexico in 1997. There, he connected with the Milenio Cartel, an organization that first allied, and then fought with, the powerful Sinaloa Cartel.

Most of the information available points to the Jalisco New Generation Cartel forming under El Mencho around 2010, following the killing of Ignacio “Nacho” Coronel Villarreal, a Sinaloa Cartel leader and main link with the Milenio Cartel.

Since 2015, Jalisco New Generation Cartel has been known for its blatant attacks against security forces in Mexico – such as gunning down a helicopter in that year. And it has expanded its presence both across Mexico and internationally.

In Mexico, it is said to have a presence in all states. In some, the cartel has a direct presence and very strong local networks. In others, it has cultivated alliances with other trafficking organizations.

Besides drug trafficking, the Jalisco New Generation Cartel is also engaged in oil theft, people smuggling and extortion. As a result, it has become one of the most powerful cartels in Mexico.

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What impact will his death have on the cartel?

There are a few potential scenarios, and a lot will depend on what succession plans Jalisco New Generation had in the event of Oseguera Cervantes’ capture or killing.

In general, these types of operations – in which security forces take out a cartel leader – lead to more violence, for a variety of reasons.

Mexicans have already experienced the immediate aftermath of Oseguera Cervantes’ death: retaliation attacks, blockades and official attempts to prevent civilians from going out. This is similar to what occurred after the capture of drug lord Ovidio Guzmán López in Sinaloa in 2019 and his second capture in 2023.

Violence flares in two ways following such high-profile captures and killings of cartel leaders.

In the short term, there is retaliation. At the moment, members of the Jalisco New Generation Cartel are seeking revenge against Mexico’s security forces and are also trying to assert their regional authority despite El Mencho’s death.

These retaliatory campaigns tend to be violent and flashy. They include blockades as well as attacks against security forces and civilians.

Then there is the longer-term violence associated with any succession. This can take the form of those who are below Oseguera Cervantes in rank fighting for control. But it can also result from rival groups trying to take advantage of any leadership vacuum.

The level and duration of violence depend on a few factors, such as whether there was a succession plan and what kind of alliances are in place with other cartels. But generally, operations in which a cartel boss is removed lead to more violence and fragmentation of criminal groups.

Of course, people like Oseguera Cervantes who have violated laws and engaged in violence need to be captured. But in the long run, that doesn’t do anything to dismantle networks of criminality or reduce the size of their operations.

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What is the current state of security in Mexico?

The upsurge in violence after Oseguera Cervantes’ killing occurs as some indicators in Mexico’s security situation seemed to be improving.

For example, homicide rates declined in 2025 – which is an important indicator of security.

But other measures are appalling. Disappearances are still unsettlingly high. The reality that many Mexicans experience on the ground is one where criminal organizations remain powerful and embedded in the local ecosystems that connect state agents, politicians and criminals in complex networks.

Criminal organizations are engaged in what we academics call “criminal governance.” They engage in a wide range of activities and regulate life in communities – sometimes coercively, but sometimes also with some degree of legitimacy from the population.

In some states like Sinaloa, despite the operations to take out cartel’s leaders, the illicit economies are still extensive and profitable. But what’s more important is that levels of violence remain high and the population is still suffering deeply.

The day-to-day reality for people in some of these regions is still one of fear.

And in the greater scheme of things, criminal networks are still very powerful – they are embedded in the country’s economy and politics, and connect to communities in complex ways.

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How does the El Mencho operation fit Mexico’s strategy on cartels?

The past two governments vowed to reduce the militarization of security forces. But the power of the military in Mexico has actually expanded.

The government of President Claudia Sheinbaum wanted a big, visible hit at a time when the U.S. is pushing for more militarized policies to counter Mexico’s trafficking organizations.

But this dynamic is not new. Most U.S. and Mexican policy regarding drug trafficking organizations has historically emphasized these high-profile captures – even if it is just for short-term gains.

It’s easier to say “we captured a drug lord” than address broader issues of corruption or impunity. Most of the time when these cartel leaders are captured or killed, there is generally no broader justice. It isn’t accompanied with authorities investigating disappearances, murders, corruption or even necessarily halting the flow of drugs.

Captures and killings of cartel leaders serve a strategic purpose of showing that something is being done, but the effectiveness of such policies in the long run is very limited.

Of course, taking out a drug lord is not a bad thing. But if it does not come with a broader dismantling of criminal networks and an accompanying focus on justice, then the main crimes that these groups commit – homicides, disappearances and extortion – will continue to affect the daily life of people. And the effect on illicit flows is, at best, meager.

Public debate about artificial intelligence in higher education has largely orbited a familiar worry: cheating. Will students use chatbots to write essays? Can instructors tell? Should universities ban the tech? Embrace it?

(THE CONVERSATION) — Public debate about artificial intelligence in higher education has largely orbited a familiar worry: cheating. Will students use chatbots to write essays? Can instructors tell? Should universities ban the tech? Embrace it?

These concerns are understandable. But focusing so much on cheating misses the larger transformation already underway, one that extends far beyond student misconduct and even the classroom.

Universities are adopting AI across many areas of institutional life. Some uses are largely invisible, like systems that help allocate resources, flag “at-risk” students, optimize course scheduling or automate routine administrative decisions. Other uses are more noticeable. Students use AI tools to summarize and study, instructors use them to build assignments and syllabuses and researchers use them to write code, scan literature and compress hours of tedious work into minutes.

People may use AI to cheat or skip out on work assignments. But the many uses of AI in higher education, and the changes they portend, beg a much deeper question: As machines become more capable of doing the labor of research and learning, what happens to higher education? What purpose does the university serve?

Over the past eight years, we’ve been studying the moral implications of pervasive engagement with AI as part of a joint research project between the Applied Ethics Center at UMass Boston and the Institute for Ethics and Emerging Technologies. In a recent white paper, we argue that as AI systems become more autonomous, the ethical stakes of AI use in higher ed rise, as do its potential consequences.

As these technologies become better at producing knowledge work – designing classes, writing papers, suggesting experiments and summarizing difficult texts – they don’t just make universities more productive. They risk hollowing out the ecosystem of learning and mentorship upon which these institutions are built, and on which they depend.

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Nonautonomous AI

Consider three kinds of AI systems and their respective impacts on university life:

AI-powered software is already being used throughout higher education in admissions review, purchasing, academic advising and institutional risk assessment. These are considered “nonautonomous” systems because they automate tasks, but a person is “in the loop” and using these systems as tools.

These technologies can pose a risk to students’ privacy and data security. They also can be biased. And they often lack sufficient transparency to determine the sources of these problems. Who has access to student data? How are “risk scores” generated? How do we prevent systems from reproducing inequities or treating certain students as problems to be managed?

These questions are serious, but they are not conceptually new, at least within the field of computer science. Universities typically have compliance offices, institutional review boards and governance mechanisms that are designed to help address or mitigate these risks, even if they sometimes fall short of these objectives.

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Hybrid AI

Hybrid systems encompass a range of tools, including AI-assisted tutoring chatbots, personalized feedback tools and automated writing support. They often rely on generative AI technologies, especially large language models. While human users set the overall goals, the intermediate steps the system takes to meet them are often not specified.

Hybrid systems are increasingly shaping day-to-day academic work. Students use them as writing companions, tutors, brainstorming partners and on-demand explainers. Faculty use them to generate rubrics, draft lectures and design syllabuses. Researchers use them to summarize papers, comment on drafts, design experiments and generate code.

This is where the “cheating” conversation belongs. With students and faculty alike increasingly leaning on technology for help, it is reasonable to wonder what kinds of learning might get lost along the way. But hybrid systems also raise more complex ethical questions.

One has to do with transparency. AI chatbots offer natural-language interfaces that make it hard to tell when you’re interacting with a human and when you’re interacting with an automated agent. That can be alienating and distracting for those who interact with them. A student reviewing material for a test should be able to tell if they are talking with their teaching assistant or with a robot. A student reading feedback on a term paper needs to know whether it was written by their instructor. Anything less than complete transparency in such cases will be alienating to everyone involved and will shift the focus of academic interactions from learning to the means or the technology of learning. University of Pittsburgh researchers have shown that these dynamics bring forth feelings of uncertainty, anxiety and distrust for students. These are problematic outcomes.

A second ethical question relates to accountability and intellectual credit. If an instructor uses AI to draft an assignment and a student uses AI to draft a response, who is doing the evaluating, and what exactly is being evaluated? If feedback is partly machine-generated, who is responsible when it misleads, discourages or embeds hidden assumptions? And when 

AI contributes substantially to research synthesis or writing, ­universities will need clearer norms around authorship and responsibility – not only for students, but also for faculty.

Finally, there is the critical question of cognitive offloading. AI can reduce drudgery, and that’s not inherently bad. But it can also shift users away from the parts of learning that build competence, such as generating ideas, struggling through confusion, revising a clumsy draft and learning to spot one’s own mistakes.

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Autonomous agents

The most consequential changes may come with systems that look less like assistants and more like agents. While truly autonomous technologies remain aspirational, the dream of a researcher “in a box” – an agentic AI system that can perform studies on its own – is becoming increasingly realistic.

Agentic tools are anticipated to “free up time” for work that focuses on more human capacities like empathy and problem-solving. In teaching, this may mean that faculty may still teach in the headline sense, but more of the day-to-day labor of instruction can be handed off to systems optimized for efficiency and scale. Similarly, in research, the trajectory points toward systems that can increasingly automate the research cycle. In some domains, that already looks like robotic laboratories that run continuously, automate large portions of experimentation and even select new tests based on prior results.

At first glance, this may sound like a welcome boost to productivity. But universities are not information factories; they are systems of practice. They rely on a pipeline of graduate students and early-career academics who learn to teach and research by participating in that same work. If autonomous agents absorb more of the “routine” responsibilities that historically served as on-ramps into academic life, the university may keep producing courses and publications while quietly thinning the opportunity structures that sustain expertise over time.

The same dynamic applies to undergraduates, albeit in a different register. When AI systems can supply explanations, drafts, solutions and study plans on demand, the temptation is to offload the most challenging parts of learning. To the industry that is pushing AI into universities, it may seem as if this type of work is “inefficient” and that students will be better off letting a machine handle it. But it is the very nature of that struggle that builds durable understanding. Cognitive psychology has shown that students grow intellectually through doing the work of drafting, revising, failing, trying again, grappling with confusion and revising weak arguments. This is the work of learning how to learn.

Taken together, these developments suggest that the greatest risk posed by automation in higher education is not simply the replacement of particular tasks by machines, but the erosion of the broader ecosystem of practice that has long sustained teaching, research and learning.

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An uncomfortable inflection point

So what purpose do universities serve in a world in which knowledge work is increasingly automated?

One possible answer treats the university primarily as an engine for producing credentials and knowledge. There, the core question is output: Are students graduating with degrees? Are papers and discoveries being generated? If autonomous systems can deliver those outputs more efficiently, then the institution has every reason to adopt them.

But another answer treats the university as something more than an output machine, acknowledging that the value of higher education lies partly in the ecosystem itself. This model assigns intrinsic value to the pipeline of opportunities through which novices become experts, the mentorship structures through which judgment and responsibility are cultivated, and the educational design that encourages productive struggle rather than optimizing it away. Here, what matters is not only whether knowledge and degrees are produced, but how they are produced and what kinds of people, capacities and communities are formed in the process. In this version, the university is meant to serve as no less than an ecosystem that reliably forms human expertise and judgment.

In a world where knowledge work itself is increasingly automated, we think universities must ask what higher education owes its students, its early-career scholars and the society it serves. The answers will determine not only how AI is adopted, but also what the modern university becomes.

President Donald Trump in his State of the Union address on Feb. 24, 2026, doubled down on his false claims that the U.S. elections system is compromised. He asserted that “the cheating is rampant in our elections. It’s rampant.”

By Shelley Inglis
Rutgers University

(THE CONVERSATION) — President Donald Trump in his State of the Union address on Feb. 24, 2026, doubled down on his false claims that the U.S. elections system is compromised. He asserted that “the cheating is rampant in our elections. It’s rampant.”

These pronouncements follow the January 2026 FBI seizure of 2020 ballots from Fulton County, Georgia, and the president’s recent call for the Republican Party to nationalize elections. The Trump administration is also suing 24 states and Washington, D.C., for voter lists to monitor voter registrations.

In his speech, Trump asked Republicans to pass the SAVE America Act. Approved by the House on Feb. 11, 2026, the measure would require that voters provide documentary proof of U.S. citizenship, effectively ending all online voter registration. “They want to cheat. They have cheated,” he said of Democrats.

These calls spread distrust in the U.S. electoral process, despite extensive evidence showing that voter fraud is rare, especially by noncitizens.

All this has led to speculation about how much further the Trump administration and Republican Party might go to tilt the 2026 midterm and 2028 presidential elections in their favor.

After decades of working internationally on democracy and peace-building, I know that efforts to undermine elections are not uncommon. Citizens of many affected countries have learned various techniques to help protect the integrity of their elections and democracy that may be helpful to Americans today.

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International electoral assistance

Leaders, even in established democracies such as India, have used increasingly sophisticated and wide-ranging means to manipulate elections in their favor. Those means vary from legal changes that suppress votes to harassment and prosecution of the opposition, to promoting widespread disinformation campaigns.

These methods have evolved despite international efforts to counter rigged elections and improve election integrity. These countering efforts are called electoral assistance, and they support societies to develop electoral systems that reflect the will of the people and adhere to democratic principles.

Electoral assistance has been shown to strengthen transparency and election administration in countries such as Armenia and Mexico. It has also improved voter registration and education in countries such as Ghana and Colombia.

It’s mostly provided by international nonprofits, such as the National Democratic Institute and The Carter Center in the U.S. Multilateral organizations such as the United Nations also provide electoral assistance.

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Five international responses to electoral manipulation

Here are five areas of electoral assistance that have shown some success internationally.

Early warning and community resilience: Early warning efforts track threats of violence and intimidation against election officials, candidates and voters. They seek to mitigate risks and prepare for crises. This happens from the early stages of an election through election day in countries such as Sri Lanka and Liberia.

Law enforcement, civic groups and election officials usually undertake these efforts together. But where such direct cooperation with government authorities is not feasible, civic groups can help by undertaking risk assessments and tracking coercion and threats. They can also raise alarms with officials and the media.

Indicators, or established metrics, can track sophisticated coercion tactics such as the misuse of government funds for campaign purposes. They also can track vote buying, like civic groups in North Macedonia did during 2024 
parliamentary and 2025 local elections.

For these efforts to be successful, it’s critical that networks of trusted leaders urge early action to put in place greater safeguards long before election day. Raising alarms and urging action was done successfully by religious leaders in Kenya during general elections in 2022.

Real-time disinformation and local media reaction: Real-time fact-checking and debunking of false or manipulative information has proven critical to election integrity in countries such as Mexico and South Africa.

A highly organized and fast-moving approach involving media, technology companies and authorities successfully countered disinformation to ensure a competitive democratic election in Brazil in 2022. A coalition of Brazilian media outlets, for example, fact-checked political claims and viral rumors during the election period, using innovative tools such as online apps.

Robust local media play a particularly important role. In the 2024 presidential election of Maia Sandu in Moldova, a new investigative newspaper uncovered a Russia-backed network that paid people to attend anti-Sandu rallies and to vote against the president. That outlet had received training by an expert nonprofit group. It also received free legal advice and human resource management that were critical to its effectiveness.

Neutrality, transparency and systems reform: Amid efforts to sow doubt in elections, increasing transparency and ethical standards can help build awareness and deepen trust.

Various tools, such as codes of conduct that detail ethical standards, can be formulated for candidates, media and businesses. This has been done in Nigeria and the Philippines.

International groups, including the International Foundation for Electoral Systems, published model commitments for advancing genuine and credible elections in 2024, which have been used for preelection assessments in Bangladesh.

Additionally, major technology companies such as Google and Meta in 2024 helped draft the international Voluntary Election Guidelines for Technology Companies. Meta also helped target false content and deepfakes during Australia’s 2025 election.

The neutrality of election officials is critical to tackle distrust. In New Zealand, high levels of public trust in elections align with robust neutrality rules for public officials. The key is to develop public awareness of such commitments and how they can be useful to hold election officials, media and businesses accountable.

More profoundly, the design of the electoral system can also be linked to levels of public trust and polarization. New Zealand, South Africa and Northern Ireland, for example, reformed from winner-take-all elections to proportional representation elections to address deep internal divisions and dissatisfaction with unrepresentative results.

Broad-based mobilization and civic campaigns: Significant voter turnout that delivers large winning margins make efforts to manipulate results more difficult.

In Zambia, for example, a landslide victory for the opposition candidate in the 2021 presidential elections was driven by high youth turnout and people switching parties in urban areas.

Mobilization efforts can span from public campaigns to digital tools and voter registration and education. These efforts can motivate key groups, such as youth, minority or overseas voters. Participation of diaspora groups in Poland’s 2023 parliamentary elections was a key factor in the opposition’s win.

Proactively building public awareness of election security measures, called prebunking campaigns, has demonstrated results in increasing trust in elections in Brazil and the U.S. Additionally, civic education has shown to have positive impact on voter choice of pro-democracy candidates over their preferred party.

Strategic coalitions and nonpartisan monitoring: Nonpartisan monitoring and observation of an electoral process is a key tool in the electoral assistance tool kit. Effective monitoring often involves coalitions of nonpartisan civic groups, which Senegal has used, and faith-based organizations, as in the Philippines, to ensure adequate coverage of polling stations and consistent application of standards.

Key tools, such as parallel vote tabulation, or “quick counts,” which provide independent and statistically accurate reports on the quality of voting and counting process, have helped verify official election results in Ukraine, Ghana and Paraguay.

International observation by entities such as the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe assesses whether elections meet global standards. Where it identifies serious flaws or fraud, such scrutiny can help justify mass protests or mobilization, such as in Serbia’s parliamentary and local elections in 2023, trigger new elections, such as in Bolivia’s general elections in 2019, or support international condemnation, such as in Georgia’s 2024 parliamentary elections. They also make recommendations on reforms, such as changes to elections laws and systems, to strengthen integrity and align with democratic principles.

Representational government rests on a simple idea: that the laws the nation lives under generally reflect what the public wants. In the United States, few issues test that idea more than abortion.

(THE CONVERSATION) — Representational government rests on a simple idea: that the laws the nation lives under generally reflect what the public wants. In the United States, few issues test that idea more than abortion.

In 2022, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled in Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization that the Constitution does not guarantee a right to an abortion. The decision effectively overturned nearly 50 years of federally protected access to the procedure and returned primary authority over abortion policy to states.

Individual states now have the authority to enact permissive or restrictive abortion laws. These vary substantially, from near-total bans on the procedure – such as in Florida or Texas, where abortion is banned except in very limited circumstances – to guarantees of abortion access that are enshrined in state constitutions, including in California and Vermont.

Abortion serves as a clear example of how difficult it can be to translate public opinion into law. It is an issue where public views have remained relatively consistent over time, with the majority of the public supporting abortion rights according to polls. Still, laws have shifted dramatically from state to state and year to year.

As a researcher who studies the relationship between public opinion and state-level policy, I examine whether laws reflect the preferences of the American public. The dichotomy between abortion protections and restrictions suggests that this dynamic is often more complicated than many people might assume.

State legislatures, courts and election methods – and the interplay between them – all influence how public preferences are translated into law. Additionally, lobbying by well-connected interest groups that may represent a minority viewpoint can exert significant pressure on lawmakers, sometimes outweighing the desires of the broader public.

As a result, there is not always a direct line between what a majority of voters might want and the policies that are enacted.

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Where public opinion stands

Despite these broad policy differences, public opinion has remained relatively stable around the abortion issue since the 1970s. Sixty-three percent of Americans say abortion should be legal in all or most cases, compared with 36% who say it should be illegal in all or most cases, according to the Pew Research Center. In 34 states and the District of Columbia, more people say abortion should be legal than say it should be illegal.

Even in states with restrictive policies, opinion is often closely divided. In Utah, where abortion is banned after 18 weeks of pregnancy, public opinion is split nearly down the middle.

Support for abortion does vary by religion, age, education level, political views and gender. Eighty-six percent of religiously unaffiliated Americans say abortion should be legal in all or most cases, compared with 25% of white evangelical Protestants, for example.

Similar divides appear across other partisan or demographic groups. About 85% of those who lean Democratic say abortion should be legal in most cases, according to Pew, compared with about 41% of those who lean Republican. 
Differences also emerge by education, with college graduates more likely to support legal abortion than those without a college degree. More women than men support abortion access, although the difference is relatively minor – 64% of women, 61% of men.

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Abortion on the ballot

In response to the 2022 Dobbs decision, voters in multiple states turned to ballot initiatives, mostly to restore or affirm abortion rights. In 2024, voters in 10 states decided on abortion-related measures. Seven states passed measures to protect abortion rights: Arizona, Colorado, Maryland, Missouri, Montana, Nevada and New York. Measures to enact protections failed in Florida, Nebraska and South Dakota.

Ballot initiatives are one of the few ways Americans can directly shape policy, though the rules for their passage vary by state. Citizen-generated initiatives are only available in about half the states.

In states such as Arizona and California, simple majorities were able to approve their 2024 measures affirming abortion protections. That same year, 57% of Florida voters supported a similar measure to protect abortion access up to 24 weeks of pregnancy, but that did not meet the state’s 60% threshold for passage of initiatives.

Even in states where ballot initiatives have passed, translating voter preferences into policy is not always a straight line. In Missouri, for example, the state Supreme Court in May 2025 allowed preexisting restrictions to remain in effect while legal challenges to a 2024 abortion rights amendment continued. Because that amendment remains part of the state constitution, legislators have placed a new measure on the November 2026 ballot specifically to repeal those protections and reinstate a nearly total ban.

Seen in this context, the abortion issue represents not only a debate about access. It also offers a clear example of how representation works in practice.

The relationship between public opinion and policy is not always direct or immediate, but is shaped by the institutions and processes that define American democracy.

(THE CONVERSATION) — In 2024, spending on federal elections totaled almost US$15 billion in the United States. The United Kingdom, in contrast, spent approximately $129 million on its 2024 parliamentary elections – less than 1% of 2024 U.S. spending – despite having a population one-fifth the size of the U.S.

By John J. Martin
Quinnipiac University

(THE CONVERSATION) — In 2024, spending on federal elections totaled almost US$15 billion in the United States. The United Kingdom, in contrast, spent approximately $129 million on its 2024 parliamentary elections – less than 1% of 2024 U.S. spending – despite having a population one-fifth the size of the U.S.

Indeed, most other democratic countries spend only a fraction of what the U.S. does on their respective elections.

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Why do U.S. elections cost so much?

Many people may attribute the blame to Citizens United v. FEC, the 2010 U.S. Supreme Court case that struck down corporate spending limits in elections.

Yet the source runs much deeper, to a case that marked its 50th anniversary in early 2026: Buckley v. Valeo, a landmark case that established the modern framework for U.S. campaign finance regulation.

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Big money’s political influence

For most of U.S. history, political spending was an unregulated practice. In turn, big-moneyed interests wielded major influence over elections without any legal impediments.

In the early 20th century, however, Congress began implementing small measures to rein in unfettered campaign finance. In 1907, for instance, Congress passed the Tillman Act, which banned corporations from donating directly to candidates. By 1971, Congress had implemented the modern Federal Election Campaign Act, or FECA, which initially just included disclosure and disclaimer requirements for candidates.

Nevertheless, following the Water­gate scandal – which included bags of cash and campaign dirty tricks – Congress enacted the more comprehensive 1974 FECA Amend­ments to more effectively restrain big money in American politics.

The FECA Amendments instituted, among other things, dollar limits on the amount of money individuals and political committees could contribute to federal candidates. Similarly, it limited the amount of money individuals could independently expend to support the election or defeat of a federal candidate.

Almost immediately, a number of politicians and other parties filed suit – including U.S. Sen. James Buckley, a New York conservative; former U.S. senator and 1968 presidential candidate Eugene McCarthy, a Minnesota Democrat; and the New York Civil Liberties Union – to challenge the amendments’ constitutionality.

They argued that the new laws restricted First Amendment freedoms of political speech and expression. Their argument was straightforward: If I can’t spend as much as I want to support a candidate, I am unable to fully express my 
political views. The lawsuit ultimately ended up before the U.S. Supreme Court.

On Jan. 30, 1976, the Supreme Court issued its opinion. One of the lengthiest in U.S. history – 294 pages in total – the opinion took an axe to the FECA and effectively reduced federal campaign finance law to a patchwork of laws and rules 
resembling regulatory Swiss cheese.

In doing so, the court laid the groundwork for the development of the modern campaign finance system in the U.S.

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Money is speech

What did Buckley v. Valeo do?

For one, the court declared that limits on political contributions and expenditures, in fact, affect First Amendment interests. The court found limits on contributions to indirectly impact donors’ right of expression, the idea being that a contribution to a candidate acts as an expression of support for them.

Contribution limits can furthermore directly infringe on candidates’ speech rights if they are so low as to prevent the candidate from effectively campaigning, the court decided.

The court, meanwhile, found limits on political expenditures, such as spending money on a TV ad, to impose an even more direct constraint on speech rights. In the court’s words, such limits reduce “the quantity of expression by restricting the number of issues discussed, the depth of their exploration, and the size of the audience reached.” With this, the court embraced what its critics have dubbed the “money is speech” principle.

So whenever a law constrains political speech, the government must justify it via a “compelling” state interest. Thus came the court’s second major move via the Buckley decision: narrowly defining the government’s interest in regulating money in politics.

Specifically, the court recognized only one compelling state interest in restricting political spending: preventing quid pro quo corruption – the exchange of money for political favors. With this, the court outright rejected that the government had a serious, broader interest in promoting political equality, one of the driving forces behind the passage of the 1974 FECA Amendments.

Applying this framework, the court upheld federal limits on contributions to candidates because directly giving money to politicians carries a risk of quid pro quo.

In contrast, the court invalidated FECA’s limits on independently made political expenditures – expenditures made on a candidate’s behalf but not in coordination with the candidate. In the court’s view, if somebody spends money to support a candidate without coordinating with that candidate, no corruption concern exists – an assumption that remains widely disputed. Thus, Congress had no compelling interest to limit political advocacy via expenditures.

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Unlimited sums

While a product of 1970s lawmaking, the Buckley decision has played a major role in shaping modern U.S. politics. Its impact on how lawmakers can – and cannot – regulate money in politics endures today.

The most pronounced effect of Buckley has been the proliferation of spending by outside groups making those independent expenditures.

Buckley’s invalidation of independent-expenditure limits applied only to limits on individuals. But the Supreme Court has since extended Buckley’s logic to spending by organizations. In Citizens United in 2010, the court held that the government had no compelling interest in limiting independent expenditures made by entities such as corporations, unions or political action committees – PACs – that do not coordinate with candidates, known today as super PACs.

Shortly following the Citizens United decision, a federal appellate court applied Citizens United to strike down limits on contributions to super PACs, the idea being they could not engage in corruption if they were not coordinating with candidates.

Donors were now free to give unlimited sums of money to super PACs, which were free to spend unlimited sums of money to influence elections. Each passing election since then has seen untold super PAC spending, peaking at over $2.6 billion in 2024.

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Enter dark money

Super PACs are only one part of the modern political landscape, though.

Following Citizens United, donors realized that if they were to donate money to a super PAC, federal law would mandate the disclosure of that donation. Yet, federal law contained a loophole: shell companies – companies formed purely to preserve the anonymity of their makers – and 501(c)(4) nonprofits could donate money to super PACs without having to disclose who their money came from. Collectively, these became known as “dark money” groups.

Wealthy donors thus started giving money to these dark money groups as a vehicle to fund super PACs without detection. These groups have become a major force in election spending, accounting for an estimated $1.9 billion in 2024.

The Buckley decision has also led to the proliferation of self-funded candidates. The Supreme Court held that the government cannot limit self-funding because the risk of quid pro quo is nonexistent – again, a disputed assumption.

U.S. campaigns now feature multimillionaires and billionaires propelling themselves into electoral contention each election cycle simply by virtue of having a well-funded bank account. In 2024, 65 federal candidates spent at least $1 million of their own dollars on their campaign.

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Small limits, big spending

One area that still remains open to regulation post-Buckley is contributions to candidates, political parties or PACs.

Thus, contribution limits exist federally and in most states in some form.

Still, the government’s authority to cap contributions is not infinite. The Supreme Court has occasionally struck down certain states’ limits when they are deemed “too low.”

The court, moreover, invalidated in 2014 an aggregate limit on the amount a donor could contribute overall to candidates per election, reasoning that Buckley’s anti-corruption rationale could apply only to direct, one-to-one exchanges. 
Wealthy donors were thus free to donate to hundreds of candidates in an election cycle.

In 2025, the court heard a challenge to a federal law limiting how much political parties can spend in coordination with their nominees. Intended to prevent individuals from using parties as a means of circumventing individual-to-candidate contribution limits, the law has been on shaky ground for decades.

The court will issue a ruling on that challenge in the coming months. Whether the law is upheld or struck down, Buckley is guaranteed to play a major role in the decision.