Keen On America

In 1776 — that same year America declared its independence — Adam Smith published the equally revolutionary The Wealth of Nations, his founding explanation of national economic value. Two hundred and fifty years later, Tim O’Reilly argues in the free-market Economist that Elon Musk and his fellow tech barons are building a monarchical form of capitalism that the proto-democratic Smith would have hated. Musk, O’Reilly reports, believes that SpaceX will become “worth more than the rest of Earth”. The merchants are becoming princes, O’Reilly warns. And the rest of us are becoming peasants. Such is the road to serfdom in our AI age.
 
So who should own the AI in our bewildering age of multi-trillion dollar start-ups like SpaceX, Anthropic and OpenAI? Or as That Was The Week publisher Keith Teare asks in his latest editorial, who should own the “intelligence” of our AI age?
 
Keith uses a bottling plant as a metaphor to describe our dilemma. Since no single entity can own this intelligence — the sum total of our common experience — charging us for it would be like seizing the Earth’s water supply and selling it back to us, Coca-Cola style, in plastic bottles. Except that the Hayekian Keith approves of the bottling process. Private companies, rather than governments, he argues, are most suited to doing this.
 
For Keith, this dilemma is also an opportunity to redistribute the ownership of intelligence. He argues for a “Human Wealth Fund” into which every consequential AI company should put a slice of its equity. In the manner of Norway’s sovereign wealth fund, this fund would be distributed to all citizens.
 
Rather than Denmark, now we should become like Norway, a tiny homogenous nation with a cultural distaste for Muskian individual wealth. Not very realistic, I fear. On top of that, it’s hard to imagine our tech princes collaborating on anything. Musk and Altman aren’t on speaking terms while Altman and Amodei, who also loathe each other, are focused on their IPOs. Meanwhile, the Trump administration, which presumably would coordinate this fund, is pitching a $100,000-a-month fast feed of the president’s posts.
 
Keith’s question, “who owns the intelligence”, is the right one. But the answer won’t come from trickle-down funds set-up by our tech princes. Such supposed munificence is about as likely as America becoming Norway. Read the fine print of any “Human Wealth Fund” set up by Sam Altman and Elon Musk. As we should know all too well by now, when a “revolutionary” Silicon Valley gives stuff away, it turns out to be exorbitantly expensive. Free plastic bottles of intelligence, anyone?
 
Five Takeaways
 
•       Intelligence, Not AI. The week’s framing shift: the word AI is too small, because AI is merely the tool for harvesting and delivering the thing itself — intelligence, the sum total of our common human experience. Keith argues the renaming is not semantic but political: the moment intelligence sits at the center of the discussion, everyone’s opinion has to be shaped by what it actually is, and the idea that any single entity could own it starts to look as bizarre as owning the world’s water supply. Andrew’s rejoinder: they’re still just words — though he concedes intelligence is the better one.
 
•       Bottled Intelligence Is Good — The Question Is Who Benefits. Keith refuses the critic’s role: bottling intelligence, like Google’s bottling of the world’s words into search, is a good thing, because only massively capitalized private companies can innovate at that scale — and between private entities and governments as owners of intelligence, he’ll take the companies every time. What’s wrong is the distribution of the benefits. Even insiders are complaining: Alex Karp is publicly angry at OpenAI and Anthropic’s pricing, while China’s Kimi K3 — released the day of recording and, Keith claims, better than Claude Fable — signals that very good models are about to get very cheap.
 
•       Capitalism Adam Smith Would Hate. Tim O’Reilly argues in The Economist that Musk and his type are building a capitalism Smith would despise — founders as monarchs, a point Henry Farrell reinforces with a slide from Peter Thiel’s startup class placing the king of a monarchy and the founder of a startup side by side. Keith’s response is characteristically unsentimental: Smith would have hated everything since the Federal Reserve, and the founder-king structure — Larry and Sergey’s voting shares, Zuckerberg’s special rights, corporations bigger than countries with user bases bigger than China — is simply the stage of capitalism we’re at. The question is whether there’s a path from here to somewhere better.
 
•       The Human Wealth Fund. Keith’s path comes in two versions: government-down, a sovereign wealth fund holding AI equity for every citizen; or company-up, the AI companies voluntarily endowing a global fund — and it only takes one to move first, because everyone else would have to react. His proxy is Norway, where every citizen benefits from ownership — not payouts, ownership — in the oil fund; AI revenues, unlike Norwegian oil, could eventually drive most of a doubled global GDP. His critique of the Brynjolfsson economists’ much-signed statement is that “must act now” is vacuous: he’d have added a point four naming the actual mechanism.
 
•       The Bet. Andrew’s counter-case: Musk and Altman loathe each other, the mob hates AI so thoroughly that no pro-AI politician can survive, the states from Newsom’s California to Florida are embracing nothing, New York just enacted the first data center moratorium, and the founders — eyes on their IPOs — are in the pockets of the banks. Hence the wager: 5% of the Teare Wealth Fund says no Human Wealth Fund this year, and none in the twenties. Keith declined the bet, on principle: he’s an advocate, and only through advocacy does public opinion change. As Andrew put it: keep fighting the good fight — maybe one of the crazy ideas will stick.
 
About the Guest
 
Keith Teare is the founder and editor of the That Was The Week tech newsletter, and Andrew’s weekly co-host. A British-born Silicon Valley entrepreneur and investor, he was a co-founder of TechCrunch and runs the Palo Alto–based venture firm SignalRank. He and Andrew have been arguing about technology — productively — every week for years.
 
References:
 
•       That Was The Week — Keith’s newsletter; this week’s editorial argues that the word AI is too small, and that the central question of the age is who owns intelligence.
 
•       Tim O’Reilly in The Economist — on Elon Musk building a form of capitalism that Adam Smith would hate, quoting Musk’s claim that SpaceX will become worth more than the rest of the Earth.
 
•       Henry Farrell — the big tech critic’s companion piece, featuring the slide from Peter Thiel’s startup class that plac...

“We have a Justice Department which is now 100% the political pawn of the president,” warns Brookings senior fellow Jonathan Rauch. “He points, and they shoot.”
 
Point and shoot. Like an old Kodak camera. Not exactly assuring words, you might think, from a man who begins our conversation looking back at the first six months of 2026 by announcing that he’s significantly less alarmed than he was a year ago. Yes, Rauch acknowledges, Trump’s approval ratings have sunk, the courts have pushed back, Elon Musk’s DOGE rampage has petered out. And yet the pointing and the shooting goes on.
 
Rauch, who only months ago diagnosed eighteen “distinct and unmistakable signs” of an American fascism in a much touted Atlantic piece, now admits he may never crack the Trumpian code. Every time you nail it to the wall, he says, it morphs, creeps or sails away. Like an Iranian gunboat in Hormuz. Slippery stuff for the liberal Brookings analyst. Fascism one month, McKinley-style imperialism the next, then Gilded Age plutocracy — although without those ontologically undeniable Carnegie libraries. Meanwhile, America’s 250th birthday party fizzled into what Rauch calls a “damp squib,” its reflecting pool turning an opaque green rather than a clarifying blue. A muddy madness in DC.
 
Still, amidst all the opacity, Rauch remains a defiantly optimistic liberal. In contrast with yesterday’s guest, the reality hallucinating Turi Munthe, Rauch believes not only that there is an ontological reality, but that it’s good. Frank Fukuyama was right, Rauch insists. Liberalism is not only the only political system that creates wealth, produces knowledge and settles disputes, but also establishes an undeniable reality. Liberals just need to relearn how to clearly tell its story. Perhaps. Though storytelling is certainly simpler when nobody is waving a gun at you.
 
Five Takeaways
 
•       Less Alarmed, Still Scared. Rauch opens with the good news: he is significantly less alarmed than he was a year ago, when the administration was running rampage, putting agencies out of business and demanding Greenland. Approval ratings have dropped, so Trump has less political space; the courts have pushed back, so he has less judicial space; Stephen Miller has vanished from view. And then comes the caveat that gives the episode its title: the Justice Department is now 100% the political pawn of the president — he points, and they shoot — and Trump has shown that as his ratings fall, he becomes more willing, not less, to use those tools.
 
•       I May Never Crack the Code. Only months ago, Rauch diagnosed eighteen distinct and unmistakable signs of a modern American reinvention of fascism in The Atlantic. He doesn’t regret the essay — but he has gone back to being confused. The Trump phenomenon is slippery: every time you nail it to the wall, it morphs, creeps or slides away. Fascism one month, McKinley-style imperialism in Venezuela the next, an Iran war with no rationale at all. Trump is such an improviser, and so disorganized, that Rauch concedes there is an element of randomness he may never decode — though he accepts Andrew’s suggestion that attention is now the coin of the political realm.
 
•       Not the Gilded Age — No Carnegie Libraries. The new inequality, Rauch argues, is different in kind: a class of people almost superhuman in the wealth they control, and strangely narcissistic and nihilistic toward the broader society. The Gilded Age tycoons did some bad things, but they also built — Carnegie’s libraries, Mellon’s National Gallery, Rockefeller’s University of Chicago, Stanford’s university. This group builds rockets and sounds, in the case of Marc Andreessen, like a parody of an Ayn Rand novel — or, as Andrew corrects him, not a parody at all: they simply repeat what they’ve read. Even so, Rauch is not sorry to see politics reacting to a world where Musk can casually drop $300 million into a presidential race.
 
•       The Gloves-Off Court and the Accelerating Presidency. The Supreme Court term brought the clearest statement yet of the conservative agenda: Humphrey’s Executor overturned after eighty years, making it far easier for presidents to fire agency heads at will; what remained of the Voting Rights Act effectively gutted; birthright citizenship surviving by a shockingly narrow margin. The imperial presidency is not new, Rauch notes — what’s new is the speed. A president can now simply refuse to run a congressionally mandated agency, and the Senate, forty quietly nixed nominations notwithstanding, remains lacking in spine. The Todd Blanche nomination, he says, is the next test of whether any line exists at all.
 
•       Fukuyama Was Right — and Liberals Should Say So. Rauch sees a moral vacuum and, for the first time, a craving to fill it: the pope’s AI encyclical, multi-faith clergy bearing witness in Minnesota, the Episcopalians and Latter-day Saints finding their voices. His prescription for the second half of 2026 is a liberal one, in the nineteenth-century sense — science, markets, constitutions, rule of law. Fukuyama, widely misunderstood, was right: there is only one system that produces knowledge, peace, freedom, and wealth on a global scale, and it’s ours. It needs fixing — he cheers the bipartisan housing bill Trump refused to sign — but liberals must relearn how to tell that story, and how to brag.
 
About the Guest
 
Jonathan Rauch is a senior fellow in Governance Studies at the Brookings Institution and a contributing writer at The Atlantic. He is the author of nine books, including The Constitution of Knowledge: A Defense of Truth (2021), Cross Purposes: Christianity’s Broken Bargain with Democracy (Yale, 2025), and Kindly Inquisitors: The New Attacks on Free Thought. A recipient of the National Magazine Award, he serves on the boards of Heterodox Academy and Civic Life, and is a longtime friend of the show.
 
References:
 
•       Rauch’s Atlantic essay identifying eighteen “distinct and unmistakable signs” of a modern American reinvention of fascism — the piece he stands by, even as he admits the phenomenon keeps morphing.
 
•       His recent essays for The UnPopulist on why liberal societies need grand stories about themselves, and why liberals must relearn how to brag about liberalism.
 
•       Jonathan Rauch and Peter Wehner in The New York Times — the earlier argument, which Rauch says still holds, that the Republican Party is more dangerous to the constitution and the rule of law than the Democratic Party.
 
•       Tim O’Reilly in The Economist — on Elon Musk building a form of capitalism that Adam Smith would hate.
 
•       Francis Fukuyama — whose widely misunderstood The End of History thesis Rauch defends: there is only one system that creates wealth, produces knowledge, and settles political disputes on a global scal...

“If you can only explain the arguments of the other side because they’re mad or dangerous or dumb, the problem is with you.” — Turi Munthe
 
On yesterday’s show, the psychiatrist Sally Satel described how Americans imagine their own mental condition differently, depending on their politics and age. Which is a nice segue for today’s conversation with the Anglo-French journalist turned media entrepreneur Turi Munthe. It’s not just in our mental health self-evaluation, Munthe argues, that we hallucinate reality. Indeed, the French born Munthe often sounds like one of his post-structuralist compatriots in his defiantly slippery notion of ontological reality.
 
In Why We Think What We Think: The Unexpected Origins of Our Deepest Beliefs, Munthe argues that our deepest convictions turn out to be shaped by genetics, brain shape and sometimes even by the agricultural legacy of our distant ancestors. Left and right thinkers, Munthe argues, are different political phenotypes — each hallucinating their own version of reality.
 
Total relativism, then — the full French post-structuralist monty? Not quite. Here’s where Munthe’s Englishness kicks in. Following the Anglo-Russian philosopher Isaiah Berlin, Munthe insists pluralism and relativism are different. So Turi Munthe doesn’t just think what he thinks because of his English or French origins. Borrowing from the cognitive scientists Dan Sperber and Hugo Mercier, Munthe defines thinking as a “contact sport”. So, for example, believing that the 2020 election was stolen is what Munthe calls a social commitment, because humans would rather be wrong together than right alone.
 
Speaking of convenient segues, Munthe’s thoughts on thinking set the scene for next Tuesday’s conversation with Emily Eakin, author of The Frenchmen. It’s her history of seductive post-structuralists like Foucault, Derrida and Lacan who corrupted a whole generation of literary American Ivy Leaguers (including Eakin) into hallucinating reality.
 
Five Takeaways
 
•       Pluralism Is Not Relativism. Munthe opens with Isaiah Berlin’s distinction: registering the sincerity and value of opinions across the political, religious, and ethical spectrum does not relativize truth. That Charles Windsor is King of the United Kingdom is a statement of fact; whether you’re a monarchist or a republican is where opinion begins. The book confines itself to the second category — beliefs, values, and opinions that cannot be factually proven — and asks what the nonrational influences on them actually are. The answer is humbling: genetics account for perhaps half of political persuasion, and the rest is shaped by everything from brain anatomy to the agriculture of our ancestors.
 
•       Different Political Phenotypes. At the margins, left and right differ neurologically: right-leaners are on average more readily startled by loud noises and more attentive to threat, while left-leaners carry a slightly larger anterior cingulate cortex — the brain region where we process ambiguity and split hairs. That anatomy, Munthe argues, explains the ideological capture of academia and media better than any conspiracy: hair-splitters go where the hair-splitting is, and a conservative 22-year-old doesn’t volunteer for a newsroom where 80% of colleagues think differently. We are, in his phrase, different political phenotypes, each hallucinating a different version of reality.
 
•       Thinking as a Contact Sport. Drawing on Dan Sperber and Hugo Mercier’s research, Munthe argues that reason didn’t evolve for solitary contemplation — Rodin’s Thinker is the wrong image — but for argument: to convince you to hunt the buffalo with me, I need reasons that look objective to you too. The evidence is everywhere, from the most impactful academic papers being written by pairs and groups to the creative density of small university towns. The implication is political: the people we disagree with are not obstacles to good thinking but the condition of it — the loyal opposition that helps us get out of ourselves.
 
•       Wrong Together Rather Than Right Alone. Munthe’s reading of January 6 and the stolen-election faith is social rather than psychiatric: an enormous number of our beliefs matter more for what they do than for what they say, and professing them is a commitment to a group. From an evolutionary perspective, believing what your village believes — even about the god who is a giant rock at the end of the field — is intelligent, because the ostracized lose the protection of the group. The terrifying data point is the marriage test: in the 1950s, around 4% of families would have objected to a child marrying across party lines; today it approaches 45%. That is affective polarization, and it can pull societies apart.
 
•       The Problem Is With You. Munthe spent his twenties unable to fathom American gun rights — supporters had to be bought, dumb, or morally corrupt — until he did the work and found a tradition he now calls beautiful and heroic, whether or not he shares it. His rule of thumb: if you can only explain the other side’s arguments as madness, danger, or stupidity, the problem is with you. This is not centrism — there was no middle ground on slavery or the Holocaust — but a defense of the clash itself: societies need the left to fix inequality and the right to defend the village, and we think best when the two are, in his words, continually bashed against each other.
 
About the Guest
 
Turi Munthe is a journalist and policy analyst turned media entrepreneur. He founded Demotix, which became the largest network of photojournalists in the world before its sale to Corbis in 2012, and Parlia, an encyclopedia of opinion. He has written for The Economist, The Guardian, the TLS, The Nation, and The Spectator, has sat on the boards of Index on Censorship, openDemocracy, and the Bureau of Investigative Journalism, and is a board member of the Italian media group GEDI, publisher of La Repubblica and La Stampa. He studied Arabic and History at Oxford. Why We Think What We Think: The Unexpected Origins of Our Deepest Beliefs (Penguin/Hutchinson Heinemann) is out now in the UK, with US publication early next year.
 
References:
 
•       Why We Think What We Think: The Unexpected Origins of Our Deepest Beliefs by Turi Munthe (Penguin/Hutchinson Heinemann, 2026). Timothy Garton Ash: “Thinking is a contact sport.”
 
•       Isaiah Berlin — the Anglo-Russian philosopher whose insistence that pluralism and relativism are not the same thing frames the whole book.
 
•       Dan Sperber and Hugo Mercier...

“You can do as many brain scans as you want, but you’ll never be able to distinguish an impulse that wasn’t resisted from one that’s irresistible.” — Sally Satel on why social media addiction can’t be proven in court
 
When Meta and YouTube lost the so-called landmark social media addiction trial back in March, there was jubilation inside and outside the courtroom. Finally, Big Tech seemed a bit less big. Justice, it seemed, had finally been done.
 
Or maybe not. (Full disclosure: my wife is head of litigation at Google, so I might be a bit biased). But today’s guest, the psychiatrist Sally Satel, doesn’t have a dog (or husband) in the fight, and she’s a skeptic of the trial’s outcome. A senior fellow at the American Enterprise Institute and the medical director of a Washington methadone clinic, Satel argues that the concept of addiction — her clinical specialty — was distorted in the trial to serve a $1.4 trillion litigation pipeline. The plaintiffs’ theory reifies addiction as behavior beyond control. If that were true, Satel argues, none of her patients would ever get better.
 
Satel comes at this as a doctor rather than a moralist. Clinically, she acknowledges, social media addiction exists — excessive use, loss of control, continued harm — and the treatments are the same behavioral strategies she uses at her clinic. But legally, where causation is everything, the plaintiff argument collapses. No brain scan can ever distinguish an impulse that wasn’t resisted from one that’s irresistible. The mechanism of harm is unprovable — a ludicrously brittle foundation, Satel argues, for a trillion dollars of lawsuits against social media companies.
 
So when is “addiction” really addiction? Satel’s upcoming book Not a Disease: Rethinking Addiction in the Heart of America’s Overdose Crisis, which will be out in early 2027, addresses this awkward truth. And we’ll certainly have her back on the show to discuss.
 
Five Takeaways
 
•       The $1.4 Trillion Distortion of Addiction. The March bellwether verdict awarded “Kaley” $6 million from Meta and YouTube, but the real story is the litigation pipeline behind it — four states suing Meta in a single day, with total claims reaching $1.4 trillion. Satel’s objection is professional: the lawsuits invoke brain science at the most superficial level and reify addiction as behavior beyond control. If addiction truly extinguished self-control, her methadone patients would never get better — and they do. Kaley herself had fragilities that long predated the platforms, one therapist testified social media barely came up in her sessions, and her stated career plan is to become an influencer.
 
•       Clinically Real, Legally Incoherent. Satel’s central distinction: in a clinic, social media addiction is a recognizable condition — excessive use, loss of control, continued harm — treatable with the same strategies she uses for drugs, from identifying idiosyncratic cues to self-binding tactics like grayscale screens and switched-off notifications. In a courtroom, where causation is everything, the concept falls apart. No brain scan can distinguish an impulse that wasn’t resisted from one that’s irresistible; the technology simply doesn’t exist. The mechanism of harm at the center of the litigation is not just unproven but unprovable.
 
•       Demoralization Is Not Depression. At her methadone clinic, nine patients out of ten arrive reciting diagnoses — bipolar, PTSD, depression — that closer examination reveals they don’t have. What’s medicated as depression is often demoralization: the entirely understandable response to crumbling public housing and an abusive partner. Younger people now diagnose themselves by internet, because a diagnosis has become valorized — a built-in excuse, a victim category, less expected of you. Gratifying in the short run, Satel argues, and developmentally retarding in the long run: less engagement with risk, with challenge, with the world.
 
•       The Therapeutic Culture Meets Woke Therapy. Sixty years after Philip Rieff’s Triumph of the Therapeutic, the medicalization of ordinary sadness is complete — grief becomes a prescription, and resources drain away from the seriously ill. The newer turn is political: counselor training now teaches that the therapist knows what’s wrong before the patient speaks — oppression — and a congressional investigation is examining antisemitism within the American Psychological Association. Satel’s emblematic story: a young man fired by his therapist for gently suggesting his rabbi’s sermon had become too politicized. You don’t fire a patient, she notes. The therapist’s moral commitments bled into the room.
 
•       The Good News About Fentanyl. Fentanyl deaths are falling significantly — not because fewer people use, but because far fewer die. Narcan is flooding the streets, nailed up in boxes on telephone poles and handed out free at clinics; the Chinese supply has tightened and Mexican distribution has been disrupted; and, as in every drug epidemic, the upcoming generation is opting out — the same dynamic the rappers documented during crack. The morbid factor is real too: many long-term users have died. Satel’s book Not a Disease — rethinking addiction from the front lines of the overdose crisis — arrives in early 2027.
 
About the Guest
 
Sally Satel is a psychiatrist, a senior fellow at the American Enterprise Institute, and the medical director of a methadone clinic in Washington, DC. She is the author or co-author of PC, M.D., One Nation Under Therapy, and Brainwashed: The Seductive Appeal of Mindless Neuroscience, and her essays appear in Persuasion and The Free Press. Her new book, Not a Disease: Rethinking Addiction in the Heart of America’s Overdose Crisis (MIT Press), is out in early 2027.
 
References:
 
•       Not a Disease: Rethinking Addiction in the Heart of America’s Overdose Crisis by Sally Satel (MIT Press, early 2027) — drawn from her years on the front lines of the overdose crisis.
 
•       Satel’s recent Persuasion essay arguing that social media addiction is more complicated than the litigation suggests, and her Free Press pieces on social media addiction and on why fentanyl deaths are falling.
 
•       One Nation Under Therapy and Brainwashed: The Seductive Appeal of Mindless Neuroscience — Satel’s earlier assaults on the therapeutic culture and superficial brain science.
 
•       The Age of Diagnosis by Suzanne O’Sullivan — the book behind the episode’s framing question: which comes first, the diagnosis or the anxiety?
 
•       Philip Rieff — whose The Triumph of the Thera...

The Israeli art restorer and spy Gabriel Allon is as real as George Smiley or Hercule Poirot. He even has his own Wikipedia page. The CNN special correspondent Jamie Gangel describes herself on X as a friend of Gabriel Allon before she gets around to mentioning her husband, the best-selling thriller writer Daniel Silva who, of course, is the creator of Allon. As with all successful literary inventions, of course, Silva is as much Allon as Allon is Silva. Silva-Allon. Amongst the most lucrative partnerships in contemporary fiction.
 
Unsurprisingly, Silva still hasn’t managed to kill off Allon. Twenty-six books into the series, the retired Mossad legend turned Venice art restorer is the truest fake spy in the business — a character so real that Silva, who seems to revel in his insularity, has to lock himself away from imagining how readers receive him. Or perhaps he’s locking himself away from Allon.
 
In Ransom, out today, a billionaire real estate baron asks Allon to find his vanished wife, the dazzling socialite Alice Winter — who has, of course, a darker life. Behind Silva’s latest summer best-seller looms Russia’s shadow war on Europe. That’s the post-cold war cold war politics of Ransom. Unit 29155, the GRU’s sabotage specialists, are hitting pipelines and flying drones over Copenhagen, an MI6 officer describes the Russians as feral animals, and Ransom’s climax unfolds at an emergency Downing Street summit with Zelensky without the United States in the room. It’s a terrifying narrative as real as Gabriel Allon.
 
Five Takeaways
 
•       An Art Restorer Who Used to Be a Spy. Gabriel Allon was invented for one book — a 1999 novel inspired by the Camp David peace process, written like a demon in a cottage near Land’s End — and was never meant to continue. Twenty-six books later, Silva has flipped the character’s formula: once an operative whose cover was art restoration, Allon is now an art restorer who used to be a spy, formally retired and living in Venice. As for his age, Silva freezes time the way Christie froze Poirot: Allon is aging in reverse, quite intentionally, and Silva will write him for as long as people want to read him.
 
•       Russia’s Shadow War on Europe. The serious spine of Ransom is the campaign of sabotage and subversion that Russia is waging against all of Western Europe — the GRU’s Unit 29155 hitting pipelines, running hacking operations, and flying the drones that shut down Copenhagen Airport and pushed Denmark toward its highest state of alert. One MI6 officer tells Silva the Russians are acting like feral animals, and the worse the battlefield goes, the more aggressive the sabotage becomes. Silva has been here before: Moscow Rules put him ahead of the curve on Putin in 2008, and Allon’s personal war with Putinism enters its latest round.
 
•       Writing an Israeli Hero After October 7. Allon is the old Israeli liberal establishment made flesh — secular, social-democratic, the Ashkenazi security elite whose surviving members now oppose the conduct of the war. Silva, an avowed two-stater, saw the change coming years before October 7: quoting his friend Richard Haass, this is not your parents’ or grandparents’ Israel. Allon, he insists, would never serve in a cabinet alongside far-right extremists like Ben-Gvir and Smotrich — and they wouldn’t have him. What happened on October 7 was barbaric, Silva says, but this war has gone on far too long.
 
•       The Super Rich, With a Judgmental Eye. It’s fun to write about the rich — the jets, the expensive toys, the glamour of Venice, Knightsbridge, and Ibiza — but Silva does it for a specific reason: to draw the contrast between how they live and how the rest of us live. A new global super elite is checking out from everyone else, he argues — unwilling to pay taxes, to educate the young, or to care for the sick — so Ransom balances the socialite’s world against an encampment of homeless seasonal workers on Ibiza. Britain itself gets the same treatment: austerity, seven prime ministers in a decade, and shires where nobody is doing very well.
 
•       Pencils on the Floor. Silva calls himself a literary novelist masquerading as a thriller writer, and his working methods match the self-description: he lies on the floor and writes with pencils, keeping technology as far from the work as possible. AI appears in Ransom only because the plot demanded it — a proof-of-life photograph that has to be checked for deepfakery, in a world where even presidents fake pictures. The thought of asking AI to write for him prompts a simple question: what would be the point? A book a year since 1997, and book 27 began the day after this one was finished.
 
About the Guest
 
Daniel Silva is the award-winning, #1 New York Times bestselling author of twenty-six Gabriel Allon novels, including The Kill Artist, Moscow Rules, Portrait of an Unknown Woman, A Death in Cornwall, and An Inside Job. His books are published in more than thirty countries. He lives in Florida with his wife, CNN special correspondent Jamie Gangel — who describes herself on X as a friend of Gabriel Allon before mentioning her husband. His new novel is Ransom (HarperCollins, July 14, 2026).
 
References:
 
•       Ransom by Daniel Silva (HarperCollins, July 14, 2026) — book 26 of the Gabriel Allon series. James Patterson: “Silva can really write, the bastard.”
 
•       Moscow Rules (2008) — the novel Silva is proudest of, which put him ahead of the curve on Putin and began Allon’s personal war with the Russian secret services.
 
•       The Kill Artist (2001) — Allon’s first appearance, inspired by the Camp David peace process and written in a rented cottage near Land’s End.
 
•       Unit 29155 — the real GRU sabotage unit behind the pipeline attacks, hacking operations, and drone incursions that drive the novel’s plot, including the 2025 shutdown of Copenhagen Airport.
 
•       John le Carré — whose George Smiley, Silva concedes, needs no advice from Gabriel Allon, though the two would have got on had they met on Bywater Street.
 
•       Richard Haass — the foreign policy analyst and friend of Silva’s whose line frames the Israel discussion: this is not your parents’ or your grandparents’ Israel any longer.
 
About Keen On America
 
Nobody asks more awkward questions than the Anglo-American writer and filmmaker Andrew Keen. In Keen On America, Andrew brings his pointed Transatlantic wit to making sense of the United States — hosting daily interviews about the history and future of this now venerable Republic. With nearly 3,000 episodes since the show launched on...