Yale YT Course: Introduction to the Old Testament (Hebrew Bible) (RLST 145) with Christine Hayes

She teaches the way a good trial lawyer opens. Before the jury hears any evidence, she tells them what to distrust, and the thing she asks them to distrust is everything they walked in with. At 16:02 she says that most of our cherished presuppositions about the Bible rest on claims others have made on its behalf, claims the Bible never makes for itself. That sentence tries to disarm the fundamentalist and the village atheist in the same stroke, since both of them argue with a book she says does not exist.

The five myths (it’s a book, it’s pious parables, it’s for children, it’s theology, God wrote it) are the standard critical-scholar liturgy. The best of them is the fourth. She points out at 23:11 that biblical Hebrew has no word for religion, and that becoming an Israelite worked like naturalization: you joined the community, kept its law, revered its lore, and died its death. That is a more useful description of how Judaism still functions than most things said about it from pulpits, and it explains why arguments between Jews and Christians about “belief” so often talk past each other. The catechism model of religion, she says at 23:45, is alien to the Bible.

The frame she opens with is Yehezkel Kaufmann’s. At 1:37 she says the Ancient Near Eastern people with the most lasting legacy was a people that had an idea, and at 5:25 that what counted was less the number of gods than that this God stood outside and above nature.

Hayes says: “This people that had an idea. It was a new idea that broke with the ideas of its neighbors, and those people were the Israelites.”

The line comes from Yehezkel Kaufmann. Hayes assigns him for the second week, and her opening is a paraphrase of his opening. Kaufmann was a Ukrainian-born Zionist who taught at the Hebrew University and wrote an eight-volume history of Israelite religion between 1937 and 1956, which Moshe Greenberg abridged into English in 1960 as The Religion of Israel. His target was Julius Wellhausen. Wellhausen’s Prolegomena (1878) told an evolutionary story: Israel began as a tribal polytheist people like its neighbors, the eighth-century prophets invented ethical monotheism, and the priestly law came last, in the exile, as a fossilization of prophetic spirit. Kaufmann inverted almost every piece of that. Monotheism came first, as an original intuition at the founding of the nation; the prophets applied it; the priestly law was old and pre-exilic. The idea did not evolve out of paganism. It broke with paganism at the start.

His argument was less about God’s number than about God’s nature, which is why Hayes says at 5:25 that number counted for less than that this God stood outside nature. Pagan gods, in Kaufmann’s account, are born, have parents, marry, die, eat, and answer to something above themselves, a fate or a primordial realm that magic can manipulate. The biblical God has no biography and no superior. There is no theogony in Genesis. Nobody coerces Him with a spell. Kaufmann’s cleverest piece of evidence was an argument from absence. The Bible’s polemic against idolatry treats idols as wood and stone, fetishes with eyes that do not see. It never engages the mythology that the idols represented. Kaufmann took that as proof that the writers had lost contact with real pagan thought so long before that they no longer understood it. A people still tempted by Baal’s story would have argued with the story. These writers mocked the statue.

Henri Frankfort’s group at Chicago made a parallel argument in The Intellectual Adventure of Ancient Man (1946), later republished as Before Philosophy, whose closing chapter describes the Hebrews’ “emancipation of thought from myth.” Hayes’s phrase about a god known through history rather than nature comes from that tradition too. Behind both stands the nineteenth-century notion of ethical monotheism as Israel’s gift to the world, which Reform Judaism used to justify its own existence and which Kaufmann, a secularist, nationalized: the idea as the creation and property of a people. That is why the sentence says a people had an idea. The grammar is Zionist.

The last fifty years have gone hard against him on the history. In 1975 and 1976 excavators at Kuntillet Ajrud in the Sinai found eighth-century inscriptions with blessings “by Yahweh of Samaria and his Asherah,” and a tomb at Khirbet el-Qom near Hebron gave a similar line. Hundreds of small clay pillar figurines of a woman holding her breasts turn up in Judahite houses from the same period. Mark S. Smith’s The Early History of God (1990) and The Origins of Biblical Monotheism (2001) laid out the case that now dominates the field: Israel’s God started as a member of the Canaanite pantheon, absorbed the high god El’s traits, then displaced Baal and Asherah over centuries, and the flat statement that no other god exists first appears in the exilic chapters of Isaiah. The Bible keeps fossils of the older picture. Psalm 82 has God standing in a council of gods and sentencing them to death. Deuteronomy 32:8, in the reading preserved at Qumran and in the Greek, has the Most High dividing the nations among the sons of God, with Israel as Yahweh’s share. Kaufmann read those as dead metaphors. Smith reads them as memory.

Morton Smith gave the sociology in Palestinian Parties and Politics That Shaped the Old Testament (1971). A “Yahweh-alone party” existed for centuries as a minority faction, sometimes in power under kings like Hezekiah and Josiah and often not, and it won for good in the exile because its members were the ones who wrote and edited the surviving texts. On that account the idea did not save the people. A party that held the idea captured the archive, and the archive then told the people that the idea had saved them. Hayes concedes the substance of this at 5:10 when she says the Israelites shared the pagan worldview early and that “some Israelites, not all at once and not unanimously,” broke with it. That sentence and Kaufmann’s cannot both be the story. She teaches the first in the body of the course and uses the second for her opening.

Kaufmann’s argument from absence has also been turned around. Ezekiel describes women weeping for Tammuz at the Temple gate. Jeremiah’s opponents tell him things went well when they baked cakes for the Queen of Heaven. Psalm 29 is a Baal hymn with the name changed, and the sea monster Leviathan and the sea itself as an enemy appear throughout the poetry in ways that match the Ugaritic tablets found at Ras Shamra after 1929. The writers knew the myths. Calling idols wood and stone was polemic, and polemic is a sign of contact, since nobody argues with a corpse. Benjamin Sommer’s The Bodies of God and the World of Ancient Israel (2009) went after the transcendence claim from another side, showing that in the older strands God has a body, appears in several places at once, and walks in gardens and eats with Abraham. The God outside nature is the priestly and Deuteronomic God, and the Torah’s editors let the other one stand beside Him.

Akhenaten worshipped the sun disk alone in the fourteenth century, a generation or two before any plausible Moses, and Freud built Moses and Monotheism on the coincidence. Babylonian scribes wrote hymns that made Marduk the sum of all the other gods. Xenophanes in sixth-century Greece mocked gods with human bodies and posited one god unlike mortals in form or thought. None of those became a surviving religion, which is Kaufmann’s real point and Hayes’s: the idea alone counts for little, and the Israelites made a people out of it. Jan Assmann, in Moses the Egyptian (1997) and The Price of Monotheism (2003), accepts that something new happened but locates it elsewhere. The novelty is what he calls the Mosaic distinction, the split between true religion and false, which pagan religions did not have since their gods were translatable across borders. Zeus was Jupiter was Amun. Yahweh had no translation. Assmann thinks that distinction gave the West its notion of religious truth and also its habit of religious violence, and that Kaufmann’s admiring account skips the bill.

Then there is the causal claim, that the idea ensured survival. The Bible’s own answer to why Judah outlived Babylon has more to do with practice than doctrine, which fits what Hayes says later in the same hour about religion as naturalization. Circumcision, Sabbath, food laws, and endogamy are boundary markers that work in a foreign city without a temple, and Deuteronomy’s centralization of sacrifice in Jerusalem had already made worship a matter of one place rather than every hilltop, so losing the one place hurt without dissolving the pattern of daily life. The deportees went as an elite in a body and were resettled together on the Chebar canal, where they could keep a scribal class alive. Fifty years later Cyrus let them go home and Persia funded the rebuilding. Ezra then imported the book. Every one of those factors could have happened to a people with a different idea, and the northern tribes with the same God and the Samaritans with the same Torah show that the idea by itself guaranteed nothing. And the survival that matters to Hayes’s students is the survival past 70 CE, which the rabbis engineered by turning a temple religion into a text religion, an invention the Bible does not contain.

By the exile, a group of Judahites held a picture of God with no rivals, no biography, and no dependence on nature, and they wrote it into a text and a legal code that a small people could carry through the loss of its state. Nobody else did that, and the results are still with us. The strong version, that the idea appeared whole at the beginning and explains the nation, is the thing Hayes calls overstated at 42:09. She opens with it anyway because it is a better first sentence than the truth, and because it lets the students feel they are studying a revolution instead of a slow argument among Iron Age priests.

Hayes then assigns Kaufmann for next week and tells students at 42:09 that his ideas are important but overstated. So she borrows his thesis for her own opening and flags the loan as inflated in the same hour. The thesis that an idea saved Israel is a theologian’s causal story. A historian might point to the Babylonians deporting the Judahite scribal and priestly elite as a body and settling them together, which preserved the people who could write, and to the Persian policy of return, which gave them somewhere to write from. Ideas need carriers. The northern tribes had the same God and vanished. She half concedes this at 3:16 when she says the north was lost “to a large degree,” and the Samaritans, who kept the Torah and are still around, get no mention at all. Her line at 3:30 that the Israelites alone emerged after the death of their state is the kind of sentence one says to open a course, not to close one.

Her flood comparison is the strongest ten minutes. She lists the shared narrative elements of Ziusudra and Noah at 11:31 and then makes the point that the borrowing is less important than the rewriting: the Mesopotamian gods drown mankind because the noise keeps them awake, and the biblical God does it out of moral outrage at creatures He made and loves. “It’s saying something different,” she says at 12:54. That is the method of the course in miniature. Read the parallel, then read the deviation, and the deviation is where the writer’s values live. It also quietly reframes the whole question of originality. The Israelites did not invent the flood. They invented the reason for it.

In the passage on faith in the room, 27:41 to 29:31, she says no one in the course wishes to undermine religious faith, then says that when a student asks a question driven by an article of faith, she will invite him to consider the article of faith producing the problem, and will not debate its merits. That is a fair rule and it is also an asymmetric one. The critical method gets to be the floor everyone stands on; the believer’s premise gets treated as a symptom to be examined. She is right that this is the only common ground a Yale lecture hall can have. She is also softer than the truth when she says the course does not undermine faith. The source-critical account of the Pentateuch does undermine some faith positions, the literalist ones, and she knows it, which is why she says at 26:50 that there is no basic incompatibility between believing in inspiration and acknowledging human editing. That sentence is true for many believers and false for others, and she leaves the second group to find that out on their own.

Two things date the lecture to 2006 and to Yale. The first is the sales pitch: at 14:47 she says we tend to think of the Bible as an old fuddy-duddy document, and promises it is instead a revolutionary cultural critique. A professor in a secular elite college has to make the Bible sound like dissent to get the room to lean in, and she does. The second is her taste. Job is “possibly the greatest book of the Bible” (18:31), Ecclesiastes “reads like an existentialist writing from the twentieth century” (18:13). Those are the two books a modern skeptic with a literary education loves, and they are the two she promotes. Leviticus gets one clause about holiness. That is a preference, and it shapes what a million viewers now think the Bible is about.

She also gets a few things loose in a way that live lecturing produces. The Dead Sea Scrolls site as maybe “a pottery factory or something” (39:06) is a hedge on a scholarly dispute she does not want to spend time on, and she is right that Esther is the one book missing from Qumran. The claim at 21:34 that she will not let her twelve-year-old and eight-year-old read the Bible is a good laugh line and also a serious claim about the text: incest, rape, murder, and characters who deceive and repent. Her point that the Bible rarely moralizes and leaves the reader to draw conclusions (22:24) is correct and is the strongest argument for reading it as literature rather than as instruction.

What the lecture is, in the end, is an argument that the Bible is a human anthology of dissenting voices that later Jews chose to bind together without reconciling, and that the reader should not reconcile them either (19:04). That is the modern academic consensus, delivered with charm. What it is not is neutral. It is a tradition of its own, going back through Kaufmann and Wellhausen, and it has its own articles of faith, the chief one being that a text with many authors and many voices is more alive than a text with one. She does not invite the students to consider that premise. Nobody teaching from inside a tradition ever does.

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Jason Arday – Serial Fabulist, Plagiarist & Dissertation Supervisor

The late Jason Arday claimed to be supervising 15 Ph.D. students. That figure comes from the September 2025 Carter-Ruck letter sent on his behalf. The same letter said he had “examined over 35 PhD theses as an external examiner.”

Rehana Awan’s 2025 Open University EdD thanks Alison Davies, Naomi Watson and Arday and explicitly calls all three her supervisors. Sasha Henriques’s January 2026 Cambridge Ph.D. repository record lists Jason Arday as an adviser, and the underlying thesis materials identify him as one of the Ph.D. supervisors.

Arday’s January 2020 CV listed only two Ph.D. supervision assignments, Christopher Jones at Durham as third supervisor and Sohil Alqazlan at Warwick as second supervisor. And The New York Times reported last month that when Cambridge appointed him in 2023, he had moved between universities without remaining at one long enough to oversee a normal three-year-plus doctorate from beginning to end. Cambridge nevertheless required a “proven successful track record” of Ph.D. supervision for the post.

I see two Arday-examined Ph.D. theses that are receiving substantive public scrutiny right now.

Damilola Folayan, Cambridge, 2025. Her own professional biography says Arday and Laura Serrant examined the thesis. Benjamin Ryan and Colin Wright published a detailed attack on its academic rigor on September 2, focusing on its three interviewees, autoethnographic material and “Critical Poetic Inquiry.”

Rebecca Loy, Liverpool, 2023. Liverpool’s repository confirms Searching for Critical Consciousness; in the Pursuit of Freedom. Loy herself publicly thanked Arday as her external examiner and said he gave her “overwhelmingly positive feedback.” Ryan began circulating the thesis today, September 4, highlighting the six personally known interviewees, including her aunt.

I just found two additional completed doctorates for which the graduates themselves identify Arday as an examiner: Bonita Corrie-Lunn’s Oxford Brookes Ph.D. on antisemitism in British football and Fezile Sibanda’s Sussex Ph.D., Echoes of Empire: A Collective Story of Black Brit-ish Academics Working in Higher Education Institutions in England.

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LAT: ‘Payouts in L.A. County’s $4-billion sex abuse settlement delayed to two largest law firms’

Rebecca Ellis writes:

Slater Slater Schulman, which represents roughly 3,700 people in L.A. County’s $4-billion sex abuse payout, told clients it has “temporarily paused” payouts.
Downtown LA Law Group, which represents roughly 2,700 plaintiffs in the case, has not yet received any money to distribute to victims.

Rebecca Ellis wrote Oct. 26, 2025:

On Oct. 14, Lawrence Friedman, a former Department of Justice attorney who headed up the federal watchdog office for the bankruptcy system, spearheaded a blistering motion asking Houser to reduce Slater’s attorneys fees, which he estimated were at least $20 million. Friedman is seeking to push them out of the case, alleging the firm had “run amok” and “dangled the prospect of lottery sized payouts” in front of clients without vetting them.

Here’s that Friedman motion filed in the Delaware bankruptcy court in Case No. 20-10343 (LSS), administered by Judge Laurie Selber Silverstein.:

This Motion is the culmination of what happens when you let trial lawyers run amok in the bankruptcy system. After the Boy Scouts filed this bankruptcy case, the race was on amongst a group of technology firms and law firms to bundle or aggregate as many claims as humanly possible to be filed in the bankruptcy case to take the largest portion of available funds they could. In that singular goal they succeeded. The unfortunate result was that an estimated 2,000 claims quickly exploded to become 82,000 claims. Among the top leaders in this effort is the law firm of Slater Slater Schulman (“SLATER”). SLATER together with other claim aggregators including the marketing “law firm” of Pintas & Mullins (https://www.pintas.com/) (“Pintas”) acquired approximately 14,600 claims which were filed in this bankruptcy case.

The SLATER law firm has little if any quality controls in place to validate the information in the 14,600 claims other than validating that they were real people who had filed the claim. In fact, there is no financial incentive for SLATER to have quality controls because the firm gets paid based on total claims filed where validity of the claims does not matter to them. The claim aggregators working with SLATER as well as with other law firms such as Van Arsdale aka AVA Law Group (https://avalaw.com/) (“Van Arsdale”) used every form of technology and media available to search out and target victims of sexual abuse. Then SLATER dangled the prospect of lottery sized payouts in front of the victims while at the same time failing to disclose mandatory information required by ethical and professional rules – think conflicts – as well as any practical information regarding expected recoveries.2

As this Motion discusses in detail, the SLATER firm was and is still so singularly focused on its own pecuniary interests – estimated to be between $50 million and $100 million – that the firm has completely lost sight of the ethical and professional obligations to all of its 14,600 clients. Amongst the most brazen and incriminating of these violations is the fact that SLATER hid from its clients that the claims it filed have been under investigation by the Trustee of the Settlement Trust for seventeen (17) months. SLATER never disclosed this fact to any of its clients. This blatant misinformation and deception from the SLATER firm continues even today.

The Claimants represented by the SLATER firm will attest that when they contacted the firm over the preceding seventeen (17) months, they were told by SLATER that their claims were “in the queue” to be reviewed. This was blatantly false. When the Claimants informed the SLATER firm that they desired to terminate its legal services, the Claimants were told by SLATER that the contingency agreements are “iron clad” and that the Claimants will have to pay SLATER no matter what, and further that the Claimants will have to pay SLATER in addition to any fees charged by their new counsel. The firm went on to bully the Claimants by telling them that SLATER will file a lien against their award and so the firm is guaranteed to get its fees and “there is nothing the client can do about this”. This of course is false and extremely heavy handed. It is this lien threat which necessitates the request that this court opine on the reasonableness of fees (if any) as it is integral to the termination and substitution of counsel.

For the reasons discussed in detail below, the Claimants request this court to allow their representation to be transferred to Friedman Partners and the Scheer Law Group, and further that this Court determine the amount of appropriate compensation – if any – to be awarded to the SLATER firm. Claimants also seek injunctive relief in an order directing Slater to cease its dissemination of misinformation and proactively notify all their clients as to their actual rights in this matter.

II. ARGUMENT

The bankruptcy scheme in which the SLATER firm and other similar law firms have engaged is simple. The SLATER firm solicited clients promising to represent them as lawyers when in fact it delivered nothing more than claim preparation services delivered through contractors and paralegals. As such, SLATER should be compensated the same as a petition preparer under 11 U.S.C. §110, as its services amounted to nothing more than proof of claim preparers.

Moreover, in the case of the SLATER firm, due to that continuing fraud, SLATER should be denied all of its fees for the numerous breaches of its ethical and professional duties to its clients.

As this Court is well aware, mass tort bankruptcy cases are an entirely different breed of animal. In the mass tort context, the problems started when individual cases were filed by attorneys who took the tangible risks typical of personal injury cases and performed all of the work necessary to bring those cases to fruition and obtain positive results. These attorneys prevailed in the individual cases and were awarded very significant monetary damages. After a growing number of these individual cases were tried and millions of dollars were lost, the defendants faced real lasting exposure and risk that the owners and company could be significantly and permanently damaged. The problems and pressure continued to mount and escalate.

Given the enormous financial pressure these mass tort claims impose, many corporate defendants often resort to bankruptcy as an alternative to resolve them. Once in bankruptcy, the company can use the bankruptcy code to flush out insurance proceeds and other sources of funds to then resolve the onslaught of claims. This is where the problems begin to develop.

Extremely sophisticated claim aggregating companies team up with law firms and endeavor to generate the greatest number of claims possible, literally hijacking the bankruptcy process with the singular objective of amassing enormous numbers of claims and generating an obscene amount of legal fees for themselves. The scheme is deceptively simple. Create a marketing media campaign with the alluring message that anyone with any casual contact with the defendants who suffered an injury afflicting millions might be entitled to millions of dollars. Marketers often point to verdicts in the original test cases to suggest that claimants could receive millions even though they know that the actual amount any individual victim will receive in this mass tort bankruptcy scenario is a small fraction of that amount. It is a baited hook intended to attract as many prey as possible.

The claimants are caught in the net of these sophisticated marketing scams and are shamelessly victimized yet again. Claimants are induced to execute nearly identical retainer agreements with the law firms which categorically provide for a 40% contingency fee on any recovery the victim receives with the implication that there is a lot of intense attorney work to be done to earn that fee. These simple but quite onerous contingency fee agreements ultimately entitle the attorneys and their sophisticated partners to reap the benefits of these massive payouts resulting not from legal skill but from amassing claims all for doing nothing more than assisting the claimants in completing a proof of claim form.

The numbers are staggering. For example, in this case, while the claimants’ attorneys may share in a pool of $91,000,000 aggregate legal fees, the individual claimants who elect an express payment of $3,500.00 only net $2,100.00, after the attorneys take its $1,400.00 contingency fee!

Overall, the claimants will never receive more than 20% – and likely much less – of their awarded claim value while the law firms collect 40% of the total pot. This is absurd. Some might say it has criminal implications.3

The colossal financial upside for the claimants’ attorneys which have systematically accumulated literally thousands and thousands of claims is both breathtaking and mind boggling. It is impossible to understate the added harm, humiliation and injury that these attorneys have inflicted upon the 80,000+ claimants in this bankruptcy, all of whom have already suffered unimaginable and indescribable injuries and damages.

In this Motion, the Claimants herein seek various relief:

• Substitute in new counsel of record Friedman Partners and the Scheer Law Group in place of SLATER to protect and preserve their rights and claims;

• Have their prior legal services agreements with SLATER terminated and voided;

• Have the Court deny SLATER’s any fees under the 40% contingency fee agreement or reduce those fees to quantum meruit.

The Claimants herein represent only a miniscule sample of all of the claimants that SLATER represents in this case. Claimants are informed and believe that the allegations contained in this Motion apply to all other claimants represented by SLATER in this case.

As a result, Claimants seek additional prospective relief. Claimants request that the Court set an Order to Show Cause as follows:

(1) Directing SLATER to demonstrate that the other claimants it represents are not materially dissimilar to the Claimants herein;

(2) Allow these other claimants which SLATER currently represents to have the same relief and remedies sought by the Claimants in this Motion, and

(3) Enjoin SLATER from continuing to disseminate misinformation to all claimants concerning their rights to terminate SLATER’s representation of them.

SLATER’s business practices in this case, as well as those by other mass tort law firms that follow the same claims accumulation business model, should be closely examined and no longer tolerated by this Court or other bankruptcy courts administrating mass torts. If society is going to utilize the bankruptcy courts to solve societal issues then the bankruptcy courts need to recognize the actual work being done on behalf of claimants and set up protections and guardrails to ensure that claims are properly vetted and that insurance funds and other proceeds intended to compensate the claimants, are distributed directly to claimants and not to claim preparers seeking extraordinary payments akin to personal injury lawyers, for what is clearly ordinary paralegal level work.

This Motion is intended to be Ground Zero.

III. THE SLATER FIRM AND ITS AGGREGATORS ARE A SIGNIFICANT PROBLEM

On its splashy website, with eleven (11) offices around the country, SLATER represents that it is “a prominent full-service law firm with over 40 years of experience representing survivors of catastrophic and traumatic events.” Specializing in mass tort cases, SLATER touts that its attorneys “take a personal approach to representation. We fight for the results you truly desire, not just those that are easily achieved. As dedicated advocates, we are constantly available to our clients to provide guidance and support. Knowing how overwhelming the litigation process can become, our team is here to address your concerns, so that you can focus on the most critical aspect of any accident: your recovery.” (https://sssfirm.com/child-sexual-abuse-cases/boy-scouts-of-america-case-overview/)

In mass torts bankruptcy cases such as here, nothing could be further from the truth. Instead of championing the cause of the vulnerable victims, SLATER uses its clients as pawns to instead extract extraordinarily disproportionate and unreasonable fees from these cases.

While SLATER and similar firms will likely contend that the huge aggregation of thousands of claims allows it to be a powerful and heavy hitting presence in the bankruptcy litigation, in reality, that is simply not the case. It is a red herring and offers a feeble justification for the egregious and outrageous amount of fees it seeks in mass tort cases. SLATER’s mammoth economic benefits in fees recovered far outweigh any benefit each individual claimant could possibly receive. In fact, this Court has found as much in its opinion denying the Coalitions request of payment of its fees.

Indeed, in the mass tort context of bankruptcy cases, the expertise of law firms like SLATER lies not in actually litigating the individual claimants’ claims to maximize monetary damages for the injured and damaged victims, but rather in partnering with savvy and shrewd marketing, media and advertising firms such as Pintas with its well-honed proficiency in accumulating vast and astonishing numbers of claims to funnel to SLATER to capitalize upon. What SLATER has effectively created is simply a “Claims Machine” designed to spit out huge wads of cash for itself!

The entire bankruptcy system as currently constructed and applied rewards those law firms for their self-serving business model designed for its own personal gain and benefit, underscores and highlights the great and desperate need for reform to rebalance the system and protect the individual claimants who are the true victims, the injured, the aggrieved and the damaged. By permitting big firms like SLATER to continue to operate in the manner described here in mass tort cases, for their often obscene financial benefit, to the detriment of the individual victims who are the most vulnerable, simply empowers and entitles SLATER to “re-victimize” the victims over and over again.

These selfish tactics perpetrated by legal counsel, who are officers of the court, is unacceptable and abhorrent in our practice of law. It should no longer be tolerated in the bankruptcy system. The interests of the injured victims must be protected and safeguarded. The Debtor’s bankruptcy case will never be able to make right the horrible wrongs that were done long ago in the claimants’ lives, and no compensation can possibly heal the life-long damage which has been done to them. But this Court cannot allow firms such as SLATER to repeatedly take great financial advantage of the individual claimants under the guise of legal representation. Claimants request that this Court take action now.

IV. STATEMENT OF FACTS AND PROCEDURE

On February 18, 2020, Boy Scouts of America filed a voluntary Chapter 11 bankruptcy petition. This bankruptcy is jointly administrated with the bankruptcy filing of Delaware BSA, LLC. The joint case is being administered by the Honorable Judge Laurie Selber Silverstein.

The Chapter 11 Plan was confirmed by order of the Court on September 8, 2022.

The Settlement Trust is nearing completion of the first set of distributions and thus these matters are ripe for adjudication.

V. THE COURT SHOULD APPROVE THE SUBSTITUTION OF ATTORNEYS

Claimants seek to substitute Friedman Partners and the Scheer Law Group in place of the SLATER firm, for all purposes, in this bankruptcy action. Claimants request an Order approving this substation of counsel.

It is a long-standing and well-established general principle and that a client has the right to change his or her attorney at any stage of proceedings. Over 100 years ago, the Second Circuit held that a client may apply to the court for substitution of counsel without assigning a reason, and the court may grant such substitution while imposing terms to protect the displaced attorney’s rights, such as ensuring payment of fees or preserving liens. The Flush, 277 F. 25 (2nd. Cir. 1921).

In this case, for the reasons set forth in great detail below, Claimants seek to substitute Friedman Partners and the Scheer Law Group in the place of SLATER for all purposes. Not only do the Claimants have the right to have counsel of their choosing at any time in this proceeding, but SLATER has completely failed to meet many of the most important professional and ethical obligations and responsibilities which are critical to an effective attorney-client relationship in its representation of the Claimants.

Proposed new counsel are experienced and seasoned bankruptcy attorneys and are committed to represent the Claimants in all regards to the best of their abilities. Claimants request that the substitution of counsel to Friedman Partners and the Scheer Law Group be approved.

VI. THIS COURT SHOULD TERMINATE SLATER’S LEGAL SERVICES AGREEMENT

Each and every attorney practicing in the law in the State of Delaware is subject to the Delaware Lawyer’s Rules of Professional Conduct (“LRPC”), which governs all aspects of that attorney’s practice in the State.

A review of the various Rules clearly and unambiguously demonstrates SLATER’s repeated and flagrant violations of the LRPC.

A. RULES GOVERNING LEGAL REPRESENTATION OF CLIENTS

Like many states, Delaware adopted the ABA Model Rules in large part in enacting the LRPC. Several of those Rules are of particular importance in this case as they relate to SLATER’s professional activities and conduct in the representation of the Claimants. For ease of reference, Claimants provide the text of the sections cited in the attached appendix with emphasis added.

B. IN ITS REPRESENTATION OF THE CLAIMANTS HEREIN AND THE OTHER CLIENT CLAIMANTS, SLATER VIOLATED MANY OF THE LRPC PROFESSIONAL RULES

As discussed above, SLATER’s business model is incredibly simple and effective. SLATER partners with mass marketers and paid claims aggregators to accumulate as many claims as possible under a standard but onerous 40% contingency fee agreement. The immense accumulation of a massive number of claims is done with the false promise of huge monetary awards. With each new claimant added by SLATER, the mutual interests of the Claimants and SLATER actually diverge until SLATER becomes essentially an “adversary” to their claimant clients.

The most critical point is that whether SLATER represents one claimant or 14,600 claimants its duties, responsibilities and obligations as the attorney of record is exactly the same to each client claimant at all times. An attorney representing thousands of claimants in a mass torts case must still comply with all applicable rules of professional conduct as set forth in the LRPC. Neither the size nor complexity of the representation exempts an attorney from their ethical and professional obligations to each and every client. No matter how they attempt to justify it, neither SLATER nor any other mass tort law firm representing huge groups of claimants can escape this requirement.

Under the LRPC Rule 1.1, attorneys are required to provide competent and diligent representation to their clients, and comply with all professional rules, regardless of the number of claimants they represent. Attorneys must possess the knowledge, skill, thoroughness, and preparation necessary for the representation, which includes understanding the relevant issues of fact and law. They must also act with reasonable diligence and promptness in representing claimants, such as responding promptly to requests for information.

This duty applies universally, including in mass torts cases, where the scale of representation does not diminish the attorney’s obligation to meet these standards. The LRPC do not provide any exceptions to the duty of competence and diligence based on the number of claimants or clients a lawyer represents. Instead, the rules impose uniform obligations on attorneys to ensure that all clients receive adequate representation. For example, Rule 8.4(a) prohibits lawyers from violating or attempting to violate the rules of professional conduct, regardless of the circumstances. This principle was reinforced in Matter of Abbott, 308 A.3d 1139 (2023), where the court clarified that the rule applies broadly and is not limited to specific contexts.

Notably, while SLATER views its 14,600 claimant clients as a source of power and prestige, it is this massive number of clients that causes escalating ethical concerns due to all the conflicts of interest. In In re Katz, 981 A.2nd 1133, 1147, the Court noted: “A leading treatise on lawyer ethics by Professors Hazard and Hodes begins its overview on the subject of “conflicts of interest in the practice of law” by noting that “[l]oyalty to clients is one of the core values of the legal profession, perhaps equal in importance with maintaining confidentiality and diligently or zealously working to advance a client’s interests.” The 1908 Canons of Professional Ethics provided, in part, that “[i]t is unprofessional to represent conflicting interests, except by express consent of all concerned given after a full disclosure of the facts.” Accordingly, the Hazard and Hodes treatise concludes “already present in this [1908] formulation are the modern themes that client consent can ‘cure’ many conflicts of interest but only if it is informal [sic] consent.”

Concerns such as these resulted in Rule 1.7(b)(4) which requires the informed consent of each affected client to be confirmed in writing. SLATER completely glosses over these conflicts of interest not only as between its client claimants but also as between its own financial interests in the case and those claimant clients.

While attorneys may limit the scope of their representation through their agreements with clients, such limitations do not exempt them from their duty to provide competent representation. The duty of competence is “circumscribed by the scope of representation agreed to,” but attorneys cannot limit their responsibilities to the extent that they fail to provide meaningful legal advice or act negligently. In re Seare, 493 B.R. 158 (D. Nev. 2013). This principle ensures that attorneys remain accountable for the quality of their representation, even when handling numerous claimants.

Failure to comply with professional conduct rules can result in disciplinary actions, including disqualification, suspension, or other sanctions. For instance, a law firm was found to have violated its ethical and legal duties, leading to forfeiture of its fees. See In re Mercury, 280 B.R. 35 (Bkrtcy. S.D. NY 2002). Similarly, an attorney’s repeated failure to meet deadlines and conduct discovery can result in disciplinary sanctions. In re Poliquin, 49 A.3d 1115 (SCt. DE 2012). These cases highlight the serious consequences of failing to adhere to ethical standards, regardless of the scale of representation.

As a result, it is inescapable and undeniable that even attorneys representing thousands of claimants in mass torts cases such as SLATER are unequivocally required to comply with all applicable rules of professional conduct. The complexity or size of the case does not diminish or excuse the attorneys’ ethical and professional obligations, including providing competent and diligent representation, avoiding unethical conduct, communicating and obtaining consent to settle, and adhering to all jurisdictional rules of professional conduct.

SLATER is in clear violation of many of its ethical and professional obligations. A summary of the firm’s LRPC violations are as follows:

(1) Total Failure of Communication

Communication between an attorney and client is literally the cornerstone and foundation of the attorney-client relationship. Not only is it prominently mentioned in the Preamble to the LRPC but it is encompassed in Rule 1.4 and Comment thereto.

SLATER’s lack of any meaningful much less personal communication with the Claimants is indefensible.

(a) No Communication. There has been little or no communication whatsoever, and the Claimants are often unable to speak to a SLATER attorney. Communication with SLATER staff is not a substitute for communication with an attorney, where the legal issues and advice are concerned.4 To the extent that legal issues and advice are communicated by SLATER staff, there is concern that there has been unauthorized practice of law. LRPC requires that SLATER attorneys are required to communicate with their client.

(b) Payment Options. SLATER attorneys completely failed with honesty and candor to discuss and advise the Claimants an analysis of the settlement options available to Claimants.

(c) Settlement. The LRPC requires that SLATER discuss settlement options with the Claimant and that a settlement cannot be accepted (or rejected) without the express consent of the Claimants. The Claimants never provided SLATER with any express or implied authority to make decisions on settlement offers without communicating with the Claimants or obtaining their express consent.5 This is a complete failure and the fact that SLATER represents 14,600 claimants is no excuse for its noncompliance.

(d) Failure to Advise on Conflicts of Interest or Dilution.

Representing 14,600 claimants cause unique issues for SLATER in the representation of the entire group of claimant clients, which it was clear that either SLATER failed to appreciate, or most likely chose to not fully disclose to the claimant clients.

(e) Failure to Act in Claimants’ Best Interests. As legal counsel to the Claimants, SLATER was bound to act in their best interests. The overwhelming issue that SLATER acted in its best interests alone. The Claimants became simple a “number” as opposed to a valued client, and that number was $1,400. Every Claimant represented a minimum fee of $1,400 to SLATER, and to SLATER it all adds up to a minimum payday of $20,000,000.00. To get there, SLATER violated numerous Rules of the LRPC and broke the trust and confidence that should be at the core of every professional attorney-client relationship. SLATER acted for itself, not its client claimants.

C. THE LIMITATIONS ON SLATER’S REPRESENTATION AND ITS BUSINESS PRACTICES OUTWEIGHS ANY BENEFIT FROM BEING IN A LARGE GROUP

SLATER will likely contend that the accumulation of large numbers of claimant clients provides the firm a decided advantage and weight at the negotiations table with the Debtor, and that this advantage outweighs the disadvantages of that huge group representation. In this case, that is false and simply a disingenuous attempt to justify their massive attorney’s fees.

The “heavy lifting” at the settlement negotiation table was done by the Official Tort Claimants Committee. SLATER did not litigate any issue and did not perform any significant or meaningful legal work. SLATER did not do any work beyond that of a paralegal at best. SLATER’s presence added little if anything to the survivors’ settlement, which clearly has resulted in relatively nominal awards as compared to the magnitude of SLATER’s fee award. At the end of the day, the survivor claimants could have opted into the same settlement had they been in pro se without SLATER’s representation.

SLATER cannot use the fact that the firm represents 14,600 claimants as any justified excuse for its blatant disregard for and clear violation of its professional and ethical duties and obligations under the LRPC, which were enacted specifically to protect the clients from their attorneys.

For all practical purposes, it is literally impossible for SLATER to represent 14,600 individual claimant clients and fully discharge all its ethical and professional duties and responsibilities set forth in the LRPC. SLATER owes each and every client the same professional and ethical duties, no matter how many clients the firm represents.

D. LACK OF COMMUNICATION AND CONSENT TO SETTLE IS PARTICULARLY OFFENSIVE

LRPC Rule 1.4 requires attorneys to have a high level of communication with clients on a variety of topics. The Commentary to LRPC Rule 1.4 requires that attorneys obtain the express consent or authorization of a client to settle a case or a claim unless the client made its intentions known in advance. The LRPC rules are both clear and unambiguous as well as basic and fundamental to the attorney-client relationship. It is undisputed that SLATER has violated these Rules by its business practices and business model.

The intent of the client to authorize a settlement must be expressed and manifested to others. Unexpressed intent or authorization that is not communicated cannot prevail in determining whether the attorney was authorized to settle the case. See Shields v. Keystone Cogeneration Systems, Inc., 620 A.2d 1331 (1992).

An attorney in Delaware who settles a claim without communication, explanation, or consent from the client violates the LRPC. LRPC Rule 1.8(g) explicitly prohibits a lawyer from participating in an aggregate settlement of claims without obtaining informed consent from each client. The rule requires that the lawyer disclose the existence and nature of all claims involved and the participation of each person in the settlement, and that the client’s consent be documented in writing. Settling a claim without the client’s consent or explanation violates this rule, as it deprives the client of the opportunity to make an informed decision regarding their legal matter. Additionally, Rule 1.4 mandates that lawyers keep clients reasonably informed about the status of their matters and explain matters to the extent reasonably necessary to permit the client to make informed decisions regarding the representation. Failure to communicate with the client about the settlement terms or obtain their consent contravenes this fundamental duty of communication and transparency. Because of the importance of client consent and transparency, such attorney conduct breaches the ethical obligations of honesty, trustworthiness, and client communication, as outlined in the LRPC. Failure to adhere to the principles of the LRPC constitutes professional misconduct.

LRPC Rule 8.4 explicitly states that it is professional misconduct for a lawyer to engage in conduct involving dishonesty, fraud, deceit, or misrepresentation, or to violate or attempt to violate the Rules of Professional Conduct knowingly. Settling a claim without the client’s consent or explanation inherently involves deceit and misrepresentation, as it deprives the client of their right to make informed decisions regarding their legal matters, and is considered a violation of professional conduct. See Matter of Abbott, 308 A.3d 1139 (2023).

Delaware case law underscores the necessity of client consent and communication in legal representation. For example, in Matter of Lankenau, the court found that an attorney’s failure to disclose relevant information during disciplinary proceedings violated rules prohibiting dishonesty and conduct prejudicial to the administration of justice. Matter of Lankenau, 158 A.3d 451 (2017). Similarly, Rule 4.1(a) and (b) emphasize that lawyers must avoid making false statements or failing to disclose material facts when necessary to prevent fraudulent acts by clients. In re Sanclemente, 86 A.3d 1119 (2014). These principles apply broadly to situations where attorneys act without adequately informing or obtaining consent from their clients.

The Delaware Supreme Court also has consistently enforced ethical rules to ensure attorneys uphold their professional responsibilities to all of their clients. In In re Kingsley, 950 A.2d 659 (2008), the court addressed violations of professional conduct rules, emphasizing the importance of compliance with ethical standards and client-focused practices. Additionally, in In re Sanclemente, 86 A.3d 1119 (2014), the court highlighted the attorney’s duty to follow established procedures and avoid actions that could harm clients or the administration of justice.

Claimants can find no reported cases which diminish or limit an attorney’s duties and responsibilities or commitment to maintaining high ethical standards in the legal profession under the LRPC, where multiple clients are represented in a case. In fact, the attorney owes the exact same duties and obligations to each and every client at all times.

As a result, it is clear that attorneys who violate professional conduct rules by settling claims without client consent may face disciplinary actions, including suspension or disbarment. For instance, in Matter of Abbott, an attorney’s actions that violated consent orders and professional conduct rules led to significant sanctions. Matter of Abbott, 308 A.3d 1139 (2023). Similarly, in In re Davis, the court imposed disciplinary measures for unauthorized practice and violations of ethical obligations. In re Davis, 43 A.3d 856 (2012).

In summary, settling a claim without communication, explanation, or consent from the client constitutes a violation of the LRPC. This includes disclosure of SLATER’s pecuniary interests in the settlement and its strong preference for how the case is settled. Such actions breach ethical obligations of honesty, transparency, and client communication, as established by LRPC Rule 8.4 and supported by Delaware case law. Attorneys engaging in this conduct risk disciplinary sanctions, including suspension or disbarment, underscoring the importance of maintaining ethical standards in legal practice.

VII. THIS COURT SHOULD DENY ALL FEES TO PRIOR COUNSEL, OR IN THE ALTERNATIVE, REDUCE THOSE FEES TO A QUANTUM MERUIT AMOUNT

Because of the great risk of damage and abuse to clients, LRPC Rule 1.5 is very specific in its treatment of contingency fee arrangements between an attorney and his or her client.

[5] An agreement may not be made whose terms might induce the lawyer improperly to curtail services for the client or perform them in a way contrary to the client’s interest. . . .

A. SLATER SHOULD BE DENIED ALL FEES

To be clear, violations of the LRPC, including lack of communication, unauthorized settlements, and conflicts of interest, are grounds for disciplinary action. Attorneys acting pro se or representing themselves remain subject to the LRPC, as highlighted in Matter of Abbott, where the court affirmed that violations of the LRPC can lead to disciplinary measures regardless of the context. Matter of Abbott, 308 A.3d 1139 (2023). These violations may also impact the enforceability of fee agreements and the attorney’s ability to collect fees.

Due to fraud in the inducement of the contingency fee agreements, the ongoing fraud during the 17 months when the claims were under investigation, and the firm’s continuing lies to Claimants regarding their fees being guaranteed and that Claimants will have to pay twice, leads to the inescapable conclusion that the SLATER firm should be denied their fees altogether.

In June 2024, the Trustee for the Settlement Trust advised SLATER that they were going to cease processing any of the claims filed by SLATER due to a large number of irregularities within those claims. For the next seventeen (17) months, the SLATER firm literally and unashamedly lied to each and every client by representing to them that their claims were being processed when, in reality, SLATER knew that the Settlement Trust had ceased processing the SLATER claims and that those claims were under investigation by the Trust.

In September 2025, SLATER negotiated a settlement with the Settlement Trust Trustee whereby all of the SLATER claims would be set aside and reviewed by a third-party neutral reviewer. On or about September 9, 2025, SLATER sent a Notice informing the claimant clients that the Settlement Trust had ceased processing claims and regarding the negotiated resolution. A true and correct copy of a sample Notice is attached hereto as Exhibit “A”. The Notice stated that SLATER firm took full responsibility for these issues and explained that SLATER would be cutting their contingency fees by 10% of the actual dollar value SLATER would have received.

In reality however, it was not a 10% reduction of SLATER’s contingency fees, but rather was only a cut of 4%, which was very ambiguous in the Notice provided by the firm. The final sentence of the Notice makes vague reference to clients terminating the SLATER firm providing if the client decides to terminate their relationship with the firm, the claim will still need to be subjected to the additional review and prior to being reconsidered by the Settlement Trust.

As noted herein, SLATER’s misrepresentations to its client claimants continued as those clients began to contact the firm and notify the firm that they did not wish to continue with SLATER’s legal representation. In each case, the client was informed by SLATER that the firm’s contingency fee agreement was “iron clad” and that no matter what SLATER did, the clients would still need to pay the 40% fee to SLATER in addition to any other fee charged by a new substituted counsel.

In fact, Delaware law is quite clear. In a contingency agreement, when a firm is discharged prior to the end of the case, the discharged firm is ONLY entitled to quantum meruit or the reasonable value of its services. Furthermore, in the case of malfeasance – such as exists here–where SLATER lied from the very beginning of the legal engagement through today – fees may be denied it their entirety.

SLATER partnered with other firms including Pintas which claims to be one of the largest “Partnering Law Firms” in the United States. The Pintas firm claims to represent 30,000 clients in all fifty (50) states, yet only list two (2) attorneys on its website. Pintas leverages technology and media to target potential clients through advertising, social media and other sophisticated technology in order to obtain tremendous quantities of clients in major mass tort cases. Pintas then refers (i.e., sells) these clients (i.e., leads) to law firms such as SLATER in return for a 60/40 split of the fees collected by SLATER. It is a massive fee share operation. Using Pintas and other claim aggregators to obtain clients, SLATER was able to aggregate nearly 15,000 claims in the Boy Scouts case. Hence, due to its 40% contingency fee agreement as applied to all 14,600 claims, SLATER as a law firm became one of the largest beneficiaries of the Settlement Trust and recipient of trust funds. Said another way, SLATER seeks to recover 40% of the distributions from the trust while their clients only receive a maximum of 15% of their claim value.

Due to all the intentional and serious violations of the LRPC as set forth in detail herein, there is good cause to terminate the Claimants’ agreement with SLATER, and as a result, deny all of SLATER’s fees. This result would clearly send a message to SLATER and other law firms that employ the same business model taking advantage of claimants in mass tort bankruptcy cases for their own financial gain.

FOOTNOTES

1. The Debtors in these chapter 11 cases, together with the last four digits of each Debtor’s federal tax identification number, are as follows: Boy Scouts of America (6300) and Delaware BSA, LLC (4311). The Debtors’ mailing address is 1325 West Walnut Hill Lane, Irving, Texas 75038.
2. All of the clients of the SLATER firm represented by the movants believed that they are going to collect 100% of their award letter. The reality is that it is unlikely any claimant will see a distribution that exceeds twenty (20%) percent of the award letter. The magnitude of this problem is crystalized when you factor in the fact that many of these claimants have fallen victim to loan companies which have advanced monies based on the award letters.
3. A person who, having devised … a scheme or artifice to defraud – in this case the Settlement Trust and the claimants – and for the purpose of executing … such a scheme or artifice or attempting to do so– (2) files a document – in this case the POC – in a proceeding under title 11; or (3) makes a false or fraudulent representation, claim, or promise concerning or in relation to a proceeding under title 11, at any time before or after the filing of the petition, … shall be fined $5000.00 under this title, imprisoned not more than 5 years, or both. 18 U.S.C.§ 157
4. This is particularly true considering that the document explaining the claimants’ options runs some thirty plus pages.
5. This is never more blatant than in failing to communicate with regard to the concerns of the Settlement Trust or the agreed solution for reviewing the SLATER claims which were never discussed with ANY claimant represented by SLATER.

Rebecca Ellis writes Oct. 2, 2025:

In the biggest sex abuse settlement in U.S. history, some claim they were paid to sue

…Becker Law Group said in a July court filing that four of the firm’s clients recently told the firm they weren’t abused. Patrick McNicholas, who co-counsels cases with the firm, said the lawsuits were weeded out as part of the firm’s vetting process.

Slater Slater Schulman, which has filed more cases than any other law firm, stated in a September filing that client John Doe J.S. “should not have been included.” The firm previously said in a lawsuit that he had been sexually assaulted at Los Padrinos Juvenile Hall in Downey beginning in 2006 when he was 13.

Slater Slater Schulman has found similar problems in its avalanche of sex abuse cases against the Boy Scouts of America. On Sept. 9, retired U.S. Bankruptcy Judge Barbara Houser, who is overseeing the $2.4-billion victim settlement trust, singled out Slater Slater Schulman for a pattern of “irregularities” and “procedural and factual problems” among its plaintiffs. The firm previously said it represented roughly 14,000 victims.

The firm was asked to pay for an “independent third party” to investigate its cases for fraud before going through the trust’s standard vetting process. Clifford Robert, an outside attorney representing the firm in its issues with the Boy Scout cases, said Slater Slater Schulman is “working tirelessly” to address the issues and that justice for survivors is its top priority.

Tammy Rogers, 56, hired the Slater firm in 2022 to sue after a staff member at MacLaren Children’s Center, a county-run children’s facility now infamous for abuse, allegedly molested her when she was about 9. She said she has grown unnerved by the financial incentive lawyers like hers have in amassing unwieldy numbers of clients.

“You can’t get ahold of them,” she said of her firm, which has filed cases on behalf of hundreds of new plaintiffs since the settlement was finalized. “I called them repeatedly, repeatedly, repeatedly.”

County and plaintiff lawyers nailed down the $4-billion figure on Oct. 30. Since then, thousands more plaintiffs have been added.

“[Firms think] ‘there’s a fund out there, and I’m going to do everything in my power to get as much as I can,’” said one attorney suing the county over sex abuse, who declined to be named, fearing professional repercussions.

It’s a fund, critics say, with few safeguards for fake claims.

The cases will be reviewed by retired Los Angeles County Superior Court Judge Louis Meisinger, who mediated similar settlements for the victims of the 2023 Maui wildfires and the 2017 Las Vegas concert mass shooting. Any plaintiff who wants to skip that vetting process can take $150,000 in a lump sum at the start of next year…

The county was never interested in a fight.

Once the deluge of lawsuits started, county lawyers had just one goal: to make the cases go away without the county going bankrupt.

They did not want to risk a trial. Early in negotiations, county lawyers understood they were looking at a number of cases of brutal rape and molestation that could easily make a disgusted jury award the type of budget-busting $135-million verdict that got handed to the Moreno Valley Unified School District in 2023 for the sexual abuse of two students by a middle school teacher. The district hired him despite a past arrest in the molestation of his foster son, according to the lawsuit.

ChatGPT says:

There is considerably more concerning material on Slater Slater Schulman than the September 4 Los Angeles Times story alone suggests. But I would distinguish evidence of serious mishandling from proof that the firm knowingly submitted fraudulent claims. I have not found a court finding that Slater itself committed fraud.

The strongest evidence comes from Slater’s own admission in the Boy Scouts case.

The Scouting Settlement Trust told Slater in June 2024 that it had identified irregularities in the firm’s submissions and stopped processing all of Slater’s Matrix claims. In a September 9, 2025 notice to its clients, Slater acknowledged this and said:

“We take full responsibility.”

The firm also acknowledged that there were “procedural and factual problems” in some of its submissions. It agreed that every undetermined Slater claim would undergo an extra independent third-party review before the Trust would consider it. Slater paid for that additional review.

That is not somebody accusing Slater of wrongdoing. That is Slater admitting a serious breakdown in its own mass-claim operation.

The consequences were substantial enough that Slater voluntarily cut its fee by 10 percent of the fee it otherwise would have received. For a standard 40 percent contingency, that reduced the fee to 36 percent.

There is a potentially more serious disclosure problem.

The chronology is ugly. Slater says the Trust informed it about the irregularities and froze its claims in June 2024. Slater’s disclosure to clients did not go out until September 9, 2025, roughly fifteen months later.

Fourteen former Slater clients subsequently alleged in bankruptcy court that Slater affirmatively misled them during that period about why their claims were delayed. Their motion says clients were told their claims were “in the queue” when, according to the Trust’s later disclosure, Slater’s claims had actually been frozen pending investigation.

That allegation matters much more than the original submission errors. Errors can arise from running 14,000 cases. Knowingly giving clients a false explanation for a fifteen-month freeze would present an entirely different ethical problem.

But this distinction is important: the clients’ misrepresentation allegations have not, as far as I can find, been adjudicated on the merits. The fee-forfeiture fight was still pending in 2026. A July filing expressly said the merits of the alleged misconduct remained pending.

Slater has conceded at least one bad L.A. County abuse plaintiff.

This is especially relevant to today’s story.

In September 2025, Slater told the court that one of its L.A. County plaintiffs, John Doe J.S., “should not have been included.” Slater had previously filed a lawsuit alleging that J.S. was sexually assaulted at Los Padrinos beginning when he was 13.

One erroneous claimant proves very little by itself. But it becomes more interesting when placed beside the Boy Scouts episode. In two enormous sexual-abuse inventories handled by the same firm, Slater has now encountered claim-quality problems serious enough to remove at least one L.A. plaintiff and subject its entire remaining Boy Scouts inventory to extraordinary independent vetting.

The Boy Scouts Trust’s response was unusual and broad.

The Trust initially halted Slater’s Matrix claims. After investigating, the Trust and Slater BoyScouts agreed that every undetermined Slater claim would pass through a neutral before entering the normal claims process. Claims could be flagged for further investigation, require corrected or additional submissions, or potentially fail to proceed.

Former DOJ official Lawrence Friedman subsequently moved to strip or drastically reduce Slater’s fees, alleging that the firm’s roughly 14,600-claim operation had essentially no adequate quality-control system. That characterization remains an advocate’s allegation.

Some former clients have made allegations beyond sloppy claim preparation.

The October 2025 motion alleges that Slater told departing clients that their 40 percent contingency contracts were “iron clad,” threatened liens, told them they would owe Slater regardless of changing lawyers and otherwise discouraged them from terminating the firm.

The former clients asked the bankruptcy court to terminate their fee agreements and deny or drastically reduce Slater’s fees. Fourteen former clients were pursuing that relief together.

Slater has fought those allegations and its outside lawyer Clifford Robert described them as “scurrilous.”

Today’s L.A. audit suddenly looks much more significant in that context.

The LA Times article on Sep. 4, 2026 says Slater represents about 3,700 L.A. County plaintiffs and has temporarily stopped payouts because the claims administrator is auditing some of its cases.

The article then specifically connects this development to the Boy Scouts history. In that proceeding, Judge Barbara Houser sought independent review after a pattern of “irregularities” and “procedural and factual problems” appeared in Slater claims.

Slater Slater Schulman has already acknowledged serious factual and procedural defects in another gigantic sexual-abuse claims inventory. Those defects were sufficiently pervasive that the Boy Scouts Settlement Trust froze the firm’s claims, required extraordinary third-party review of every remaining claim, and prompted Slater to accept responsibility and reduce its fees. Former clients are separately accusing Slater of concealing that freeze for fifteen months and misleading them about the status of their cases. Meanwhile, in the L.A. County litigation, Slater has acknowledged that at least one abuse plaintiff “should not have been included,” and its 3,700-case inventory is now undergoing another unexpected audit.

I dug through the Boy Scouts record. The frustrating result is that the number we most want has not been publicly disclosed. I found no Trust filing giving a Slater-specific table of claims that passed, were flagged, required correction, were withdrawn, or were disallowed. But the record gets us much closer than the Times story does.

The Trust did not merely spot-check Slater. It froze every Slater Matrix claim.

The September 9, 2025 joint notice filed by the Scouting Settlement Trust and Slater says that in June 2024 the Trust identified irregularities in some Slater submissions and “paused the processing of all Matrix claims submitted by the Slater Firm” while it investigated. The notice then says the Trust confirmed, and Slater agreed, that there were “procedural and factual problems” in some submissions.

This is a joint filing signed by counsel for the Trust and Slater.

Every undetermined Slater claim was then put through an extraordinary second gate.

Slater agreed to pay for an independent neutral. The neutral received Slater’s internal documents and communications relevant to each undetermined claim, as well as the documents Slater had submitted to the Trust. A claim could pass the neutral and enter normal processing. Otherwise it could be flagged, further investigated, supplemented with additional information, disallowed, or subjected to other action. The filing specifically connects the irregularities to the Trust’s fraud protocol.

That is more serious than I initially appreciated. The neutral was not simply checking forms for missing signatures. The neutral was comparing individual claims against Slater’s own internal files and communications.

Slater told clients it bore responsibility.

In its September 2025 client notice, Slater said the Trust had stopped processing its claims, acknowledged “procedural and factual problems,” and told clients that some would need to reconfirm facts, supply additional information, or submit new or more complete claim forms. Slater wrote, “we take full responsibility,” apologized for the delay, and voluntarily reduced its contingency fee.

Slater accepts responsibility for sufficiently serious defects in its own claims operation to cause a roughly 15-month freeze and extraordinary outside review.

The affected inventory appears to have been enormous.

Slater and associated claim aggregators were credited with about 14,600 Boy Scouts proofs of claim. An earlier bankruptcy filing listed Adam Slater as representing 14,170 claims.

Bloomberg Law reported that the Trust had paused “nearly 10,000” Slater claims.

I found at least one concrete example of a Slater claim that successfully emerged from the special review.

On January 2, 2026, the Trustee reported on claimant E.K., a Slater client. E.K.’s claim had previously been held because of the Slater irregularities but was by then at the Trust’s ordinary “Initial Review” stage. The Trust had not issued an additional-information request based on E.K.’s questionnaire. That means at least this claim had cleared the special Slater neutral-review gate.

I also found a concrete Slater claim containing what the Trust called “material discrepancies.”

A different Slater claimant filed a certification in April 2026 concerning an Additional Information Request from the Trust. The Trust had identified alleged material discrepancies between the claimant’s original proof of claim and later Claims Questionnaire. They concerned the acts of abuse, the abuser’s identity, and the frequency of abuse. The claimant said he had answered the request and expressly wanted Slater to continue representing him.

We do not know whether Slater created the inconsistencies, whether the claimant changed his recollection, whether the original claim was wrong, or whether the discrepancies were innocently resolved. It is evidence of exactly the sort of factual inconsistency the Trust was checking for, not evidence that this claimant or Slater committed fraud.

The overall Trust numbers tell us that a large volume of the frozen inventory eventually started moving.

As of July 1, 2026, the Trust reported 58,090 Matrix questionnaires and 55,825 determined Matrix claims. Only 2,265 Matrix claims remained undetermined across the entire Trust population. It had issued 55,664 determinations and more than $1.05 billion in Matrix disbursements.

That creates a strong inference that a substantial share of Slater’s frozen inventory eventually cleared the neutral process. Otherwise it would be difficult to get the entire 58,090-claim universe down to only 2,265 undetermined claims. But the Trust does not break that July figure down by law firm, so I would not try to calculate a Slater pass rate from it.

The most damaging allegation against Slater may actually concern what happened after the June 2024 freeze.

Fourteen former Slater clients alleged that Slater knew its claims had been frozen but did not disclose that to clients for about fifteen months. They say clients who called were instead told their claims were simply waiting “in the queue.” They accuse the firm of affirmatively misleading clients and of lacking meaningful quality controls over its 14,600-case inventory.

Those are allegations in adversarial filings. Slater denies misconduct and has called the accusations “scurrilous.” I still have not found a ruling establishing that Slater deliberately lied to those clients.

One number I cannot find anywhere is precisely the number that would make this story explosive.

Nobody in the public filings I found says:

“9,8xx Slater claims reviewed, 7,xxx passed, 1,xxx corrected, xxx flagged, xxx disallowed.”

Nor have I found a Slater-specific count of referrals under the Trust’s fraud protocol. The September 2025 notice conspicuously explains all of those possible outcomes without giving a single outcome number.

That omission itself gives you a very good reporting target.

After the Boy Scouts Settlement Trust discovered irregularities in Slater Slater Schulman’s claims, it froze every Matrix claim submitted by the firm. Slater ultimately acknowledged “procedural and factual problems” in some submissions, accepted responsibility for the resulting delay, reduced its fees and agreed to pay for an independent neutral to examine every undetermined claim against Slater’s own internal files. The neutral could clear a claim, demand additional investigation or information, or send it toward disallowance. Public records show both Slater claims that subsequently cleared the special review and Slater claims containing material factual discrepancies. What the Trust has never disclosed is the crucial denominator: how many of the nearly 10,000 reportedly frozen Slater claims were flagged, corrected, withdrawn, disallowed or referred for fraud investigation.

And today’s L.A. development makes that unanswered question much more important. Slater now has another giant sexual-abuse inventory, roughly 3,700 L.A. County cases, subjected to an unexpected audit and accompanying payment freeze. The prior Boy Scouts episode therefore stops looking like an isolated administrative mishap and starts looking like something worth testing for a recurring claims-management problem. That still is not proof of fraud.

The records I would try to pry loose next are the neutral’s engagement agreement, invoices paid by Slater, periodic reports to Houser, correspondence transmitting batches of cleared or flagged claims, and any Trust filings under seal concerning the investigation. Those documents should reveal either the number of claims passing through the neutral or enough dates and batch sizes to reconstruct it.

Here are some excerpts from a March 9, 2026 pro se filing in the Boy Scouts bankruptcy case:

“The Trust and attorneys of the claimant are SSS, failed in all aspects of their representation. SSS was terminated by the claimant for cause, based on claims of the claim, due to negligence and mishandling of the claim, communication failures, unethical conduct, lying to the claimant, and charging unreasonable and unconscionable fees. SSS conduct culminated in extreme emotional hardship for the claimant. SSS then filed an attorney lien with the BSA Settlement Trust against the claimants’ settlement funds and is preventing distribution of the settlement funds that have been approved through the BSA Trust over one year ago.”

The claimant further alleged that a junior attorney “erased, omitted, and changed significant information in the claim that could have severely jeopardized the claimant’s recovery had the claimant not caught the mistakes.”

THE 40 PERCENT FEE

“SSS stated in an email on July 17, 2025 ‘that we have to agree to a percentage fee’ and in another email on July 25, 2025 states ‘we can only agree to a percentage’. Claimant asks why ‘we have to’ and why ‘we can only’? What prevents a quantum meruit fee for work performed?”

The claimant alleged that Slater’s 40 percent contingency fee exceeded the permissible fee under New York law and accused the firm of attempting to justify the fee by claiming the case originated from its Pennsylvania office:

“Rather, this is an excuse to cover up the fact that Mr. Linc Leder Esq. and, or Mr. Adam Slater Esq. of SSS would have liked to recover a 40% fee from the claimant, and possibly their other NY clients, instead of the 33.3% that New York allows.”

The claimant added:

“What would be a very good reason why senior management at SSS might try to prosecute a 40% contingency fee from its NY clients. If caught in the error to then excuse for SSS to attribute the error to the ‘case was originated in the Pennsylvania office’, or another state, that permits a 40% contingency fee, just as they did in this claimant’s case.”

THE TRUST INVESTIGATION

This is probably the strongest allegation in the new filing:

“In June 2024, the Honorable Barbara J. Houser (Ret.) (the Trustee), in her capacity as trustee of the BSA Settlement Trust (the Trust), filed a notice to apprise the Court of irregularities that the trustee identified in the Claims of Slater Slater Schulman.”

The claimant continued:

“Thus, the Trust paused the processing of all SSS claims while the irregularities were investigated. Secretly, SSS acknowledged to the Trust that there were procedural and factual problems with their claim submissions. As a result of the investigation into SSS and at the expense of SSS, a Neutral was hired to review all claims SSS submitted to the Trust. The extra steps that the SSS claims had to undergo caused months of delays with the processing of all their claims, including mine.”

The claimant then makes the concealment allegation:

“Ms. Smith, Mr. Leder, Mr. Slater, nor anyone at SSS communicated to the claimant that all of Slater Slater Schulman BSA abuse claims were on hold and under investigation for fraud by Judge Houser and the BSA Trust.”

“According to NYS Rules of Professional Conduct 1.4, Ms. Smith, Mr. Leder, and Mr. Slater had an ethical obligation to communicate this important information to the claimant. Ms. Smith and Mr. Leder deliberately lied and withheld this information from the claimant for 9 months until claimant terminated SSS on February 3, 2025.”

“During the time span from June 2024 when Judge Houser placed a hold on the processing of all SSS claims due to ‘irregularities’ through the time when claimant terminated SSS on February 3, 2025, Mr. Leder Esq. and Ms. Smith willfully lied to and mislead the claimant by saying that her claim was being processed, that they would continue to advocate on the claimants behalf, that when claimant requested them to contact the BSA Trust, they had done so but had not received a response, and that the Trust would not speak with SSS attorneys or the claimant when the claimant requested a phone conversation.”

“Had claimant known that SSS was under investigation for fraud beginning June 2024, she would have terminated SSS immediately and not waited 9 more months to do so.”

THE CLAIMANT’S CONCLUSION

“The SSS law firm deliberately misled, lied, and attempted to use strong arm tactics with this claimant in an effort to squeeze out more settlement money for themselves. The emotional distress caused by having to defend herself against this predatory law firm has traumatized the claimant further.”

“It has reopened many of the claimant’s emotional wounds.”

“Given the serious ethical misconduct noted here against the SSS law firm, the claimant respectfully makes the following request.”

THE CLAIMANT’S EARLIER GRIEVANCE

The claimant’s earlier grievance, included as an exhibit, says:

“SSS was sloppy, careless, and incompetent with my claim when they erased and changed phrases, omitted information that I had previously included, and did not fix typos as requested. Had I not caught the mistakes, they could have affected the outcome of my claim.”

“SSS was unwilling to represent me with the Trust when I asked. This supports termination for ‘cause.’”

“SSS has refused to provide ANY itemized records of their work, whether it be ‘time stamped’ or an itemized estimate.”

“SSS, particularly Jessica Smith, is trying to convince me that by law, I must pay them a percentage of the money that I recover.”

The claimant accused the firm of trying “to deceive clients into thinking that they cannot terminate the retainer agreement and that they owe SSS the contingency fee no matter what.”

THE RETAINER AND FEE NEGOTIATION EMAILS

One exhibit shows Slater partner Jessica Smith telling the claimant on July 17, 2025:

“I kindly request a longer period of time to discuss this with my partners. I promised you I will be fair in this process. I believe we have to agree to a percentage. Can you kindly confirm a percentage of your claim that you believe is fair and allow me until next Friday to respond?”

The claimant answered:

“I will not confirm to a percentage. The fact is that we don’t even have a valid Retainer Agreement. Therefore, I will not agree to a percentage. I believe I did give you until Friday July 25 to respond.”

Smith subsequently wrote:

“We have carefully reviewed your request, and after thorough consideration, we believe that our retainer agreement is valid and aligned with applicable New York law, which typically mandates a retroactive reduction to 33.33%.”

“In the spirit of collaboration and to assist you as best as we can, we are happy to extend a further reduction of our fee to 20%. We can only agree to a percentage.”

SLATER’S OWN ADMISSION

This comes from Slater Slater Schulman’s September 9, 2025 email to its own clients:

“The Scouting Settlement Trust (‘the Trust’) advised in June 2024 that it believed there were irregularities in some of our firm’s claim submissions to the Trust. The Trust paused the processing of all claims submitted by our law firm while an investigation of the irregularities was conducted.”

“What this means for you (unless you were an exigent health claimant) is that your claim has not been reviewed by the Trust – and it may still take additional time before it is. This is neither your fault nor the Trust’s; and we take full responsibility.”

Slater then acknowledged:

“Our firm has cooperated fully in the Trust’s investigation. We now agree that there are procedural and factual problems in some of our claim submissions to the Trust.”

“Because of the problematic claims, we have agreed that all of our claim submissions to the Trust be vetted by an independent third party before they are reviewed by the Trust’s claims determination team.”

“Some claim submissions may pass through the third party’s review and proceed on to the Trust for its regular claims determination process. Other claim submissions may be flagged for irregularities that require us to contact our clients to investigate our clients’ claims more thoroughly, obtain additional information, and/or provide new or more complete claim forms to the Trust.”

“We apologize for the delay caused to date and further apologize that the remaining review process will result in additional delays in the determination of submitted claims.”

That email is signed:

Joseph M. Slater

Adam P. Slater

Jonathan E. Schulman

Posted in Abuse, Los Angeles, Los Angeles Times | Comments Off on LAT: ‘Payouts in L.A. County’s $4-billion sex abuse settlement delayed to two largest law firms’

The Comparator Test: Does Penn Apply the Same Standard?

Claude says Sep. 1, 2026:

Amy Wax appears to have left her strongest Ahmad Almallah comparator out of her own federal complaint. In Wax v. Trustees of the University of Pennsylvania, decided August 27, 2025, Judge Timothy J. Savage, Senior United States District Judge for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania, rejected Almallah as a comparator because Wax had pleaded one relevant fact about him, his participation in an October 2023 rally. Savage emphasized what was missing. Wax had not alleged that Almallah or her other proposed comparators repeatedly made harmful statements about members of the university community, engaged in a comparable pattern of conduct, or accumulated anything resembling Wax’s disciplinary history.

But by the time Wax filed her federal lawsuit in January 2025, a more relevant allegation against Almallah had been public for more than a year. The original December 5, 2023 complaint in Yakoby v. University of Pennsylvania alleged that a Jewish Penn student who took a course from Almallah in fall 2022 was singled out during a dispute over Israel and the West Bank barrier. According to the complaint, after the student defended the barrier, Almallah and other students confronted her for approximately thirty minutes. She later complained to Penn.

The March 2024 amended complaint supplied considerably more detail. It alleged that the student, identified as SAA Member #1, was a Jewish Penn alumna majoring in Modern Middle East Studies, that Almallah knew she was Jewish and had family in Israel, that he repeatedly singled her out, and that she contacted Penn professor Al Filreis seeking an urgent meeting about what had happened. These remain litigation allegations rather than established facts. They describe the sort of student-facing conduct missing from Wax’s allegations about her comparators.

Wax had a second chance to plead it. The docket in the Eastern District of Pennsylvania shows she filed an amended complaint on March 3, 2025, more than a year after the Yakoby amendment. The classroom allegation still did not appear.

The allegations later acquired additional legal significance. In June 2025, Judge Mitchell Goldberg’s Yakoby opinion recited allegations concerning antisemitic incidents involving individual members of Students Against Antisemitism and concluded that the organization had adequately pleaded associational standing. Goldberg did not find that the underlying accusations against Almallah or other faculty members were true. The allegations are evidence of what had been publicly alleged, communicated to Penn, and placed into federal litigation. They are not proof that the alleged conduct occurred as described.

Yet Wax’s January 2025 verified complaint relied on Almallah’s rally speech. Wax alleged that Almallah participated in a rally where “intifada revolution” was chanted and argued that Penn’s failure to discipline him demonstrated selective enforcement. Her lawyers had made the same argument in a pre-suit letter to Penn that named Almallah, the Annenberg lecturer Dwayne Booth, and the English and cinema studies professor Julia Alekseyeva. That was a weaker comparator allegation for the purpose Savage applied. The Yakoby allegations describe a Penn instructor, a student in his classroom, an extended confrontation connected to the student’s identity-linked position on Israel, and a subsequent complaint to Penn personnel.

Savage may still have decided the comparator issue correctly. Almallah differs from Wax in another significant respect. Penn’s current English Department faculty directory classifies Ahmad Almallah as non-standing faculty, whereas Wax holds a tenured chair on Penn’s standing faculty. The classroom account also remains contested litigation material. But if the question is whether Penn treated politically charged faculty conduct consistently, rather than whether Wax satisfied the technical comparator requirements of federal employment-discrimination law, Almallah becomes far more important. His Penn faculty page lists him as teaching ENGL 3010 in fall 2026. That does not establish that Penn never investigated, warned, or reprimanded him privately. It establishes that the alleged episode did not terminate his teaching relationship with Penn.

Huda Fakhreddine supplies the half of the comparison Almallah lacks. A January 9, 2026 Third Circuit opinion in Fakhreddine v. University of Pennsylvania identifies her as a tenured Penn professor of Arabic literature, a far stronger employment-status comparator to Wax than Almallah or Booth. Penn’s Middle Eastern Languages and Cultures department lists her as an associate professor. The opinion also records the public statements that later became the subject of congressional scrutiny. Fakhreddine wrote on October 7, 2023 that “while we were asleep, Palestine invented a new way of life.” The opinion recounts that at an October 16 rally she made additional statements about Israel and antisemitism and applauded another speaker whose remarks included telling Jews to return to various places, including Berlin. These characterizations do not come from Wax’s lawsuit. They appear in the factual history recited by the Third Circuit in Fakhreddine’s own litigation against Penn.

Fakhreddine also presents a student-facing allegation. The Yakoby amended complaint alleged that students in Arabic courses were required to attend portions of the Palestine Writes Literature Festival, held on Penn’s campus in September 2023, and alleged that Fakhreddine told her students attendance was mandatory. Judge Goldberg later summarized the complaint as alleging that Fakhreddine and Abdulrahman Atta required Jewish members of Students Against Antisemitism to attend the festival and penalized students who did not.

That allegation belongs alongside the materially different account offered by the Penn chapter of the American Association of University Professors. The AAUP chapter said students in some courses were required to attend a specified number of cultural events during the semester, could choose which part of Palestine Writes to attend, and could receive alternative assignments if they objected. The competing accounts make Fakhreddine more useful as a case study. They allow the allegation, the defense, and the limits of the public evidence to be separated instead of treating disputed accusations as established fact.

The resulting comparison goes beyond a claim that Penn protects one political coalition and punishes another. Almallah supplies the stronger alleged individualized student encounter and weaker employment equivalence, because he is non-standing faculty. Fakhreddine supplies the stronger tenure equivalence and weaker publicly established evidence of individualized mistreatment of a student. Neither reproduces the entire Wax pattern. Nobody yet identified combines tenure, repeated controversial public statements, individualized student-facing allegations, prior administrative warnings, recurrence after notice, and a comparable disciplinary history in a single person. That absence is a finding.

Dwayne Booth provides a sharper comparison in one respect, because Penn publicly explained why it would protect his speech. In a February 4, 2024 statement, Interim President J. Larry Jameson called the political cartoons that the Annenberg lecturer posted on his personal website “reprehensible, with antisemitic symbols.” Jameson stressed that the cartoons appeared on a personal website and were not taught in the classroom. He reaffirmed Penn’s commitment to open expression and academic freedom and the right of members of the university community to express views others might find loathsome.

That statement comes close to announcing a Penn limiting principle: even expression the university president considers reprehensible and antisemitic may remain protected when it is extramural and lacks a classroom nexus. Booth counts because Penn itself named the fact that protected him. The cartoons were outside the classroom.

Penn described Wax’s case very differently. Its September 24, 2024 final determination said the Faculty Hearing Board found that Wax had engaged in “flagrant unprofessional conduct” that denied students equal educational opportunity. Penn cited a history of sweeping derogatory generalizations about groups, her disclosure and continued discussion of student grades by race after being cautioned about confidentiality, and discriminatory or disparaging statements made inside the classroom, outside it, and in public. Penn’s theory was cumulative. It aggregated extramural speech with classroom behavior, student-related conduct, prior warnings, and the effect Penn believed the total pattern had on students’ confidence that Wax would evaluate them impartially.

The Booth comparison then acquires two further complications. First, Penn protected him under pressure. The Daily Pennsylvanian reported in September 2025 that documents concerning Pennsylvania Governor Josh Shapiro’s representative at Penn, Robert Fox, showed Fox considered Jameson’s defense of Booth inadequate and appeared to advocate Booth’s firing. Jameson and the Annenberg School refrained from firing Booth, who remained at Penn through the end of the 2024-25 academic year. Penn did not capitulate whenever politically powerful people demanded punishment of a left-wing faculty member.

Second, Booth left anyway. On March 19, 2025, Annenberg Dean Sarah Banet-Weiser told the school’s part-time lecturers that their contracts would not be renewed for 2025-26. A school spokesperson cited financial constraints and the termination of three federal grants. Booth told the paper his course had been canceled and blamed university capitulation to political threats over funding. The public record supports two readings and settles neither. A school that pauses every part-time lecturer contract at once has an obvious budgetary explanation available whatever else it wants. Anyone building the comparator case has to hold both possibilities open.

The harder question is why Penn compartmentalized Booth’s extramural expression while Wax’s extramural expression became part of an aggregated professional-conduct case. Penn has an answer. Booth’s cartoons were not taught in his classroom, while Penn’s case against Wax reached far beyond public commentary. The historical inquiry is whether Penn has applied that distinction consistently when other professors’ public speech becomes entangled with complaints about students or teaching.

Anthea Butler provides a pre-Wax control, because her controversy arrived before the institutional battle over Wax began. In 2015 Butler wrote on Twitter, “If only there was a ‘coon of the year’ award,” during a discussion widely understood to concern Republican presidential candidate Ben Carson. Butler disputed the interpretation that she had applied the epithet to Carson. The controversy generated extensive demands that Penn act against her. In a 2016 interview with Billy Penn, Butler said critics had called “every dean” and the president’s office and routinely contacted Penn demanding that the university get rid of her. She described Penn as supportive of her and emphasized the protection supplied by tenure.

The Butler comparison has a limit. One inflammatory and disputed tweet about a national political figure does not equal years of Wax statements combined with classroom complaints, student-grade confidentiality issues, repeated warnings, and the finding that students could reasonably question her impartiality. Butler is useful for a narrower proposition. Penn had a tenured professor whose extramural political speech generated national outrage, accusations of racism, and direct complaints to senior administrators. The public record does not show a comparable major-sanction proceeding. Her Penn career advanced. In 2021 Penn appointed Butler to the Geraldine R. Segal Professorship in American Social Thought, an endowed chair awarded to a nationally recognized scholar whose interests include human rights, civil liberties, and race relations. Penn’s religious studies department now lists her as emerita. Her arc ended in retirement.

So Butler cuts both ways. She supports the proposition that Penn has historically afforded substantial latitude to offensive extramural expression. She does not by herself demonstrate ideological favoritism, because the conduct was materially less extensive than Wax’s. Butler is a historical baseline.

The deeper methodological problem lies in the gap between Savage’s legal comparator test and the historical question. Savage applied ordinary employment-discrimination doctrine. To support an inference of discriminatory enforcement, Wax needed people sufficiently similar to her in employment status and misconduct. He therefore emphasized her years of statements, repeated complaints, prior restrictions and warnings, and disciplinary history when explaining why Booth, Almallah, Fakhreddine and the other proposed comparators were not similarly situated.

That reasoning may be appropriate for deciding whether Wax adequately pleaded a federal discrimination claim. It cannot answer whether Penn created the difference through its own earlier enforcement choices. Prior disciplinary history is partly endogenous to the institution whose consistency is under examination.

Imagine two professors who commit comparable first acts. Penn warns Professor A and does not warn Professor B. Both later commit another comparable act. Penn now treats A more severely because A has already been warned. Years later, B is rejected as a comparator because B lacks A’s disciplinary history. The legal conclusion follows from conventional comparator doctrine. It leaves untouched the historical question of whether the institution treated equivalent conduct equally at the beginning of the sequence. The apparently neutral distinguishing variable, prior disciplinary history, is partly a product of earlier decisions by Penn.

Wax’s own sequence shows where her clock starts. On August 9, 2017 she and Larry Alexander published an op-ed in The Philadelphia Inquirer calling for the restoration of bourgeois cultural norms. The law school compiled the faculty responses on its own website, including an open letter from thirty-three of her colleagues. Penn took no disciplinary action. Then a September 2017 video conversation with Brown economist Glenn Loury surfaced, in which Wax described the class rank of Black students in her required first-year course. On March 13, 2018, Dean Ted Ruger announced that Wax would no longer teach that course. He said she had spoken disparagingly and inaccurately about student performance and had transgressed the confidentiality of student grades. Ruger described that 2018 removal to the faculty senate chair in 2022 as the first restriction in a longer escalation.

Everything Penn later counted as Wax’s disciplinary history begins in those nineteen months. So the comparator question has a location and a date. What did Penn do when another professor reached the same point: one extramural publication that outraged a large part of the faculty, followed within a year by a second incident touching a course and the students in it?

The better test is therefore longitudinal. The relevant comparison runs stage by stage: Wax’s first controversial extramural statement against another professor’s first controversial extramural statement, her first student complaint against another professor’s first student complaint, her first alleged classroom problem against another professor’s first alleged classroom problem, her first administrative warning against what Penn did when comparable complaints reached administrators, and then repetition after notice against repetition after notice. Only after reconstructing the cases stage by stage does the final difference in sanctions become evidence of anything.

Penn’s own faculty rules add a complication, because much of the comparison may be invisible. The Faculty Handbook’s sanctions procedure distinguishes major sanctions from minor sanctions. Minor sanctions may include private or public letters of reprimand and monitoring of future research, teaching, or student supervision. After a minor sanction, a dean or the provost may publicize the fact. After a major sanction, the president must publish a statement in Almanac describing the case and its disposition.

The absence of a public disciplinary announcement therefore cannot establish that Penn did nothing. Almallah, Fakhreddine, Booth, Butler, or another professor could have received a private warning or minor sanction that never entered the public record. The defensible claim is narrower: no comparable completed major sanction has been identified in the public record for these professors. Wax’s proceeding became public in part because Penn classified and imposed major sanctions, which triggered mandatory publication. Any serious comparator study has to distinguish no public evidence of discipline from no discipline.

The strongest symmetry test may lie in Penn’s stated rationale for moving against Wax. In his January 18, 2022 statement, Ruger said Wax had repeatedly made derogatory public statements about the characteristics and abilities of many people who studied, taught, and worked at Penn. He said complaints asserted that students could not take her classes “without a reasonable belief that they are being treated with discriminatory animus.” Those complaints, he said, required a process capable of determining whether Wax’s conduct was adversely affecting her teaching and classroom activities.

Penn’s final Wax determination used similar reasoning. Provost John Jackson wrote that academic freedom should be broad and that teachers must conduct themselves in a manner conveying willingness to assess all students fairly. The Hearing Board, Penn said, had concluded that Wax’s conduct left many students understandably concerned that she could not and would not be an impartial judge of their academic performance.

That produces a more precise comparator question than asking whether another professor said something equally offensive. Did Penn employ the same inference when students belonging to other identity groups argued that professors’ public political or demographic statements gave them reason to fear biased treatment in class?

Fakhreddine makes that question difficult. The Third Circuit’s 2026 opinion recounts congressional questioning of Penn about whether Jewish students could expect fair treatment from Fakhreddine after her public statements. The argument resembles the rationale Penn treated as decisive in the Wax proceedings: public speech, followed by a claim that students reasonably doubt the professor’s ability to evaluate members of a particular group impartially. That does not establish that Fakhreddine should have been disciplined, nor that the accusations against her were accurate. It establishes a symmetry test that can be investigated using Penn’s own stated logic rather than an outside definition of offensiveness.

The Almallah allegations raise a related question, because they describe direct interaction with a Jewish student. The public record also shows that Penn did not ignore outside scrutiny of Almallah and Fakhreddine, who are married and whose cases have often moved through the university together. The Penn AAUP reported in 2024 that Penn informed both of them that a congressional committee had requested their curricula vitae, syllabi, course-wide communications, and communications relating to the Gaza Solidarity Encampment, Faculty for Justice in Palestine, and Palestine Writes. According to the AAUP account, Penn agreed to provide at least some of those materials. That evidence complicates any claim that Penn regarded allegations against them as beyond institutional concern.

The Yakoby litigation gives this inquiry continuing importance. Judge Goldberg’s June 2, 2025 opinion concluded that the plaintiffs had not adequately alleged that Penn acted with the deliberate indifference necessary for their Title VI claim, although he allowed an opportunity to amend parts of the case. His opinion emphasized that Penn had taken numerous steps in response to antisemitism complaints, including creating an action plan, task force, advisory group, and additional security measures. The court rejected the simple picture of a university doing nothing.

The dispute did not end there. According to a May 27, 2026 report in The Philadelphia Inquirer, a Third Circuit panel heard argument over whether the students’ antisemitism case should proceed. Their lawyer argued that Penn’s failures to enforce its rules left students insecure and deprived them of educational opportunities. Penn’s lawyer emphasized the university’s extensive remedial efforts. The panel did not issue a decision at the argument. The appellate fight bears on the Wax comparison because it may further develop the public record concerning what Penn knew, when administrators knew it, what remedies they chose, and how courts characterize the adequacy of those responses.

Wax’s own case is also unfinished. She filed her opening Third Circuit brief on January 15, 2026, arguing that Savage failed to accept her well-pleaded allegations as true on a motion to dismiss. Penn responded on March 18, 2026 that she had improperly introduced a retaliation theory she never preserved below. The comparator holding may not survive the appeal in its current form, and a reversal would put the same seven names back before a district court on a fuller record.

The emerging result is more useful than “Penn punishes conservatives and protects progressives.” That proposition is too easy to state and, on the present evidence, too strong to sustain. Savage was right that the seven people Wax named were poor comparators if the question is whether any one of them duplicated her employment status, pattern of speech, student-related conduct, warnings, and accumulated disciplinary history.

But Savage’s legal analysis leaves the institutional-history question open. Once the cases are decomposed into stages, four comparators become useful for different reasons. Almallah supplies the strongest publicly alleged individualized student encounter, and he lacks Wax’s standing-faculty status. Fakhreddine supplies tenure equivalence and a close parallel over whether public statements could cause students to doubt a professor’s impartiality, and the student-facing allegations against her are disputed and less individualized. Booth supplies Penn’s clearest public statement that even expression it considers reprehensible and antisemitic can remain protected when it is extramural and disconnected from teaching, along with a departure whose cause the public record does not settle. Butler supplies a pre-Wax control showing substantial institutional tolerance for a tenured professor’s inflammatory extramural racial speech despite complaints reaching senior administrators.

None of them alone proves that standards apply by coalition. Together they give that proposition a serious empirical test. The question is no longer whether another Penn professor can be found saying something appalling. The question is what Penn did at equivalent moments after comparable problems came to its attention. Who received the first warning? Whose public speech was treated as protected extramural expression? When did Penn infer from public statements that students might reasonably fear biased treatment? Which student complaints triggered formal inquiry? Which did not? Which professors were told that repetition would carry consequences? Which forms of teaching or student contact were restricted? And when controversial conduct continued after notice, did Penn escalate in a comparable way?

That is the comparator investigation capable of making or breaking the coalition thesis. It replaces anecdotal outrage with a sequence of institutional decisions. If the cases converge once employment status, classroom nexus, student complaints, prior notice, recurrence, and confidentiality violations are held reasonably constant, the selective-enforcement argument weakens. If materially similar conduct repeatedly produces different institutional responses at the same stage of escalation, the claim gets much stronger. Either outcome beats assembling quotations from professors on the opposite side of Amy Wax.

What does the case show about how much Wax is serving as her own lawyer and is that serving her?

Claude says:

Wax has counsel of record, including Samantha Harris, who does this work for a living. So the question is not literally whether she filed pro se. It is how much the litigation tracks her own public argument, and there the record says: closely.

The verified complaint is the tell. Verification is not required in federal court. She swore to the facts personally. That is a party taking ownership of a pleading.

She named Booth’s blood libel cartoon, Almallah’s rally chant, and Alekseyeva’s remark about the murdered UnitedHealthcare executive. Those are the examples she and her defenders had been using in public for a year. They work in an op-ed. They are vivid, quotable, and morally shocking, and they let the reader feel the asymmetry in a sentence. They are the wrong examples for a comparator pleading, which needs dull similarity in rank, duty, and conduct. The one fact that fit Penn’s own stated theory against her, the alleged Almallah classroom confrontation with a Jewish student who then complained to the administration, had been public since December 2023 and detailed since March 2024. She left it out in January 2025 and left it out again in the March 3, 2025 amendment.

Savage’s line captures it. He wrote that as much as Wax would like otherwise, this is not a First Amendment case. That is a judge telling a litigant she brought the case she wanted to argue.

There is a professional irony here. Wax argued fifteen cases in the Supreme Court as an Assistant to the Solicitor General. That is the most prestigious training available, and it is training in taking a record as given and building the strongest argument from it. Her problem in this suit was the opposite kind of problem. Pleading is about choosing which facts to put in front of a court and conceding the ones that hurt. Appellate habit produces a complaint organized around a thesis. Trial habit produces one organized around the elements. She got the first.

Then she doubled the pattern on appeal. Penn’s March 18, 2026 brief says she introduced a retaliation theory she never preserved below. An appellate specialist knows issue preservation better than almost anyone alive. Doing it anyway suggests the case is being steered by the argument she wants to make rather than by the record she built.

The order of her two lawsuits points the same way. The federal civil rights claim came first, in January 2025. It carries the thesis. The Montgomery County contract claim came second, in November 2025, after she lost. That one is narrow, procedural, unglamorous, and probably her better claim. Handbook language about what counts as a major infraction is the kind of thing that wins quietly.

Whether it serves her depends on what she is buying.

As litigation, it cost her. Savage dismissed the discrimination counts with prejudice and said there was nothing she could add. That is not a pleading defect. That is a judge rejecting the theory.

As advocacy, the accounting is better than it looks. She is suspended a year at half pay with tenure intact, so she has little to lose in damages. The suit generated a federal opinion that names Booth, Almallah, and Fakhreddine, kept the comparison alive for two more years, and put Penn’s conduct in front of the public. A quiet contract win would have vanished.

But she paid for that and did not have to. Savage’s opinion is now the authoritative public document about her, and it says she failed to allege facts showing discrimination. Courts get cited. Reporters read holdings. A complaint built stage by stage, starting with the 2017 op-ed and the March 2018 removal and asking what Penn did when other professors reached the same point, would have been both the stronger legal document and the stronger public one. She could have had both artifacts. She chose the one that says what she has been saying.

Based on the court documents, has Wax lost touch with reality?

Claude says:

Court filings are adversarial artifacts. They are written to win, they are drafted or at minimum signed by counsel, and they compress a person into a legal theory. Reading a mental state off a complaint is like reading a man’s character off his résumé. Samantha Harris signed these filings. A lawyer facing Rule 11 exposure does not sign a pleading from someone unmoored. Savage’s language is doctrinal. He said Wax failed to allege facts showing her race was a factor, and that the statutes protect speakers rather than speech. That is a judge rejecting a legal theory.

There is also affirmative evidence of intact reality-testing in the record. After losing in August 2025, she filed a narrow breach-of-contract suit in Montgomery County built on Faculty Handbook language about what counts as a major infraction. That is a sober, well-calibrated second move by someone who understood she had lost the big one. Her appellate brief argues that the district court failed to take her well-pleaded allegations as true on a motion to dismiss, which is the correct standard and a real argument, whatever its merits here.

What the record does show is a mismatch between the story she wants told and the test the law applies. She pleaded the examples that persuade an audience rather than the ones that satisfy a comparator analysis. She kept a theory the court had already rejected instead of rebuilding around Penn’s own stated rationale. On appeal she raised a retaliation argument she had not preserved. That pattern has a name, and it is motivated reasoning, which is universal among people who have argued a position in public for years and then find themselves inside a forum with different rules. It is the failure to imagine the adversary’s strongest response. Very intelligent people are worse at this than average, not better, because their fluency lets them talk past the objection.

Something else may be at work. She might not be trying primarily to win. A federal opinion that names Booth, Almallah, and Fakhreddine puts the comparison into the permanent public record in a way a quiet contract victory never could. If that was the goal, the filings look less like miscalculation and more like a trade she made.

I would also watch the phrase itself. “Lost touch with reality” is the accusation her opponents make, and picking it up as an analytic category imports their frame. The more defensible claim, and the one your material supports, is narrower: she litigated the case she has been arguing in public rather than the case the record gave her, and that choice cost her the counts that were dismissed with prejudice. That is a claim about judgment under adversarial conditions. It can be shown from the documents. The other cannot, and would be the kind of sentence you would not want to defend on the front page.

Posted in Amy Wax | Comments Off on The Comparator Test: Does Penn Apply the Same Standard?

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Prager University Foundation raised $76.57 million in 2025 and closed the year with $105.50 million in net assets. Contributions run about 95 percent of revenue. The foundation pays its chief executive more than a million dollars a year, has paid the founder’s company $3,573,626 since 2015, and pays the founder’s son more than half a million dollars a year. Those figures come off the e-filed returns, which anyone can pull from ProPublica’s Nonprofit Explorer.

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Marissa Streit was recruited by Dennis Prager and Allen Estrin to help launch the project, and PragerU now says she took the helm in 2011. The federal filings tell a slower story. The 2013 and 2015 returns list Estrin as chief executive officer and Streit as chief operating officer, and Estrin signed both returns over the printed word President while the same documents called him CEO in Part VII. Item F of the 2013 return names him principal officer, at 2325 Dulles Corner Boulevard in Herndon, Virginia, which is the office of Sterling Foundation Management, the firm run by board chairman Roger Silk. Streit becomes principal officer and chief executive with the 2016 return. Public leadership and filing title are two different records at this organization, and the gap between them runs through everything that follows.

Her base has sat near $738,000 since 2022, at $737,361 that year and $738,851 in 2024. On top of that comes a bonus the returns describe as based on annual revenues, estimated and accrued by December 31 and reconciled after the audit. The bonus was zero in 2019 and zero in 2020. Then $94,500 in 2021, $211,321 in 2022, $168,354 in 2023, $249,999 in 2024 and $249,999 in 2025. Her reportable compensation was $988,850 in 2024, her total package $1,022,373, and $1,031,315 in 2025. Two consecutive years landing one dollar under a round number point to a ceiling of $250,000. The returns disclose no ceiling. An earlier version of the arrangement did.

Candid, which publishes the standard reference on this question, drew its 2024 compensation report from the 2022 filings of more than 128,000 tax-exempt organizations. Among nonprofits with budgets above $50 million, median compensation ran $559,770 for male chief executives and $430,640 for female ones. The Chronicle of Philanthropy reported the full spread in that budget band: roughly $237,000 at the tenth percentile and above $1.5 million at the ninetieth. Streit sits in the upper stretch of that band, inside it.

Sal Khan founded Khan Academy, which does what PragerU does in a different key, free instructional video at scale. Khan Academy spent about $87.5 million in 2025 and Khan drew $871,000, according to an analysis of the filings by Class Central. Turning Point USA reported $85 million in revenue and paid Charlie Kirk about $390,000 in 2023, per Forbes. The Heritage Foundation, which holds $413.8 million in assets, paid president Kevin Roberts $953,920 in 2023, including a bonus of $300,300, as CharityWatch read out of Schedule J.

So PragerU pays its chief executive more than the Heritage Foundation pays its president, more than Khan Academy pays the man whose name is on it, and more than twice what Turning Point USA paid its founder. It also pays her within the going rate for a nonprofit of its size.

Scale it against the money coming in. Streit’s package equals 1.35 percent of 2025 revenue. Khan’s equals about 1 percent of Khan Academy’s spending. Kirk’s equaled about half a percent of Turning Point’s. Her own share has been falling as the organization grows. She took $205,000 against $5.34 million of revenue in 2016, which is 3.8 percent. In 2018 it was 2.1 percent. In 2025, 1.35 percent. The dollars rise and the fraction shrinks.

The staff grew faster than any of it. The count of people receiving more than $100,000 in reportable compensation, which sits on the last line of Part VII Section A, ran one in 2012, one in 2013, two in 2015, two in 2016, five in 2018, eight in 2019, twenty-one in 2020, thirty-six in 2022, forty-one in 2023, sixty-one in 2024 and eighty-one in 2025. A charity that started in a kitchen now carries a six-figure payroll the size of a mid-market network’s.

David Prager is chief development officer and Dennis Prager’s son. PragerU identifies him by that title on its own site. His total compensation ran $398,536 in 2020, when the return listed him as vice president for development, then $444,474 in 2021, $442,845 in 2022, $432,396 in 2023, $459,736 in 2024 and $523,616 in 2025. The 2024 Schedule J breaks that year into $385,041 of base and a $25,000 bonus. Before he came on payroll his firm Palm Tree Consulting received $155,700 in 2018 and $38,700 in 2019, both disclosed on Schedule L with the family relationship stated. Development chiefs are the best-paid non-chief-executive officers at large nonprofits, and PragerU turns donor cultivation into 95 percent of its income. Half a million dollars against $76.57 million raised is 0.68 percent of the money the job exists to bring in. The rate fits the job description. How a founder’s son moved from an outside related-party consulting arrangement onto the payroll, what process governed the hire, and what comparables the board used are questions the filings do not answer.

Then Kansas and Brooklyn, the company Dennis Prager owns, which received $150,000 in 2015, $200,000 in 2016, $250,000 in 2017, $237,500 in 2018, $301,667 in 2019, $382,913 in 2020, $462,083 in 2021, $493,333 in 2022, $375,000 in 2023, $446,130 in 2024 and $275,000 in 2025. Total, $3,573,626. Average, $324,875 a year. As a share of revenue it fell from 4.2 percent in 2015 to 0.36 percent in 2025.

The company is Prager’s personal-services corporation and it predates PragerU by more than a decade. The El Camino Community College District board of trustees approved a campus lecture by him for May 15, 2005 at a fee of $6,600, and its December 20, 2004 agenda directs the check to Kansas and Brooklyn, noting that Mr. Prager comes to campus to lecture students studying speech communications. A 2009 conference program book gives the company’s address as 26500 Agoura Road in Calabasas, the same address that later appears beside its name in PragerU’s contractor tables. Actors, hosts and writers have used loan-out corporations like this for decades. The performer sells his services to several buyers, the corporation collects the fees and pays him a salary while carrying his retirement plan and his business expenses. Under subchapter S he splits the income between salary and distribution and lowers his self-employment tax. The buyer skips payroll tax, benefits and workers compensation and writes one check against an invoice.

His rate through that company was $6,600 for a lecture in 2005. Hungarian reporting on a contract obtained through a public-records request puts two separate $15,000 fees from Mathias Corvinus Collegium in 2021, one for a speech and one for a podcast appearance. PragerU paid the same company $462,083 that year, roughly thirty appearances at his own going rate. Whatever the charity buys, it is not priced like the thing El Camino bought, and the returns never say what it is. Across eleven years they give one description: consulting services performed by Dennis Prager. No hours, no deliverables, no scope. He appears on camera, hosts the Fireside Chats, headlines the donor events and lends the name the organization is built on. Any of that is a plausible service. So is the use of his name, his likeness or his archives, and if the contract licenses those the organization would still be entitled to call it consulting on a Form 990.

Section 4958 asks whether an exempt organization has given an excessive economic benefit to a disqualified person directly or indirectly. The regulation counts all consideration exchanged between the parties and applies whether or not the amount is determined by the organization’s revenues. It also carries an initial contract exception that shelters fixed payments under a contract signed with someone who was not yet a disqualified person, which is the natural defense for a company that predates the charity by a decade. PragerU has never claimed it. Schedule J line 8 asks whether any Part VII amounts were paid under such a contract, and the answer is No in every year.

For 2015, 2016 and 2017 the payment showed up only as a line in the top-five contractor table, with the organization answering No to the Form 990 question about business transactions with interested persons and filing no Schedule L. Money paid to an employee lands in Part VII Section A with a title, an hours figure and a compensation column, and above the threshold it lands again on Schedule J split into base, bonus, other, deferred and nontaxable benefits. Money paid to a contractor lands in Part VII Section B as a name, an address, a phrase and a single number. For three years that single number was all a reader got.

The non-disclosure had a consequence in print. On August 22, 2019 the Los Angeles Times reported that PragerU’s growth had been lucrative for Prager, who it said had started collecting fees from the charity the previous year, and that filings showed $237,500 going to his consulting firm and $155,700 to his son for help with fundraising. By then Kansas and Brooklyn had taken $837,500 across four years. The paper read the first Schedule L, saw a related-party disclosure appear for the first time, and drew the reasonable inference that the arrangement was new. Streit was quoted in the same passage calling what Prager makes “negligible,” and saying that in a for-profit he would earn far more, because the organization is driven by impact. That year the foundation paid her $397,864, about 1.7 times what it paid his company. The Center for Media and Democracy published the four-year sequence five months later.

The disclosure begins with the 2018 return, the year Prager first appears in Part VII as President and Founder. Then the 2020 return moves three things at once. The Schedule L description changes from consulting services performed by Dennis Prager, founder and president, to consulting services performed by Dennis Prager, co-founder. He disappears from Part VII and has not reappeared through 2025. And the Schedule O explanation of how pay gets set, which in 2019 covered the chief executive and executive director, becomes determining compensation for the chief executive officer, executive director and founder. The board says it sets the founder’s compensation in the same return in which it stops listing him as an officer.

Follow the checkbox that carries the disclosure. Every return from 2018 through 2025 answers No to line 28a and Yes to line 28c, the question about an entity 35 percent owned by a person described in 28a. From the 2019 form onward, line 28a names creators and founders by those words. Since Prager left Part VII after 2019, founder status is the only category that can be carrying the Yes. PragerU has reached Schedule L through founder status for six straight years. That status already sat in the Schedule L instructions in 2015, 2016 and 2017, when the organization answered No. The printed checkbox on the face of the return in those years named only officers, directors, trustees and key employees, so a preparer had a narrow reading available. Two readings of the same form existed. PragerU took the narrow one, the IRS closed the gap with the 2019 form, and PragerU began disclosing a year before that.

The bonus arrangements have their own chronology and it runs in three acts. In 2016 both senior executives were paid flat. Allen Estrin, co-founder, listed as executive director at thirty hours a week, took $200,000 with no bonus. Streit took $205,000, also flat. Schedule J that year answered No to the question about pay contingent on revenues.

Two years later the answer is Yes and the formula is written down. The 2018 Schedule J says Streit receives 1.25 percent of fundraising with an annual amount not to exceed $400,000, and that chief marketing officer Craig Strazzeri receives 0.9 percent of online fundraising. Strazzeri had been hired for exactly that work, and Pepperdine introduced him in February 2018 as an expert in digital marketing, social media and online fundraising. A percentage set by contract with a stated ceiling counts as a fixed payment under the instructions for Schedule J, and the regulation agrees, giving the example of a performing arts chief executive paid a base plus 2 percent of season subscription sales above a threshold.

Do the arithmetic on that year. A bonus of $122,864 at 1.25 percent implies a fundraising base near $9.83 million, against total revenue of $18.60 million. So the word fundraising in her contract covers something narrower than everything the organization took in, and the return never defines it. Strazzeri’s $23,715 at 0.9 percent implies online fundraising near $2.64 million.

Act two is the shutdown. The 2019 Schedule J says Strazzeri received bonuses based on levels of online fundraising and that the structure was discontinued as of December 2019. Streit is not mentioned in that year’s explanation at all, and her bonus is zero. In the 2020 return the revenue-contingent line is answered No, her bonus is zero again, and her base jumps to $497,998. The organization ran a year with no revenue-linked executive pay of any kind.

Act three is the replacement, and it arrives without a published formula. By the 2022 return the revenue line is Yes again and Streit’s bonus is $211,321 on a base of $737,361. The explanation says she receives bonuses based upon revenues raised annually, that the compensation committee considers reasonableness while using compensation studies, and that the committee reviews each year’s bonus before it is paid out. The instructions draw a line worth knowing here. A bonus equal to a percentage of revenues goes on line 5 even if it also depends on hitting a target. A flat dollar amount paid only on hitting a target does not. PragerU keeps answering Yes, so the current arrangement is still a percentage calculation of some kind. A percentage calculation that lands on $249,999 two years running is a percentage with a ceiling, and the ceiling appears nowhere.

Something else has gone quiet. The line asking whether any compensation is contingent on net earnings is answered No in 2019 and 2022 and Yes in 2023, 2024 and 2025. The 2023 return explains it: the organization trialed a year-end bonus to staff, no officers included, based on PragerU net earnings. In 2024 and 2025 the answer stays Yes and the explanation is gone, though the instructions require a description in Part III. The 2023 return also said a minority portion of the chief marketing officer’s and chief financial officer’s year-end bonuses is tied to annual revenues, and that sentence is likewise gone from the two later returns. In 2024 the chief financial officer took a $116,000 bonus on a base of $349,517, for $497,870 in all. Since the non-fixed payment line is answered No, that bonus has to be covered by the revenue or net-earnings lines, and the only sentence that ever covered it was deleted. The same schedule discloses that C-level employees occasionally use first-class travel on long or red-eye flights and that the value is not included in their taxable compensation.

Revenue-linked pay to insiders has a body of law behind it. Section 4958 asks whether the total is reasonable. A charity earns a rebuttable presumption of reasonableness when a conflict-free body approves the arrangement in advance, obtains appropriate comparability data first, and documents the basis contemporaneously. The regulation is specific about the data. One example holds that a board relying solely on a national survey of university president pay, undivided by revenue, size or geography, has not obtained appropriate comparability data. Another example runs the other way and lets a board keep relying on the prior year’s independent survey once it determines that market conditions have not changed materially, so the 2025 return citing a September 2024 study is unremarkable. A third provision covers exactly this shape of arrangement, a capped bonus, and requires the comparability data to support the maximum payable counting base and bonus together.

PragerU cites compensation studies dated November 2018, November 2020, November 2022 and September 2024, and names neither the preparer nor the peer group. The timing raises a question the returns cannot answer. Streit’s reportable compensation was $669,500 in 2021, of which $94,500 was bonus, so her base was roughly $575,000. Her 2022 base is $737,361. The raise happened during 2022 and the study PragerU cites for that period is dated November 2022. The regulation requires the data before the determination. Which came first is in the minutes and nowhere else. Schedule J checks a box for an independent compensation consultant every year while Schedule O describes a professional and independent search firm. Those are different vendors doing different work, and neither is named.

Streit calls the organization an edu-tainment nonprofit, and its 2022 annual report told donors that PragerU competes for the same human capital sought by global media companies like Paramount and Disney. A board that believes it hires against commercial entertainment would rationally reject a peer set of conventional education charities. Whether the September 2024 study actually used media-company comparables, or whether Paramount and Disney are donor-facing language and the study benchmarks against nonprofits, is the single most useful thing anyone could learn about this organization’s governance.

The board has been shrinking throughout, from ten voting members in 2017 and 2018 to nine, then seven, then eight, and five in 2025.

One sentence changed in a way California law makes checkable. Through the 2022 return, Schedule O told readers that the foundation’s governing documents, including its bylaws, audited financial statements, federal Forms 990 and conflict of interest policy, are available to the public on request. From the 2023 return the audited financial statements are dropped from that list. Government Code section 12586(e) requires California charities above $2 million in revenue to prepare audited statements and make them available to the public.

Where the money goes is no mystery. The top of the contractor table is paid distribution. Facebook took $1,200,928 in 2018, $3,633,880 in 2019, $3,212,997 in 2020, $9,233,065 in 2022, $8,723,880 in 2023, $11,631,889 in 2024 and $12,353,874 in 2025. Google took $612,388, $3,173,229, $3,975,480, $7,028,439, $8,326,786, $10,545,412 and $8,057,879 across the same years. Fox News Network, X Corp at $1,575,000 in 2024, EKF Promotions, Givingtons and HSP Direct fill out the lists. This is a donor-funded audience acquisition operation with a video studio attached, and the family payments are a rounding error against the ad buy.

Its own returns also show what it pays for on-camera talent. In 2019 the top-five contractor table lists Candace Owens as presenter and show host at $445,626. Kansas and Brooklyn received $301,667 that year.

A hundred and five million dollars in net assets sounds like a war chest. Against $76.57 million of annual revenue it comes to about seventeen months of operating money, which sits inside what charity analysts treat as prudent.

The headline compensation figures are not outside the range large nonprofits produce. What invites investigation is the structure behind them: a chief executive whose bonus is calculated off revenue under a formula the public cannot see, a founder paid for more than a decade through his own corporation for services the returns never describe, a son who moved from related-party consultant to highly paid development chief, and compensation studies the filings invoke and never disclose.

The filings create an odd asymmetry. We know what the board wants the government to know, that outside experts and studies were used, that the committee approved the arrangements, that the amounts were treated as reasonable. We do not know the peer institutions, the formula now in force, the terms of the Kansas and Brooklyn contract, the services delivered under it, or the minutes recording who recused. Those are the facts that would let an outsider reproduce the board’s conclusion.

Marissa Streit runs the organization that carries Dennis Prager’s name, and the usual shorthand for her, chief executive of Dennis Prager’s nonprofit, understates what she did. Prager supplied the name, the worldview and the public legitimacy. Allen Estrin supplied the video concept. Streit built the institution that carries both, and PragerU’s growth from an online experiment with $523,785 in revenue in 2012 to $76.57 million in revenue and $105.50 million in net assets in 2025 is substantially her professional achievement.

She was born in Los Angeles around 1981, to an Australian father and a Moroccan mother who had met in Israel. Her parents divorced when she was seven and she moved to Israel with her mother, keeping her American ties through her father and sister. She has called Israel her spiritual homeland, and her mother worked on the integration of Moroccan Jews into Israeli society.

The story she tells about her own formation happened at Yad Vashem when she was thirteen or fourteen. She asked how the Holocaust could have happened without anyone stopping it. A docent told her that most people do not fight, or wait until it is too late, and rely on others to do the fighting. She has repeated that exchange for two decades, including in her own words to donors in a PragerU report, where she concluded that if we do not fight, we will lose everything. Her politics make more sense read through that sentence than through any party platform. She describes education, media, Big Tech, antisemitism and campus politics using one recurring structure: institutions are captured, ordinary people hesitate, and passivity in the presence of evil becomes a form of participation in it.

After the army she returned to Los Angeles at about twenty-one and went to UCLA, where she studied business and economics. She has said she made good money teaching Hebrew school while a student, because she spoke Hebrew and knew Israeli history, and that this was where she discovered she liked teaching. She later took a graduate degree from American Jewish University, which PragerU describes as a master’s in education and nonprofit management. The Jewish Journal reported her describing it as an MBA in nonprofit management. Those two descriptions have not been reconciled against the university’s record.

Streit says she taught kindergarten through eighth grade, with fourth and fifth her preferred years, then became an assistant administrator, then a school head, and started a preschool. She told The Guardian in 2026 that she was assistant principal at a parochial school in Los Angeles and then ran another school nearby for about four years. She declined to name either school, saying she did not want them subjected to political attack, and PragerU declined as well. The paper reported that it could not independently locate records of her teaching or administrative positions. Seven years earlier the Los Angeles Times had described her as headmistress of a Manhattan Beach school, and PragerU’s current biography says she led two Southern California schools. Her own account puts the headship somewhere around 2005 to 2009, in or near the South Bay, at a small religious school.

She says the schools radicalized her. She told the Los Angeles Times she was disturbed by low standards and by union protections, recalling colleagues telling her that a plumber could be fired and a bad teacher could not. Anti-Zionism and American coverage of Israel bothered her at the same time, and the two grievances converged into one: the institutions that form young minds were teaching what she believed to be false, while conservatives complained about it instead of building an alternative. She then spent under a year as director of operations at what became the Israeli-American Council, before PragerU.

The chronology of her arrival is muddier than it should be. The Los Angeles Times reported that Prager and Estrin recruited her to launch the group in 2009. PragerU’s own institutional history says the foundation was incorporated in 2010, the website launched in 2011, and Streit became its first employee that year, with the first headquarters in her kitchen. Her LinkedIn dates her tenure as chief executive to April 2011, and a 2019 PragerU booklet says she joined in 2011 and calls her CEO. The federal filings tell a slower story. The 2012 return lists Marissa Sharpe as chief operating officer at forty hours a week and $105,000. The 2013 return lists Marissa Streit in the same role at the same hours for $113,750, while Allen Estrin appears as chief executive officer and signs the return over the printed word President. Item F of that return names Estrin as the organization’s principal officer. The 2015 return still calls her chief operating officer, at $153,333. She first appears as chief executive, and as principal officer, in the 2016 return, at $205,000.

Streit recalls donors resisting the idea of spending heavily on short videos and resisting even harder the idea of paying to advertise them. Her answer was what she calls the Hollywood model. If Disney spends to market a film, why would an ideological nonprofit assume good arguments distribute themselves. Content without paid promotion, she told NPR, is a beautiful car with no gasoline, and she runs PragerU more like a business than a nonprofit. The returns bear her out. In 2025 the foundation paid Facebook $12,353,874 and Google $8,057,879. Across 2018 through 2025 those two platforms took more than $80 million of donor money. Streit turned donations into advertising, advertising into audience, audience into proof of influence, and influence back into donations. It is direct-response marketing applied to ideas, and it is the single most consequential decision in the organization’s history.

Prager tells donors that Streit and Estrin run the place day to day while he supplies the values and the content. She also saw early that depending on other people’s platforms was dangerous, and after years of fights over restricted and demonetized videos she pushed PragerU toward channels it owns: an app, an email list, its own player. By 2023 she was claiming more than a million app downloads and two million new email subscribers in a year, figures that come from PragerU rather than from any audit.

Then came the move from media company into schools. She launched PragerU Kids, Florida approved the material as a supplemental classroom resource in 2023, and other states followed; PragerU now claims partnerships with twelve. NPR obtained emails showing that the donor David Blumberg introduced Streit to Florida education commissioner Manny Diaz Jr. in January 2023 to discuss exactly that. Historians and climate scientists have argued that the material blurs advocacy and instruction. Her answer is a market argument rather than a claim of neutrality. Children already receive an overwhelmingly left-of-center account, she says, and PragerU offers an alternative; she told the Washington Post that she is not claiming anyone should use only PragerU. She does not appear embarrassed that her organization has a worldview. She rejects the premise that the schools it competes with lack one. By 2025 she was arguing in The Daily Wire for abolishing the federal Department of Education.

She has been building a public identity alongside the institution. Real Talk with Marissa Streit launched in 2022 and now runs to more than 170 weekly episodes across education, Israel, geopolitics, health and culture. That role grew after Dennis Prager’s spinal injury in November 2024, when she became the organization’s voice on his condition and, increasingly, its public face. The injury also demonstrated how far she had already separated the institution from the man. Contributions rose in 2025 rather than collapsing. The 2025 annual report describes a new Leadership Council of thinkers assembled to preserve what it calls the same moral clarity Dennis has always championed, which is an attempt to convert a personality into a governing tradition. She began as the operator who distributed Dennis Prager. She is becoming the person who decides what counts as Dennis Prager.

A June 2014 federal campaign filing records a $500 contribution from Streit listing her employer as the Milstein Foundation and her occupation as executive director, three years into her PragerU tenure. Merona Leadership Foundation, created in 2014 with Gila Milstein as president, is reported to list Streit as secretary on its 2015 and 2016 returns, without compensation. Over the same period the Adam and Gila Milstein Family Foundation was underwriting PragerU videos such as “The Middle East Problem” in April 2014, “BDS: The Attempt to Strangle Israel” that July, and “Is the UN Fair to Israel?” that September. Estrin’s line about her early days, that she was a general without an army, reads differently once you can see where some of the army came from.

Her ideas have been flat while her scale has grown. There is no early, middle and late Streit in the sense of conversions. The themes hold: identification with Israel, distrust of unionized public schooling, confidence in markets, fear of ideological conformity, and a conviction that conservatives lose because they argue well and distribute badly. What changed is ambition. First she wanted to fix a school. Then to make five-minute lessons. Then to advertise them to millions. Then to own the pipes. Then to publish books, lesson plans and children’s programming, and to get them adopted by states.

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The David Pinsof Story

My favorite intellectual over the past year is David Pinsof who’s had an odd career in contemporary psychology. He is an evolutionary social scientist at UCLA, a co-creator of Cards Against Humanity, the author of the Substack Everything Is Bullshit, a podcaster, a musician, and the developer of increasingly ambitious theories about political alliances, status, signaling, friendship, humor, and the stories we tell about our own motives. UCLA’s Social Minds Lab identifies him as a research scientist. A UCLA Library announcement for a 2025 event on his work called him a postdoctoral scholar.

Pinsof read a draft of this essay and answered by email on September 1, 2026, with corrections and updates that appear throughout.

The commercial success of Cards Against Humanity gave Pinsof income independent of the university. In a long 2026 interview with Zach Elwood, Pinsof said the game’s success freed him from the academic imperative to publish constantly, to optimize his work for obtaining a faculty position, and to choose projects according to their status on the academic labor market. He has acquired something like intellectual tenure without holding an academic tenure line. That explains both the freedom and the oddity of his oeuvre.

Pinsof grew up in Highland Park, Illinois, on Chicago’s North Shore. The future creators of Cards Against Humanity knew one another at Highland Park High School and graduated in 2005. A Daily Iowan profile published May 12, 2009 identified Pinsof as 21 years old.

Nothing in that 2009 profile suggests a young man who had decided to become an evolutionary psychologist. Pinsof was graduating from the University of Iowa with a double major in psychology and theatre arts. He was considering acting in Chicago or Los Angeles and mentioned theatre education. His undergraduate record holds another clue to the breadth of his interests. The University of Iowa Center for New Music lists a composition by David Pinsof called “Half Step”, performed in May 2008. Pinsof told me it was played at a composition seminar because his instructor’s girlfriend was a good enough pianist to perform it.

The music runs further back. In high school Pinsof played guitar in a band called Modus Operandi with Ben Hantoot and Eli Halpern, two of the friends who went on to create Cards Against Humanity with him. Their album Higher Shapes came out in 2005, the year they graduated, and a second, The Mourning After, followed in 2007. Pinsof later wrote the theme for Evolutionary Psychology (the Podcast) and scored short films made by his wife Annah Feinberg, who works in the entertainment industry. He has a body of unreleased music made with one of the bandmates that the two of them set aside for Cards Against Humanity, and he says a solo album sits on his bucket list. He doubts the music fits the story told here and calls it something he finds inherently enjoyable.

In 2007 Pinsof wrote a ten-minute comedy called “The Bond They Shared,” performed in Iowa’s undergraduate play festival and still sold by Heuer Publishing, about three men whose shared obsession with James Bond is failing to hold their friendship together. Two decades before he began using game theory to ask why friendships form, persist, and dissolve, he was writing comedy about three men trying to keep one alive. Pinsof’s later work is preoccupied with audiences, performance, impression management, social perception, hidden intentions, and the gap between a man’s presentation and the machinery underneath it. The young actor and the mature theorist were drawn to related problems years before Pinsof had the evolutionary vocabulary he would later use to describe them. He eventually said so. Looking back on two years of the blog in July 2025, he referred to “the no-bullshit character I play.” The acting student built a public character and delivered the theory through it.

The other formative institution was a group of high-school friends. Josh Dillon, Daniel Dranove, Eli Halpern, Ben Hantoot, David Munk, David Pinsof, Max Temkin, and Eliot Weinstein kept meeting during college vacations after leaving Highland Park. They developed a deliberately transgressive party game that became Cards Against Humanity. The project went onto Kickstarter in December 2010 seeking $4,000 and raised $15,570. Kickstarter later published a case study of the game’s early success.

A Chicago magazine profile from 2014 described the eight founders as equal participants who kept making decisions together while pursuing other careers. Pinsof was then in graduate school in Los Angeles. The article caught him joining the others remotely to brainstorm jokes.

The card game produced serious money while he pursued his doctorate. He stayed with Cards Against Humanity part time, including data analysis and play-testing, while conducting psychological research. The arrangement has persisted. Commercial comedy, academic research, and public writing have run as simultaneous occupations, and the game gave him a second institution from which the university could be optional.

Pinsof says comedy and psychology appeal to him for the same reason. Both require getting inside other people’s heads. Writing Cards Against Humanity also taught him a prose style. It rewarded short, provocative, cynical formulations that delivered an uncomfortable thought before the audience had time to protect itself from it. Years later he imported that voice into Everything Is Bullshit.

This helps explain why Pinsof does not sound like most research psychologists. The tone was developed commercially, in a game that requires one player to predict what another will find funny, transgressive, or surprising.

Pinsof entered UCLA and earned an M.A. in social psychology in 2015 and a Ph.D. in psychology in 2018. His dissertation, Evolutionary Origins of Political Ideology: Mating Strategies, Intergroup Conflict, and the Nature of Political Alliances, contains a curriculum vitae documenting his Iowa degree, UCLA training, publications, and works in progress. His graduate formation combined psychology with biological anthropology. His dissertation committee brought together Martie Haselton, Aaron Lukaszewski, H. Clark Barrett, and David O. Sears. Haselton chaired it. The committee reads as a map of his subsequent thinking. Haselton and Lukaszewski brought evolutionary psychology, Barrett evolutionary anthropology, and Sears political psychology.

The dissertation title captures a transition inside the work. Pinsof began with narrow questions about sexual politics and ended by asking whether political ideology had been misunderstood.

His first substantial publication, with Haselton, appeared in Psychological Science in 2016. “The Political Divide Over Same-Sex Marriage: Mating Strategies in Conflict?” proposed that opposition to same-sex marriage could partly reflect conflict between different sexual strategies. People averse to casual sex were likely to oppose same-sex marriage when they associated homosexuality with promiscuity. UCLA publicized the study under the headline “Why people oppose same-sex marriage.”

Pinsof and Haselton followed in 2017 with “The Effect of the Promiscuity Stereotype on Opposition to Gay Rights” in PLOS ONE. This time they varied what participants were told about gay male promiscuity. Among participants disinclined toward casual sex, information challenging the stereotype increased support for gay rights.

Pinsof doubted that people’s stated moral reasons explain their politics. A man might say his position follows from principle while the disposition that makes the principle attractive comes from another social interest.

That proposition put him into an early argument with Mark Hoffarth and John Jost. Hoffarth and Jost pointed to sexual minorities who opposed same-sex marriage as evidence that ideology can override apparent self-interest. Pinsof and Haselton answered in “When Self-Interest Contradicts Ideology: A Reply to Hoffarth and Jost.” The reply contains Alliance Theory in embryo. A conservative gay man, they suggested, might oppose same-sex marriage to show solidarity with fellow conservatives or Christians, to uphold principles that serve his group, or to conform to coalition norms. Where Jost saw ideology defeating self-interest, Pinsof moved the interest up a level, from the individual to the alliance. Everything he later built follows from that move. Self-interest need not mean immediate personal material advantage. Loyalty to allies, communities, religious groups, and political coalitions supplies powerful motives of its own.

Pinsof was also a coauthor with Tran Dinh, Steven Gangestad, and Haselton on “Cycling on the Fast Track: Ovulatory Shifts in Sexual Motivation as a Proximate Mechanism for Regulating Life History Strategies.”

The abortion work shows how slowly Pinsof develops an idea. At the Human Behavior and Evolution Society conference in 2016, Pinsof and Haselton presented “Pro-Life or Anti-Promiscuity? The Role of Mating Strategies in Opposition to Abortion.” The HBES program describes a study of 855 participants asking whether abortion opposition ran especially strong among people pursuing more restricted mating strategies when they believed abortion restrictions would discourage casual sex.

A descendant of that project did not surface as a major paper until 2026. Elias Acevedo, Pinsof, Jaimie Krems, and Haselton released the preprint “Concerns about Sexual Promiscuity Play an Underexplored Role in Opposition to Abortion,” now based on four studies and 3,631 participants, including data from before and after Dobbs and a nationally representative panel. It remains a preprint.

His dissertation shows that this long gestation is normal for him. Its vita listed several manuscripts then in preparation, including “Pro-Life or Anti-Promiscuity?”, “Why Politics Makes Strange Bedfellows,” and “Equality for All, or for My Allies?

By 2018 Pinsof was presenting Alliance Theory in public. At that year’s Human Behavior and Evolution Society meeting he presented “Double Standards of the Political Mind: Empirical Support for the Alliance Theory.” The conference program describes an analysis using polling data from 1,215 Americans. The data came from Pulse of the Nation, the survey project described below. Pinsof examined cases where Democrats and Republicans appeared willing to reverse general principles depending on which political coalition benefited from applying them.

The following year he presented “Equality for All, or for My Allies?” The 2019 HBES program records the presentation, while the dissertation gives the fuller analysis using the 2016 American National Election Studies sample of 4,271 respondents. The dissertation chapter pits Alliance Theory against accounts emphasizing egalitarianism, social dominance, moral foundations, and system justification.

There is a publication-history problem here. Neither the 1,215-person double-standards analysis nor the ANES study exists as a standalone peer-reviewed journal article. They appear in conference programs and, in the second case, the dissertation. Pinsof told me that some of the double-standards results reached the record through “Strange Bedfellows,” that he has never written a paper reviewing them, that he doubts they would fill one, and that he lacks the patience to try, though a few scholars have offered to take the lead. The ANES chapter has a better prospect. He is now working with Elias Acevedo, a doctoral student he co-advises with Jaimie Krems and Martie Haselton, to replicate and extend the findings for publication. Until that appears, some of Pinsof’s most pointed empirical attempts to separate the theory from competing explanations remain outside the ordinary journal literature.

The mature statement appeared with David O. Sears and Martie Haselton in Psychological Inquiry in 2023 as “Strange Bedfellows: The Alliance Theory of Political Belief Systems.” The title Pinsof had listed among manuscripts in preparation in 2018 had taken about five more years to become the published article.

Pinsof, Sears, and Haselton argue that political belief systems are largely constructed from historically contingent alliances. Parties bring together groups whose interests do not derive from a single philosophy. Advocates then build narratives and moral principles that make the coalition’s positions look coherent. Change the alliance structure and the apparent ideological logic changes with it. The paper’s symmetry claim is narrower than its reputation. The authors posit a psychological equivalence between liberals and conservatives in alliance-serving cognition, reject any moral equivalence, since the same psychology does more harm when more vulnerable groups get classed as enemies, and allow that other psychological asymmetries between the sides may exist.

Psychological Inquiry was the right venue because it surrounds a target article with commentaries. The reactions exposed where the argument becomes controversial. Ariel Malka and Christopher Federico argued in “Political Belief Systems Are Not Singularly Rooted in Alliance Psychology” that political belief systems cannot be reduced to alliance psychology, that stable dispositions and values constrain which positions fit together, and that the theory needed a test in which alliances and dispositions compete. Nichola Raihani and Quentin Atkinson argued in “It’s More Complicated Than That: Alliances Are One of Many Factors Shaping Political Belief Systems” that alliances constitute one causal influence among several. Yoav Ganzach and colleagues went further in “Political Ideology is Not Meaningfully Explained by Alliances and is Not Inconsistent with Attitudinal Inconsistencies.” The entire issue is a symposium on the scope and limits of Pinsof’s theory.

David Pietraszewski granted the premise and asked what follows. His commentary, “Seven Grand Challenges for Evolutionary Political Psychology or: Political Ideologies as Ad-Hoc Alliances… So What?”, posed seven challenges a predictive evolutionary political psychology would still have to meet once it accepted that ideologies are coalition bundles. The question goes past whether Pinsof has identified inconsistency and asks what the theory buys with the insight. Pinsof, Sears, and Haselton wrote in reply that they found the seven challenges challenging. Peter DeScioli of Stony Brook agreed that alliances belong at the foundation of political psychology and then turned the claim around. In “The Dangers of Alliances Caused the Evolution of Moral Principles,” he argued that impartial moral rules evolved as a way to choose sides in conflicts without the hazards of choosing by alliance. Where Pinsof looks behind moral principles and finds coalitions, DeScioli looks behind them and finds machinery built to restrain coalitions. The two readings agree on the data and disagree on what morality is for, and the disagreement is the sharpest one the theory has drawn.

Antoine Marie and Michael Bang Petersen were more sympathetic but argued that status competition deserved a larger role. Their commentary, “Speech Repression and Outrage from Orthodox Activists as Attempts to Mobilize Allies and Gain Status,” reads well in retrospect because status soon became central to Pinsof’s own public theory.

Pinsof, Sears, and Haselton answered the critics in “The Strange Epicycles of Political Psychology.” The reply offers something close to a falsification criterion: alliances and rivalries, measured independently of ideological labels, should strongly predict political beliefs and votes.

John Jost’s 2024 “Both-Sideology Endangers Democracy and Social Science” addresses the larger dispute and never names Pinsof. Jost attacks arguments in political psychology that emphasize psychological symmetry between political camps. Pinsof’s account operates on that terrain because Alliance Theory expects each coalition to produce self-serving principles and selective moral judgments.

Social psychologist Mark Brandt responds to my email on Sep. 3, 2026:

Generally speaking, the challenge is separating alliances from shared worldviews. It is likely the case that we develop alliances because we share worldviews and we might also develop our worldviews because we share alliances. This is the case for an individual and their psychology, but also as a society and political system. In a more immediate way, we also infer worldviews from people’s alliances and we infer alliances from people’s worldviews.

That means that a successful experiment would find ways to pull these things apart, or to identify where they conflict with each other. I think this is challenging, but is in principle possible. As a quick example, one might investigate what happens when a person or group who typically shares both alliance and worldview stops sharing one of those factors (but keeps the other). It might also be possible to create minimal groups (i.e. they share no history/information) and see if people are more positive about those they share an alliance with vs their worldviews. In both of these examples, the devil is in the details.

The network ideas find that people’s identification with political parties and labels (e.g., “liberal”) are most central on average. This might be supportive of alliance theory. At the same time, issue positions relevant to groups (e.g., immigration policy) are not necessarily the most central on average, which might speak against alliance theory. A lot hinges on what constructs alliance theory believes measure alliances.

Lastly, I’m not sure I’d say that I personally disagree or not with David and alliance theory. The theory might well be right. My points are more about what other perspectives might predict and whether they are distinguished from alliance theory. We’ll see what the data from the Toronto study says.

I email Yoav Ganzach:

Your 2023 commentary was the most categorical in the Psychological Inquiry issue. Two questions. What empirical result would persuade you that Pinsof is right about the priority of alliances over dispositions? And has anything published since 2023, including the reply to commentaries, moved you in either direction? Pinsof tells me a preregistered study pitting alliances against dispositions is underway at the University of Toronto; I would welcome your view on what such a study would need to show.

He responds:

My critique of Pinsoff theory is not that it is incorrect. It is that it is dull.

First, roughly speaking, the model underlying the theory is: interests–>alliances–>ideology, which can be abbreviated as: interests–>ideology. But what’s new in that? (see for example Marlxist theory or rational choice theory and even dissonance theory).

Second, Alliance also explain alliance by “similarity”. However, since people may be similar in many ways, in order to be meaningful, Alliance theory must make a distinction between significant and insignificant similarities, and this is something it does not do. In fact, the most natural types of similarities that may lead to alliances are similarities in values and beliefs (i.e., dispositions).

I would very much like to hear your view about this critique.

I reply:

That is sharper than the commentary title let on, and “dull rather than wrong” is the objection I most wanted someone to make, because it is the one a theory cannot answer by adding studies.

On your first point, here is where I land. I agree that interests to ideology is old. What I think Pinsof adds is the middle term, and it does work only if you keep it. Marx’s coalitions were supposed to follow from class and did not. Rational choice cannot get anyone to the polls. Pinsof’s coalitions are contingent, and the theory predicts that when a coalition realigns, its members reverse principles within a few years without any change in interests or personality. The trade, Russia, and free-speech reversals since 2016 look like that prediction coming true. Marx would not expect a principle to flip in four years, and dissonance theory has nothing to say about which behavior a coalition demands. So I think the abbreviation drops the part that predicts. Whether Pinsof has done enough with that part is a fair question, and I would put it to him.

On your second point I think you are right, and I would like to represent it as the strongest objection the theory has drawn. If allies are picked by similarity and the theory does not say which similarities count, values are the obvious candidate and dispositions come back through the side door. The only escape I can see is for Pinsof to commit to the evolutionary version: the similarities that matter are the ones that predict side-taking in a conflict, kinship, proximity, cheap and hard-to-fake markers, and a record of past loyalty, with values downstream. Pietraszewski’s work on race as a coalition cue would be his evidence. That commits him to a prediction, that alliances built on side-taking markers reshape values while alliances built on shared values fail when the markers pull the other way. If he will not commit to it, your objection stands and the theory has no independent variable.

Two questions, if you have time. Would you accept “similarities that predict side-taking” as a repair, or do you think it still smuggles values in? And Pinsof tells me a preregistered study at the University of Toronto will pit alliances against dispositions; if alliance were measured by network and demography rather than by values, would you regard the result as bearing on your critique?

Pinsof has kept trying to give the alliance idea more formal structure. At HBES in 2025 he presented “Whose Side Are You On? The Evolutionary Game Theory of Alliances.” The conference program shows him moving from verbal descriptions of partisan inconsistency toward evolutionary game theory and the formal problem of alliance formation. The talk sat in a session on theory building alongside Daniel Conroy-Beam’s “We Need to Formalize Theory in Evolutionary Psychology,” so the turn is a movement inside the field as well as inside one man. This may decide the future of the project. A theory that generates mathematical predictions stands in a stronger scientific position than a theory that redescribes political behavior after it occurs.

Another institution connected Pinsof’s commercial and scholarly lives. Cards Against Humanity created Pulse of the Nation, a project conducting nationally representative surveys of American opinion. The project says twelve polls were conducted in 2017 and 2018 using scientific sampling through Survey Sampling International, with data and cross-tabs released publicly. Pinsof served as its director and wrote the questions. He says the poll’s one requirement was that the questions be funny, and since double standards are funny, he used the slot to test predictions from the Alliance Theory he was then developing. It is almost a caricature of his peculiar career: a party-game company financing public-opinion research supervised by one of its founders, who was at the same time developing a theory of political belief, and who smuggled his hypotheses into the field under cover of a joke.

The company went through a serious workplace controversy in 2020 centered on allegations about cofounder Max Temkin and the company’s internal culture. Temkin stepped down. The company acknowledged failures and announced changes. One contemporary account is available here.

The decisive year in Pinsof’s development was 2023.

A preprint of what became “The Evolution of Social Paradoxes” was circulating that year. Its preprint history lets us trace the paper before journal publication. That same March Pinsof began Everything Is Bullshit. “Strange Bedfellows” was circulating in the same period before journal publication. The academic work and the public philosophy developed together.

Pinsof has said that Everything Is Bullshit grew out of emails he wrote to himself arguing against claims that seemed obviously true to everyone else. UCLA later profiled him in a piece on academics who had migrated to Substack and described the audience around him as a “global gathering of Darwinist cynics.” The UCLA profile shows the university recognizing the Substack as part of Pinsof’s intellectual identity.

The blog contained twenty posts in 2023, twelve in 2024, ten in 2025, and six through August 18, 2026. The annual archives are available for 2023, 2024, 2025, and 2026. Forty-eight essays in under three and a half years make an oeuvre, and the falling rate has a stated cause. In his second-anniversary post Pinsof wrote that the blog had been a passion project on which he had taken no money, that he had lately felt demotivated, and that it was hard to justify the time when he had more serious work to do. He opened paid subscriptions with that post. Sidestack lists the newsletter at more than seven thousand free subscribers.

The early titles establish the territory at once: “Happiness Is Bullshit,” “The Meaning of Life Is Bullshit,” “What Are Ideologies All About?”, “Psychologizing Psychologists,” “Status Is Weird,” “Opinions Are Bullshit,” and “Your Fear of Mortality Is Bullshit.” The common move is a search for function. Pinsof starts with the explanation people consciously give for a behavior and asks what evolved social function might sit underneath it.

Status Is Weird” is a key text. Humans seek status, Pinsof argues, but seeking it in the open discredits the seeker. Effective status competition has to disguise itself. Humility, authenticity, moral conviction, independence, and professed indifference to status all become ways of gaining status. The most effective competitor may experience himself as a man who is not competing.

Pinsof suggests that successful social signaling may require the motive to be hidden from the man doing the signaling. The conscious story need not be a deliberate fraud. That idea has a pedigree running through Robert Trivers on self-deception and Robert Kurzban’s Why Everyone (Else) Is a Hypocrite.

The same idea became the backbone of “The Evolution of Social Paradoxes,” published online by American Psychologist in February 2026 after several years as a preprint. Pinsof examines paradoxical signals such as humility, conspicuous disregard for norms, and anonymous generosity. His central engine is recursive social inference. A signal can lose value when observers know the sender intended it as a signal. That creates incentives to communicate desirable qualities while concealing the signaling intention. UCLA had already hosted Pinsof discussing the theory in a 2024 colloquium.

Pinsof did not discover concealed signaling. Nick Feltovich, Rick Harbaugh, and Ted To modeled countersignaling in 2002, the rich man who dresses down and the expert who skips his credentials, and Moshe Hoffman, Christian Hilbe, and Martin Nowak modeled anonymous giving and modesty as signal burying in 2018. Pinsof cites both. His claim is recursive. Once observers can infer the intention to advertise a trait as well as the trait, the intention becomes damaging information, and signals turn into cues, cues expose motives, and motives have to go underground again. The economists’ models are stable when everyone knows the game. Pinsof’s paradoxes collapse when the game becomes common knowledge. That is the difference, and it is his.

Pinsof’s distinctive territory lies in the recursion. We compete to demonstrate that we are not competitive. We seek approval by displaying indifference to approval. We signal that we are not signaling. A man can gain status by making the status game disappear from view.

That recursive structure explains why the theatre student, the card-game designer, and the psychologist increasingly look like the same person. Each occupation depends on understanding what one mind thinks another mind thinks about it.

Pinsof is now trying to write the recursion down as mathematics. He shared with me the abstract of a paper in progress, tentatively titled “Human Status-Seeking as 4D Chess,” that models how each level of mindreading changes the game of status competition. At the first level, caring about others gets inferred and rewarded. At the second, status-seekers anticipate the inference and pretend to care. At the third, observers see through the pretending and penalize it. At the fourth, the seekers anticipate the penalty and pretend to be unpretentious, which produces the social paradoxes of the American Psychologist paper. The result is an arms race between pretentious signalers and cynical audiences. Pinsof argues the pretenders won, because fifth-order mindreading is too expensive to run and because being charmed by a skilled mindreader who is about to rise in status pays for itself. The paper promises accounts of charisma, authenticity, humility, performativity, and sacred values, and closes by adapting Dobzhansky: nothing in status psychology makes sense except in light of recursive mindreading. The 2023 preprint already invoked recursive mentalizing and common knowledge, so the mathematics is a reconstruction of an argument three years old, and the test of the formalism is whether it forced him to narrow anything. Whether the model survives reviewers remains to be seen. Pinsof says the humor paper carried heavy formalism too and that reviewer comments are pushing much of it into an appendix or out of the paper.

By 2024 the blog was acquiring its own conceptual vocabulary. “30 Useful Concepts about Bullshit” defined ideas such as “Darwinian cynicism,” self-bullshitting, confabulation, and Alliance Theory. Pinsof was no longer writing provocative essays one at a time. He was building a general interpretive framework. He later converted much of the essay into an extended X thread, preserved by Thread Reader.

The framework kept expanding. Political ideology became coalitional strategy. Morality became a possible signaling technology. Authenticity became useful because manufactured authenticity fails. Happiness became an evolved regulatory signal. Utilitarianism became another intellectual system requiring psychological explanation. Arguments became social acts. AI doom became a case study in mistaken folk intuitions about intelligence. Democracy became an incentive system producing coalition behavior.

The titles run more extreme than the essays. “Democracy Is Bullshit” does not advocate abolishing democracy. Pinsof argues that democratic systems generate tribalism, rent-seeking, and perverse incentives while still producing outcomes preferable to autocracy. The rhetoric stays maximalist because maximalism is part of the Cards Against Humanity inheritance. The argument underneath has grown more qualified.

Happiness Is Bullshit” offers a case study in both Pinsof’s ingenuity and his scientific vulnerability. His later “Happiness Is Bullshit Revisited” acknowledges that the original essay was among his most controversial. He develops the idea that happiness functions as something like a positive prediction-error signal, telling an organism that circumstances are improving relative to expectation.

The difficulty is that evolutionary function and conscious motive sit at different explanatory levels. Explaining why natural selection built a capacity for happiness does not show that a man cannot desire happiness. An ultimate evolutionary explanation can coexist with a proximate psychological one. Pinsof sometimes moves too fast from “this system evolved because it performed function X” to “the reason people say they pursue Y is bullshit.”

That belongs to a larger scientific problem. Pinsof is good at generating hidden-motive explanations. A framework that can accommodate every possible observation tells us less.

A person boasts. Status seeking.

A person acts humble. Concealed status seeking.

A person follows the crowd. Coalition maintenance.

A person rebels against the crowd. Status through independence.

A person admits craving status. Strategic candor.

A person denies craving status. Successful concealment.

Constructing a plausible evolutionary story for each behavior is easy. The challenge is specifying an observation that would show the story is wrong.

The Evolution of Social Paradoxes” counts partly because Pinsof begins doing this. Instead of declaring humility a hidden status strategy, he tries to specify the information conditions under which concealed signals should work and fail. His evolutionary game-theory work on alliances is another attempt to produce constraints.

Pinsof is alert to the reflexive problem. If intellectuals are status seekers constructing flattering rationalizations, then the man becoming famous for exposing them is an intellectual seeking status. Everything Is Bullshit cannot exempt its author from its own theory.

That is why “A Big Misunderstanding,” published in December 2025, ranks with “Status Is Weird.” Pinsof argues that intellectuals exaggerate how much social dysfunction results from ignorance, misinformation, bias, and misunderstanding. That diagnosis conveniently makes the people who manufacture knowledge indispensable. Pinsof wants us to look harder at incentives, status, alliances, competition, and institutional structure.

The essay drew a serious response from Dan Williams titled “We Are Confused, Maladapted Apes Who Need Enlightenment.” Williams agreed with much of Pinsof’s incentive-centered picture but argued that evolutionary mismatch, technological novelty, and human ignorance give knowledge-producing institutions a much larger role than Pinsof allows. Modern humans confront problems of nuclear weapons, financial markets, pandemics, and artificial intelligence that ancestral intuitions were not designed to solve. Sometimes misunderstanding is the problem.

Pinsof responded in Williams’s newsletter with “What Kind of Apes Are We?” The exchange is one of the best windows into Pinsof because the swagger falls away. He treated Williams as a serious good-faith interlocutor, acknowledged substantial agreement, and pushed back mainly on how far evolutionary mismatch should be taken. He also acknowledged his own attraction to Enlightenment ideals and the desire to understand the world better. The nihilistic reading of Pinsof does not survive contact with this side of his work.

His 2025 essay “AI Doomerism Is Bullshit” supplied another stress test. Pinsof tried to identify a chain of assumptions behind catastrophic AI arguments and attacked them using an evolutionary conception of intelligence as a collection of specialized adaptive capacities instead of one generalized substance. The piece drew heavy resistance from readers who argued that AI-risk theories do not require all of Pinsof’s assumptions. Pinsof later wrote that of everything he had published it provoked the most backlash and bad faith, which surprised him, since claims that ideologies are propaganda and that nobody cares about improving the world had drawn nods and shrugs. The episode illustrates both his strength and his weakness. He can detect assumptions hidden inside apparently rigorous arguments, and he can also construct a target narrower than the strongest opposing case.

In 2026, “Everything Is Signaling” placed Pinsof in a lineage running through Robin Hanson and Kevin Simler, whose The Elephant in the Brain made the hidden-motive essay a genre. Much signaling, Pinsof argues, is defensive. Human beings spend much of their social effort avoiding signals that would let others classify them as stupid, disloyal, desperate, immoral, or incompetent.

Erving Goffman, impression-management research, reputation theories of personality, and linguistic pragmatics explored related territory long before Everything Is Bullshit. Pinsof’s claim to originality lies in connecting impression management to evolved signaling systems, recursion, and concealed intentions.

His public intellectual environment has expanded alongside the Substack. In 2025 he began cohosting Evolutionary Psychology (the podcast) with David Pietraszewski, the critic who had asked what Alliance Theory buys with its insight. Pinsof did not solve the problem by defining the critic out of his circle. He brought him inside it. The show brings in researchers from across evolutionary behavioral science and discusses current work and the intellectual history of the field.

Pinsof has also moved through the podcast ecosystem around evolutionary psychology, rationalist-adjacent writing, signaling theory, and heterodox social science. He appeared on Infinite Loops, where the conversation touched on books including Harry Frankfurt’s On Bullshit, Edward Bernays’s Propaganda, Robert Cialdini’s Influence, Robert Wright’s The Moral Animal, Will Storr’s The Status Game, Howard Bloom’s The Lucifer Principle, and Douglas Hofstadter’s Gödel, Escher, Bach. He has also appeared on Chris Williamson’s Modern Wisdom.

He sits at an angle to rationalism. Much of his work runs against the rationalist habit of treating articulate reasons as privileged evidence about why people believe things. His “Utilitarianism Is Bullshit” turns the same explanatory suspicion on a philosophical tradition influential in effective-altruist and rationalist circles, and opens by admitting he used to be a utilitarian. His criticisms of AI doom, political ideology, and intellectualism reflect a deeper suspicion that explicit reasoning serves social functions with little relation to discovering truth.

His current UCLA work is widening again. The Social Minds Lab says Pinsof studies political attitudes, mating strategies, status, and signaling while using mathematical models to investigate alliance formation. The lab also describes him as leading work on the psychology of humor. Pinsof told me of three further papers. One, under review, tests Alliance Theory predictions about which groups people perceive as more discriminated against. A second, under review with Acevedo, offers an evolutionary functionalist account of awe. A third is a large preregistered study with a group at the University of Toronto that pits alliances against dispositions as predictors of political views.

The discrimination paper enters contested ground. In March 2026 Jake Womick, Kurt Gray, and nine colleagues published “Liberals and Conservatives See Different Victims” in Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin, twelve studies arguing that much of the moral disagreement between left and right comes from different assumptions about who is vulnerable to harm. Liberals see vulnerability as concentrated in groups; conservatives see it as spread across individuals. Those assumptions predicted moral judgments, implicit attitudes, and charitable giving, and could be manipulated. Alliance Theory can generate a similar surface result by a different route: allies get perceived as victims and rivals as perpetrators because the perception serves the coalition. Showing that partisans disagree about who is discriminated against will therefore prove little. The test is whether independently measured alliances predict the perceptions after vulnerability beliefs are allowed to compete.

The Toronto study is the answer to Malka and Federico. They asked for a contest between alliances and dispositions; Pinsof, Sears, and Haselton wrote in reply that independently measured alliances should strongly predict beliefs or the theory is in trouble; the preregistered study is that contest, with the predictions committed before the data arrive. If alliances outpredict personality and values, Alliance Theory moves from a redescription to a rival. If they do not, Pinsof will have run the study that showed it.

A 2025 UCLA profile of friendship research describes Pinsof’s emerging conception of friendship as an alliance problem. He asks why humans form, maintain, and terminate friendships and uses game theory to think about those decisions. Humor enters as a device that can cement friendship while marking insiders off from outsiders.

His 2026 preprint “All Mixed Up: A Solution to the Evolutionary Mystery of Humor” attempts an evolutionary account. Pinsof proposes that humor helps humans handle “mix-ups” in coordination. Misunderstandings, ambiguity, mistakes, and awkward violations can threaten social coordination. Shared laughter can establish common knowledge that both parties recognized the disruption and help defuse its costs. The ability to produce humor can therefore signal value as a coordination partner. The paper went through three public versions between February and April 2026 and grew from an intuition about awkwardness into a model with three linked adaptations, humor detection, mutual laughter, and partner choice, and a formal statement of when they could be favored. The revision history shows the direction of travel. Pinsof is trying to turn the sentence that makes you laugh into the account that says when you should. The humor work is also the one paper that joins his two careers. He has said it attracted him because it let him unite the comedy side and the psychology side of his life.

Pinsof is also working with Jaimie Krems and Daniel Sznycer on a UCLA Initiative to Study Hate project called “Tests of an Engineering Perspective of Hatred Towards Jews.” The project approaches hatred in functional terms by asking what psychological inputs activate hostile responses and what conditions alter them. That fits his preference for asking what a psychological system does before judging whether its output is morally desirable.

His publication record stays odd. ResearchGate’s Pinsof profile aggregates his papers, preprints, and related outputs, but his peer-reviewed corpus runs considerably smaller than his public intellectual footprint. His projects take five, eight, or ten years to mature. Alliance Theory appeared at conferences years before its target article. The abortion hypothesis returned a decade after its first presentation. “The Evolution of Social Paradoxes” circulated for several years before American Psychologist published it. He is now trying to formalize alliances, humor, and status itself, and says he thinks all science should move in that direction. Pinsof’s natural unit of work may be the research program.

Most young academics cannot spend years thinking about one theory while publishing little. Pinsof can. Cards Against Humanity removed a strong selection pressure on academic research.

The arrangement gives Pinsof permission to pursue large questions other researchers avoid because they do not yield rapid publications. It lets him combine political psychology, evolutionary theory, game theory, humor, philosophy, and internet writing without worrying whether a hiring committee will see a coherent specialization. It also removes some of the external constraints that make scholars narrow their claims. The same freedom that allows an original theory to develop can allow a favored explanation to expand until it covers everything.

His intellectual trajectory runs in widening concentric circles. The first circle is mating strategy. Why do people hold political positions on same-sex marriage and abortion? The second is alliance. Why do political coalitions endorse inconsistent bundles of principles? The third is status and signaling. Why do humans hide the motives underlying their public behavior? The fourth is bullshit. Why do conscious explanations so often fail to identify the forces producing behavior? The fifth is recursive social cognition. How do people signal that they are not signaling and compete while concealing the competition? The newest circle is coordination. How do alliances, friendships, humor, and political institutions let highly social animals organize themselves around common interests and conflicts?

Across all of them runs one question. Do people do things for the reasons they say they do? The young Pinsof asked whether people opposed same-sex marriage for the moral reasons they supplied. Alliance Theory asked whether political ideologies came from the values their adherents invoked. “Status Is Weird” asked whether noble conduct could conceal competition. “The Evolution of Social Paradoxes” asked how that concealment could become an evolved signaling strategy. “A Big Misunderstanding” asked whether intellectuals’ explanations of society conveniently magnify the importance of intellectuals. His happiness writing asks whether people understand the goals they believe they pursue.

Pinsof has spent a decade removing the object from his original question. What began as “Do people oppose this political policy for the reasons they say they do?” has become something close to “Does anybody do anything for the reasons they say they do?” That enlargement is the attraction of the project and its greatest vulnerability.

He has identified forces that exist. Human beings form alliances. They seek status. They manage impressions. They rationalize. They signal. They have incentives to hide unattractive motives. They apply their principles selectively. Their accounts of themselves are incomplete. The unresolved question is how much these forces explain.

If Alliance Theory says coalitions influence political ideology, it persuades. If it says values are largely post hoc coalition propaganda, the evidentiary burden grows much heavier. If status theory says people sometimes disguise status seeking, it names a familiar phenomenon. If every act of humility, rebellion, generosity, authenticity, and indifference can be recoded as hidden status competition, it becomes hard to say what evidence could count against the theory.

Pinsof is at his most scientifically valuable when he disciplines his own cynicism. The formal treatment of concealed signals beats declaring everything a status game. Mathematical alliance models beat collecting partisan inconsistencies. A testable coordination theory of humor beats saying jokes help people bond. The movement from aphorism to model may decide whether Pinsof is remembered as a clever public intellectual or as the architect of a durable research program.

The popular persona conceals another feature of him. He enjoys explanation. He remains invested in doing science. He runs experiments and mathematical models, revises theories, engages serious critics, produces a research podcast, and keeps working inside UCLA with the money to walk away from it. His cynicism concerns human self-description.

That makes the title Everything Is Bullshit misleading. Pinsof believes that much of what human beings say about why they think, choose, and value what they do is psychologically superficial. His project is to uncover the machinery underneath.

The biography helped make that project possible. An actor-in-training became a social psychologist. A group of high-school friends produced a vulgar card game. The game became a fortune. The fortune freed one of its creators from the ordinary career structure of academia. The game taught him to compress uncomfortable observations into memorable sentences. Evolutionary psychology taught him to ask what those uncomfortable behaviors were designed to accomplish. Political psychology supplied the first cases. The internet supplied an audience on which to test ever broader versions of the theory.

He is an experiment in what happens when an evolutionary psychologist acquires tenure-like independence without tenure and then follows one explanatory instinct for more than a decade. The experiment now has a result to wait for. The theory that began by explaining away other people’s reasons is being made to compete against another explanation under rules announced in advance.

The Set

Start with the room. Every summer the Human Behavior and Evolution Society meets in a hotel with bad carpet, and for four days a few hundred people argue about what the mind was built to do. The 2025 program runs to talks on alliance formation, mating strategy, coalitional cognition, disgust, gossip, and hatred. David Pinsof gave one called “Whose Side Are You On? The Evolutionary Game Theory of Alliances.” In the audience sit the people who can evaluate it. There are not many of them. Randall Collins observed in The Sociology of Philosophies that intellectual fields sustain only three to six live positions at a time, because attention is the scarce good and the network cannot hold more. The Pinsof set is a field of that size. Its members can be named, and most of them appear in the citations of one journal issue and the guest list of one podcast.

The inner ring is a laboratory lineage. Martie Haselton chaired his dissertation and has coauthored with him since 2016. David O. Sears supplied the political psychology and stands as senior author on the Alliance Theory papers. Aaron Lukaszewski and H. Clark Barrett sat on the committee. Jaimie Krems runs the Social Minds Lab where he now works. Daniel Sznycer joins him and Krems on the UCLA engineering-of-hatred project. Elias Acevedo, whom Pinsof co-advises with Krems and Haselton, carries the abortion paper, the awe paper, and the replication of the equality-for-all study. Tran Dinh and Steven Gangestad appear on the ovulatory-shift work. Behind all of them stand Leda Cosmides and John Tooby, whose Santa Barbara program supplies the grammar every one of these people speaks, along with Robert Trivers on self-deception, Amotz Zahavi on costly signals, Robert Kurzban on the modular and hypocritical mind, and Dan Sperber and Hugo Mercier on reasoning as an argumentative tool.

The second ring is the ring of worthy opponents, and a set of this size cannot function without them. Most of them wrote for the 2023 issue of Psychological Inquiry. David Pietraszewski made the most dangerous concession. Suppose Alliance Theory is right, he asked in a commentary subtitled “Political Ideologies as Ad-Hoc Alliances… So What?”, and then posed seven problems a predictive evolutionary political psychology would still have to solve. Two years later he became Pinsof’s podcast cohost. Peter DeScioli agreed that alliances belong at the foundation of political psychology and then turned the claim around: in “The Dangers of Alliances Caused the Evolution of Moral Principles” he argued that impartial moral rules evolved as a way to choose sides without the hazards of choosing by alliance. Where Pinsof looks behind principles and finds coalitions, DeScioli looks behind principles and finds machinery built to restrain coalitions. Michael Bang Petersen and Antoine Marie argued in their commentary that status deserved more room than Alliance Theory gave it. Nichola Raihani and Quentin Atkinson said alliances are one factor among many. Ariel Malka and Christopher Federico said belief systems have other roots and asked for a study that would let dispositions and alliances compete. Yoav Ganzach said the theory explains little. Mark Hoffarth and John Jost were the first to push back in print, in 2017, and Jost’s later attack on both-sideology, which never names Pinsof, is the strongest statement of the position the set defines itself against in the wider argument over ideological symmetry. The Toronto collaboration that pits alliances against dispositions is the study Malka and Federico asked for, and it will give this ring something to shoot at.

The third ring is the public one, joined by traffic. Dan Williams of Conspicuous Cognition is the closest thing Pinsof has to a sparring partner of equal weight. Robin Hanson at Overcoming Bias and Kevin Simler at Melting Asphalt wrote The Elephant in the Brain and made the hidden-motive essay a genre. Will Storr wrote The Status Game. Adam Mastroianni at Experimental History runs the same operation on psychology’s own institutions. Rob Henderson at his newsletter, Steve Stewart-Williams, Coltan Scrivner, Diana Fleischman, Geoffrey Miller, and Richard Hanania occupy adjacent stalls in the same market. Zach Elwood, Chris Williamson, and Jim O’Shaughnessy supply the microphones. Behind them stand the dead: La Rochefoucauld, Mandeville, Adam Smith of the Theory of Moral Sentiments, Nietzsche, Veblen, Goffman, and Harry Frankfurt, whose On Bullshit gave the set its title word.

What do they value? Function first. The question they ask of any behavior, belief, institution, or emotion is what it was built to accomplish, and they hold that the honest answer will rarely match the answer the actor gives. They value parsimony, and they value nerve. They value a man who can hold an unflattering hypothesis in his hand without dropping it. They value wit, and they treat a good joke as evidence, since a joke that lands proves that the audience recognized the hidden thing. They have started to value formal models more than they used to, which is why Pinsof’s move toward game theory reads as a bid for standing inside the field as well as a scientific step. He now says all science should go that way.

The immortality project: A true account of human nature that other people still use in fifty years. That is why the set treats popularization with suspicion even as it lives on Substack, and why the members who have crossed over keep insisting they are still doing science.

The status games follow from the hero system. The first is the cynicism arms race. If seeing through is the virtue, then the man who sees through one layer further wins the exchange. Hanson says medicine is not about health. Pinsof says the humble man is competing. The next man says the confession of competing is itself a competitive move. The game has no ceiling, which is a problem the set half-recognizes and half-enjoys. Pinsof’s “4D Chess” paper is an attempt to give the ceiling a number: the fifth order costs more than it pays.

The second is the reflexivity trump card. Admitting that your own essay is a status play cannot be answered, since any objection you raise afterward can be recoded as the play. Mary Douglas would recognize the structure. The confession functions as a purification rite, and once performed it licenses the polluting act. This is how a man can write about status seeking for three years while accumulating status and never appear to have contradicted himself.

The third is the freedom display. Pinsof has money from a card game and says so. Hanson has tenure. Mastroianni left. In a set that theorizes incentives, being visibly unbought is the highest form of capital. Robert Merton called disinterestedness a norm of science and noted that scientists have to perform it. Here the performance has been specialized: independence from career pressure is displayed, and it functions as a warrant. Trust me, I have nothing riding on this.

The fourth is hospitality to critics. When Dan Williams answered Pinsof with “We Are Confused, Maladapted Apes Who Need Enlightenment,” Pinsof replied in Williams’s own newsletter, conceded ground, and kept the disagreement narrow. Taking your strongest opponent seriously in his own house is a status move of a high order, and making a former critic your podcast cohost, as Pinsof did with Pietraszewski, is a higher one.

The fifth is boundary work. The set defines itself against three neighbors it can be seen arguing with. Against mainstream social psychology, which it regards as a machine for producing flattering findings about the researchers’ own coalition, and whose position Jost states most sharply. Against the rationalists and effective altruists, whose faith in articulate reasoning Pinsof attacks in “Utilitarianism Is Bullshit” and “AI Doomerism Is Bullshit.” And against the pop-evolutionary content business, the alpha-male podcast economy, which sells the same words with none of the discipline. Each boundary is patrolled by tone as much as by argument. You signal which side you are on by what you find funny.

Now the claims. The set writes as if it had no normative commitments and has several. Truth beats comfort, held with something close to religious force. Incentives beat exhortation, so the way to fix an institution is to change what it pays for. The symmetry claim is narrower than the rhetoric suggests. In “Strange Bedfellows” Pinsof, Sears, and Haselton posit a psychological equivalence between liberals and conservatives in alliance-serving cognition, reject any moral equivalence, since the same psychology produces different harms depending on who gets classed as an enemy, and allow that other psychological asymmetries between left and right may exist. The symmetry is architectural: belonging to the morally better coalition exempts no one from coalitional cognition. That is still a moral doctrine, and Jost is right to treat the symmetry posture as one, though he is wrong to think naming it settles anything. Sanctimony is the cardinal sin. And beneath the cynicism runs a meliorism the set rarely admits, since a man who did not think understanding could improve things would not run studies, build models, or publish weekly. Pinsof conceded as much to Williams when he acknowledged his own attraction to Enlightenment ideals.

The adaptationist commitments: The set holds that a species-typical psychological architecture exists, that it has content, and that the content can be discovered. It holds that psychological systems have functions, and that a function is a real property of a trait. It holds that motives are real objects that exist below awareness and can be wrong about themselves. Those are strong commitments, and the set makes them at the level of the species. At the level of the group it makes almost none: Alliance Theory’s point is that coalitions are historically contingent and that no party owns a timeless ideological essence. The set is fixed about human nature and fluid about human groups, and it holds both at once. In the AI argument Pinsof pushes the second habit further and denies that intelligence is a single substance, treating it as a bundle of special-purpose capacities. The set treats as machinery what rationalists treat as a quantity, and as contingent what political psychology treats as a trait.

The moral grammar: Sanctimony is the sin. Mood affiliation is the sin. Believing your own press is the sin. Boring is a sin, which is unusual for a scholarly community and traces to the card game. The virtues are candor about one’s own motives, updating in public, engaging the strongest version of an opponent, and taking a joke at one’s own expense. There is a confession, the reflexive admission, and it grants absolution. There is an excommunication, reserved for those caught moralizing without irony or defending a sacred cow. And there is a sacrament of controlled defilement. Cards Against Humanity is a liturgy in which a group of friends touch the forbidden together and prove by laughing that no one present is fragile. Douglas would say the game handles pollution the way rituals always do, by staging it under rules. The Substack performs the same office with moral material instead of scatological. The essays that end in “Status Is Weird” and “A Big Misunderstanding” invite the reader to handle a thought about himself that he would rather not touch, and the reward for handling it is membership.

A hero system that rewards nerve will reward the boldest claim over the best-supported one. A moral grammar built on confession lets the confessor buy indulgences. A set that defines itself by seeing through everything has trouble specifying what it could fail to see through. Pinsof’s answer, so far, has been to reach for formal models, since “The Evolution of Social Paradoxes” tries to say when concealed signals should fail and the Toronto study tries to say when alliances should lose to dispositions. DeScioli’s answer is older: the thing the set cannot see through may be the moral rule itself, which on his account evolved because alliances are dangerous and people needed a way to choose sides without them. Whether the set follows Pinsof into models, or takes DeScioli’s point that some principles are not coalition propaganda, will determine whether it becomes a research program or remains a style.

Annah Feinberg

Annah Feinberg is a playwright turned dramaturg turned screenwriter turned cartoonist turned graphic novelist, and the through-line in her work runs so close to her husband’s that the two of them look, from a distance, like a single project pursued by two methods.

Feinberg grew up in Deerfield, Illinois, the next town over from Pinsof’s Highland Park on Chicago’s North Shore. She took a BFA in theatre studies from the University of Illinois in 2009, the year Pinsof graduated from Iowa, and then an MFA in dramaturgy from Columbia. Her HowlRound biography says that graduate school was where she had the debt-riddled realization that she did not want to be a dramaturg. She had by then written plays. The Beautiful Beautiful Sea Next Door, a dark comedy that reworks the Medusa myth as a family drama with cellphones, was produced in New York in 2012. Numismatics, about a woman who returns to her dead mother’s house to organize a coin collection as a defense against a larger chaos, was a finalist for a Clubbed Thumb commission. The Ivories concerns an elephant invasion of the Midwest and a seventy-two-year-old woman who sets out to become a YouTube pop star to avenge her daughter’s murder. Doollee lists the plays as unpublished, and I have not found the scripts.

She wrote for HowlRound in those years, and two essays there show the mind before the comedy. “Confessions of a Serial Intern” describes seven theatre internships that she found useful and that also trained her, she wrote, to accept exploitation, apologize constantly, and be grateful for scraps. “Antipermanence,” from 2014, argues that nonprofit theatres profess missions built on experiment and community while their budgets, buildings, and jobs push them toward one goal, which is to keep existing. She surveyed staff at dozens of theatres to measure the gap between what the institutions said they were for and what they did. That is the question her husband would make a career of, put to an institution she knew from inside, three years before he defended his dissertation.

Feinberg moved to Los Angeles in 2013. There she was one of the founding members of the Kilroys, the collective of women in theatre that began publishing an annual list of unproduced plays by women and trans writers to answer the industry’s claim that it could not find them. Her account of the problem, in a 2014 Backstage interview, was that theatres sincerely believed in equality and kept producing the same men, and that the cause was habit and structure. She then, as her own biography puts it, ditched the theatre to become a screenwriter and cartoonist.

The Hollywood years were an apprenticeship. She was an assistant on Veep, a writers’ assistant on Arrested Development, and a script coordinator on I Love Dick. In April 2019 Variety reported that Showtime was developing her half-hour animated comedy Multifarious Maris, with ShadowMachine, the studio behind BoJack Horseman, attached. The premise is a compact statement of her subject. On the night of her thirtieth birthday Maris discovers that after one glass of wine too many she can travel into the lives she would have lived had she chosen differently, and she spends the series hopping between them in search of the one where she is living her best life. The joke is on the phrase. Feinberg has since developed adult animation for AMC as well, and her website lists two live-action features and a second graphic novel in progress.

Her humor writing is where most readers meet her. She has published in The New Yorker, McSweeney’s, Bon Appétit, and The Hairpin, and the New Yorker pieces make a small anthology of one comic method. “Millennials Are the First Generation in History to Inspire Think Pieces About Millennials” has a narrator who clicks on an article because it is about her personally and then recites the article’s list of generational experiences back as proof of her individuality. “But I Can’t Complain” keeps one rule fixed, that others have it worse, while the circumstances around it escalate from backache to a toddler who kills the neighbors’ pets to nuclear war. “What I Know About You Based on How Many of Your Friends Are Becoming Therapists,” from this spring, builds a diagnostic taxonomy out of a number and closes by sending the reader to therapy. “From Napkin to Notoriety” is about the insufferable literary wunderkind, a figure she has watched from inside theatre, graduate school, writers’ rooms, and magazines. “Why Women’s Bodies Are Bad for Women,” at McSweeney’s, takes the wellness-culture separation of self from body so literally that the solution becomes leaving the body altogether.

Her debut graphic novel, Goodbye, Dolly!, came out in 2025. It is narrated from beyond the grave by Dolly the cloned sheep, whose six adult children, the nepo lambs, wander the Scottish countryside after her death trying to work out what a second-generation clone is for. The Deerfield Public Library, her hometown library, had her on its podcast, and she said there that Dolly had made her uneasy at age ten and that she was drawn to the gap between an epochal scientific breakthrough and the speed with which the world stopped caring about it. Comic Book Herald singled out her method of drawing the sheep by hand and setting them against photographs of Edinburgh and the Scottish hills. A neurotic cartoon consciousness in the middle of a licensed stock landscape is a fair picture of her whole comic world.

Feinberg typically begins with a real human predicament, a dead mother, a murdered daughter, adult disappointment, a body, and then supplies the character with an absurd system for managing it: coin collecting, YouTube fame, gratitude practice, therapy vocabulary, generational sociology, a multiverse. The character follows the system with total seriousness. Feinberg then lets the system run until it consumes the person. The coins get organized; the mother stays dead. The narrator cannot complain; the house burns down. The emotion in these pieces is never fake. The grief is grief, the anxiety is anxiety, the wanting is real. What is wrong is the script the culture hands the person for handling it. Her subject is that misfit, and her characters are ridiculous without being frauds.

Set that beside her husband. Pinsof’s blog is called Everything Is Bullshit, and his method is to take a respectable explanation and replace it with the less respectable machinery underneath: incentives, alliances, status, signaling, confabulation. He decomposes. Feinberg takes the same respectable explanation and lets it keep talking until it incriminates itself. She literalizes. Pinsof writes that your egalitarian principle may be serving a coalition. Feinberg invents a woman so egalitarian she has ranked all her friends by how psychologically evolved they are. He explains the contradiction. She stages it. Both of them are after the distance between the story a sophisticated person tells about himself and the less dignified thing visibly going on underneath, and both trained in theatre, in neighboring suburbs, in the same year, before either had a name for the subject.

“Antipermanence” and the Kilroys came before Pinsof’s public work, and her comic architecture is visible in a 2012 play. What the record does show is collaboration. In 2014 Feinberg wrote and directed a short called Gretch & Tim, about idealistic twins who fail to save their town library and decide to steal it back, and the credits list the original music as David Pinsof’s. In 2018 he composed for her Balloon Room, a short musical in which Stacy Osei-Kuffour played Hillary Clinton. Her later shorts, The Workplace and Fetus Monster, credit other composers. So the music Pinsof told me he finds inherently enjoyable was, for several years, the medium through which the two of them made things together, and it began a year after she arrived in Los Angeles and four years before his dissertation. I have found no public account of how they met.

Feinberg appears in Pinsof’s writing more than he appears in hers, and when she does she tends to mark the limit of his persona. In “Money Is Bullshit” he reduces exchange to its social functions and then reaches marriage and stops reducing. His wife, he writes, is irreplaceable, because her interests have become intertwined with his own, and a man who withheld help from her because she could not repay it would be a bad husband. He uses the phrase without irony. In “Deep Bullshit” he describes leaving a restaurant with his pregnant wife when an older woman stopped them and announced that their baby would change the world. Feinberg teared up and later agreed the prophecy was bullshit. Pinsof admits he was moved too, while diagnosing why the line worked. In “Bullshit Is a Choice” he calls himself a softie who sings the Barney song to his daughter. And in this August’s “The Correct Answer to Every Philosophical Question” he says his belief that life has no inherent meaning survived fatherhood while the feeling behind it did not. The man who explains why our deepest stories are bullshit has a family life in which understanding the machinery leaves the feeling in place.

Feinberg keeps him offstage. Her Bon Appétit essay on the weeks after her daughter’s birth is personal and names no husband. The Deerfield interview ranges across childhood, parenthood, existential dread, and sheep, and never mentions him. That tells you nothing about the marriage and something about the two writers. He brings his household into his essays because it supplies cases for the theory. She writes from inside her own head and leaves the rest of the house alone.

If Pinsof’s question is what the machinery underneath us produces, Feinberg’s is what it looks like from inside. His answer is a model. Hers is a sheep in a stock photograph of Scotland, sincerely grieving, wondering who she is, and reaching for the wrong tool.

Pinsof on Pinsof

David Pinsof’s theory says that stated reasons are rarely causes, that opinions are coalition badges, that status seeking must hide itself to work, and that intellectuals exaggerate the problems that make intellectuals necessary. He has applied every one of those claims to other people and some of them to himself. “Psychologizing Psychologists” turned the method on his field. The reflexive admission runs through the blog: yes, this essay is a status play too. What he has not done is run the theory on the machine that publishes him. The machine is Substack, and it has incentives, an audience, and a coalition of its own. His theory predicts what those will do to a writer. The prediction can be checked against the writer.

Start with the titles, since the title is the unit Substack pays for. A post travels as a headline in an email, a link on X, a screenshot in a group chat. The argument arrives later, if at all. Pinsof’s titles read as a list of executions: “Happiness Is Bullshit,” “The Meaning of Life Is Bullshit,” “Utilitarianism Is Bullshit,” “Democracy Is Bullshit,” “AI Doomerism Is Bullshit.” The arguments under them are qualified. “Democracy Is Bullshit” concludes that democracy beats the alternatives. “Happiness Is Bullshit Revisited” reworks the original into a claim about prediction-error signals that most psychologists could sign. The gap between title and argument is a fact about the corpus, and Pinsof’s theory has a name for it. In “The Evolution of Social Paradoxes” he describes signals that deliver a benefit while concealing that a signal is being sent. The maximal title delivers the status benefit of nerve, the cardinal virtue of his set, and the qualified argument supplies deniability when the nerve is challenged. The title says everything is bullshit. The essay says some things are more functional than they look. A reader who objects to the title is pointed to the essay. A reader who finds the essay tame is pointed to the title. The pair works the way his theory says paradoxical signals work: it collects the reward for boldness while retaining the ability to disclaim boldness.

His own “Opinions Are Bullshit” supplies the second lens. Opinions, on that account, function as badges of coalition membership. They are held, displayed, and defended for what they signal about whose side you are on. Apply that to the blog’s targets. Pinsof attacks happiness research, the search for meaning, utilitarianism, rationalist AI doom, mainstream political psychology, and the intellectual class’s faith in its own necessity. Every one of those targets sits inside or next to the audience that reads him. UCLA’s profile of its Substack academics called his readership a global gathering of Darwinist cynics, and that gathering overlaps with the rationalist and effective-altruist worlds he keeps attacking. Alliance Theory predicts this pattern. The cheapest status inside a coalition comes from defeating the nearest rival coalition on shared ground. Attacking utilitarianism in front of people who have read too much utilitarianism wins more than attacking, say, astrology, which no one in the room defends. His targets are the badges his audience is half-ashamed of wearing. The essays let readers take them off in public and put on a better one.

The theory also predicts what he will leave alone. In the bio I noted that the set defines itself against the hereditarian right, which shares its evolutionary vocabulary. Pinsof does not write “Egalitarianism Is Bullshit” or “Race Is Not Bullshit.” On his own account of coalitional caution there is no need to ask whether he holds views on those questions. The point of Alliance Theory is that positions are set by who you can afford to lose. A Darwinist cynic who ran the method on group differences would lose the part of his audience that keeps him respectable, and his theory says the essay that costs a coalition does not get written. That is a prediction his theory makes about him, and the blog’s table of contents matches it.

Next take the freedom display. Pinsof told Zach Elwood that Cards Against Humanity freed him from the incentives of an academic career, and he has said so often enough that the fact has become part of his public identity. “Status Is Weird” argues that displayed independence from status is itself a status strategy, one of the best. By his own logic the repeated mention of his financial freedom is a signal that says trust me, I have nothing riding on this, and it earns him the deference that an unbought man gets in a set that theorizes incentives. The signal happens to be true. His theory does not care whether it is true. It cares what it does, and what it does is exempt him from the suspicion he directs at everyone else. The money freed him from one incentive structure and put him inside another. Substack rewards frequency, provocation, and a recognizable voice, and it rewards them in attention, which for a man who does not need the subscriptions is the currency that remains. His theory says attention is the currency that was always at stake.

Now the numbers. The blog ran twenty posts in 2023, twelve in 2024, ten in 2025, and six through August 2026. The annual archives show the decline. Over the same years he published in American Psychologist, presented evolutionary game theory at HBES, started a research podcast with David Pietraszewski, and began writing models with Greek letters in them. He told me all science should move toward formalism and his work is no exception. That is a stated reason. His theory says stated reasons are rarely causes and that the cause is usually a move in a status game. The move here is legible in the “4D Chess” abstract he sent me. At the fourth order, status-seekers who have been caught pretending learn to pretend to be unpretentious. A man who has gained standing as a cynic by seeing through everyone eventually has to signal that he is not merely a cynic gaining standing, and in his set the surest way to do that is to become boring on purpose. Mathematics is the costly signal. It cannot be screenshotted. It does not travel by email. It says: I was never in this for the titles. The formal turn is, by Pinsof’s own account of the fourth order, the unpretentious pose that a pretentious signaler adopts once the audience has learned to see through pretension. The pose may also be science. The theory says both can be true, and that the man executing it will believe only the second.

In “A Big Misunderstanding,” Pinsof argues that intellectuals inflate the role of misunderstanding in social dysfunction because a world full of misunderstanding needs intellectuals to correct it. Invert the argument and aim it at the blog. A Darwinist cynic inflates the role of hidden motive in social life because a world full of hidden motives needs Darwinist cynics to expose it. Everything Is Bullshit is a brand, and a brand called Everything Is Bullshit has a commercial and coalitional interest in everything continuing to be bullshit. The essays that qualify the title, that concede democracy works and happiness might be a real signal and Dan Williams might have a point, are the essays that threaten the brand, and they are also the best essays. The tension I called the central one in his career, between a favored explanation and the evidence that would limit it, is on this reading a tension between the writer and the masthead. His theory predicts the masthead will win more often than the writer would like.

Dan Williams answered “A Big Misunderstanding” with “We Are Confused, Maladapted Apes Who Need Enlightenment,” and Pinsof replied in Williams’s own newsletter with “What Kind of Apes Are We?” I read that exchange in the bio as the place where the swagger falls away. Under Pinsof’s theory it reads as something else as well. Replying in the rival’s house, conceding ground, narrowing the disagreement: these are the moves “Status Is Weird” identifies as the highest-yield status plays available, the ones that gain by appearing to give. The concession was sincere. His theory says the sincerity is what makes it work, and that the man making it need not know what it is doing for him. Making Pietraszewski, a critic of Alliance Theory, his podcast cohost belongs to the same family. A former enemy on your payroll is the alliance move that looks least like one.

The audience, for its part, is doing what Alliance Theory says audiences do. Readers who share the badges he sells become a coalition, and the coalition pulls the writer toward what it rewards. The phrase for that is audience capture, and it is an Alliance Theory story with the writer as the captured party. The evidence of capture in Pinsof’s case is mixed. The titles stayed maximal while the arguments grew careful, which suggests he gave the audience the headline and kept the essay for himself. The posting rate fell as the formal work rose, which suggests the academic coalition began outbidding the Substack one. The AI doom essay drew the heaviest resistance from his own readers, and he did not retreat, which suggests either that he is less captured than the theory predicts or that the rationalist part of his audience is the part he can afford to lose. His theory does not let him claim the first without earning it, and the second is the alliance reading.

There is one more party the theory applies to, and I am it. A long biography of a Darwinist cynic, published by a writer who has adopted the cynic’s concepts and run them on Orthodox Jewish communal life, on academics, and on public intellectuals, is a bid for standing inside the cynic’s set. The essay signals membership by fluency. It signals nerve by criticizing the subject. It signals humility by criticizing the subject gently and by ending with the concession that he might be right. Pinsof answered the draft by calling me the closest thing he has to a biographer. On his theory that sentence is the coalition admitting a member, and the warmth I felt reading it is the reward the coalition pays. On his theory I should distrust the warmth and keep writing. On his theory he should distrust the biography and keep reading. Neither of us will, and the theory explains that too, which is the thing about it that his critics find hardest to forgive.

A Robin Dunbar Frame

The paper David Pinsof described to me under the title “Human Status-Seeking as 4D Chess” ends its arms race at a specific rung. Status-seekers pretend to care, audiences see through the pretending, the seekers then pretend to be unpretentious, and there the recursion stops, because, in his words, fifth-order mindreading makes cognitive demands that most people cannot meet. The pretenders win, on this account, partly because nobody can afford to catch them at the next level up. That is a claim about a number, and the number comes from a laboratory. Whether the number has held is a question the model has to answer before the game theory can start.

The laboratory belongs to Robin Dunbar, the Oxford evolutionary psychologist better known for the number 150. Dunbar’s larger project is the social brain hypothesis: primate brains grew to manage social complexity, and the human neocortex is the size it is because human groups are the size they are. Inside that project sits a smaller literature on what Dunbar calls orders of intentionality, borrowing Daniel Dennett’s term. First-order intentionality is having a belief. Second-order is believing something about another’s belief, which is ordinary theory of mind, the thing children acquire around age four. Third-order is believing that you think that I believe. Each further embedding adds a clause. Dunbar’s question was how many clauses an adult can track before the structure falls apart.

The first answer came in 1998, in a paper by Peter Kinderman, Dunbar, and Richard Bentall that gave adults short stories and asked questions of increasing embedding. Performance stayed high through the fourth order and dropped sharply at the fifth. Dunbar has repeated the result across several studies since. In 2007 James Stiller and Dunbar reported that the mean adult ceiling sits around the fourth to fifth order, that individuals range from about three to about seven, and that the ceiling predicts the size of a person’s social network. Later imaging work from the same group tied intentionality competence to the volume of orbital prefrontal cortex. Dunbar has built a good deal on the fifth-order limit. He argues that religion requires it, since a believer must hold that God intends that we believe that He wants us to act as He intends. He argues that Shakespeare’s audiences worked at the fourth order and Shakespeare at the fifth or sixth, and that this is why the plays are hard.

Set that beside Pinsof’s ladder. His first level is caring about others being inferred and rewarded, which in Dunbar’s counting is second-order: I believe you care. His second level, the seeker anticipating the inference and pretending, is Dunbar’s third: I believe that you believe that I care. His third level, seeing through the pretending, is Dunbar’s fourth. His fourth level, pretending to be unpretentious, is Dunbar’s fifth. And the fifth level he says nobody can run, the one that would catch the unpretentious pose, is Dunbar’s sixth. If that mapping is right, the model stops one rung past where Dunbar’s data say most adults stop, and the stopping rule is better supported than Pinsof’s own phrasing suggests, since Dunbar found the wall at five and the model needs people to fail at six. If Pinsof counts the way Dunbar counts and means the fifth order in Dunbar’s sense, then his fourth level, the crucial one where humility gets faked, is already at the ceiling for the average adult, and the model has to explain how the average status-seeker executes a strategy the average brain can barely represent. The paper will need to say which count it uses. The difference is one rung, and one rung is the argument.

The larger difficulty is that Dunbar’s wall has been fought over for a decade, and the fight is unresolved. In 2015 Cathleen O’Grady, Christian Kliesch, Kenny Smith, and Thomas Scott-Phillips published “The Ease and Extent of Recursive Mindreading, Across Implicit and Explicit Tasks” in Evolution and Human Behavior. They argued that the earlier tests were flawed: the stories broke their own conceptual chains, some questions could be answered by simple substitution, and some had no correct answer. With cleaner stimuli they found adults tracking mental states to at least seven levels of embedding, both when the states were described in words and when they were shown in filmed interactions. They also found the implicit version easier than the explicit one. Watching people is easier than reading about them. Nathan Oesch and Dunbar answered in 2017 with five objections. Then in 2023 Ross Wilson, Ales Hruby, Daniel Perez-Zapata, Sanne van der Kleij, and Ian Apperly published “Is Recursive ‘Mindreading’ Really an Exception to Limitations on Recursive Thinking?” in the Journal of Experimental Psychology: General. They rebuilt the tasks again, this time to close the shortcuts they found in O’Grady’s stimuli, and fifth-order performance fell from 80 percent on the original tasks to 17 percent on the revised ones. A second study got 15 percent. Only large bonuses, unlimited time, and coaching on a strategy raised it to 45 percent. Their conclusion was that recursive mindreading is effortful and limited like recursion in every other domain. A 2024 study by Cameron Jones, Sean Trott, and Benjamin Bergen at UC San Diego then replicated O’Grady’s seven-level result with text-only stimuli and ruled out the answer-format shortcuts. So the literature in 2026 holds two results that contradict each other, and which one you get depends on how the stories are written. Pinsof’s model borrows its central parameter from the side of a dispute that has not been settled.

That matters for the arms race in four ways.

First, the implicit finding cuts against Pinsof in the setting his model cares about most. Status competition does not happen in short stories. It happens in rooms, over months, among people who watch each other. O’Grady and her coauthors found that the deep embeddings were easier when the observer watched a social scene than when he read a description. If that holds, the cynical audience Pinsof needs to be exhausted at the fifth order is operating in the condition where fifth-order tracking is cheapest. The model’s stopping rule assumes the hardest case and applies it to the easiest. Wilson and Apperly give him a way back: their subjects could reach the fifth order when paid enough and given time, which is what a status competition offers an audience that has months to watch and something at stake. The two findings together suggest the ceiling is a cost curve, and a cost curve is what a formal model needs. Pinsof should model the price of the fifth order.

Second, the variation Dunbar found is a prediction Pinsof has not yet made. If individuals range from three to seven orders, and the range tracks network size and prefrontal volume, then the arms race does not stop at the same rung for everyone. Some audiences run the fifth and sixth orders without strain. Those audiences should catch the unpretentious pose, and in front of them the pretenders should lose. That yields something testable. Pretension should thrive where audiences are large, anonymous, and cannot spend the fifth order on each performer, and it should die in small dense groups where every member has the capacity and the time to run it. The essayist with seven thousand subscribers faces a different mindreading budget per reader than the man in a twelve-person lab, and the model should say that the essayist can afford poses the lab member cannot. Dunbar’s own linkage of mindreading capacity to network size supports the inference, since the people with the highest ceilings are the ones with the most relationships to spend it on.

Third, the same variation makes Pinsof’s second reason for the pretenders’ victory do more of the work. His abstract gives two. One is the cost of the fifth order. The other is that being charmed by a talented mindreader pays, because talented mindreaders are likely to rise and it is worth being on their side. That second reason survives O’Grady and Jones. It does not depend on a ceiling. It says that even an audience capable of seeing through the pose has a reason not to, since the person executing the pose is displaying the skill that predicts future status, and the display is itself information. On that reading the pretenders win by recruitment. Dunbar supplies a warrant here too. If mindreading competence predicts network size, then the skilled pretender is not merely charming; he has more allies, and joining him is the better bet. If the cost argument falls, the charm argument can hold the model up on its own, and Pinsof would do well to say so before a reviewer who has read O’Grady says it for him.

Fourth, the explicit task may be the right one for part of Pinsof’s problem. Seeing through a pose in the moment is implicit. Explaining to a third party why the pose was a pose is explicit; it requires putting the embedded clauses into words, and that is where O’Grady found the going harder and where Wilson found it hardest. Much of what Pinsof calls the collapse of a status game under common knowledge happens through talk. Someone has to say, out loud, that the humble man is competing, and say it in a way that others can follow. If the explicit ceiling sits lower than the implicit one, then a room might contain many people who privately see through a pose and few who can articulate it, and the pose survives as a public fact while dying as a private one. That is a richer version of Pinsof’s thesis than the one in his abstract, and the explicit-task data point straight at it.

The question of whether the ceiling varies by culture, training, or intelligence is where the literature is thinnest and where Pinsof’s model is most exposed. Dunbar’s samples were British undergraduates and adults. Stiller and Dunbar found the competence measure only loosely related to general intelligence, and there is little cross-cultural work at the higher orders. Wilson’s coaching result says the ceiling moves with strategy, at least in the laboratory. If it can be raised by practice, and the professions that practice it include lawyers, diplomats, novelists, actors, and comedy writers, then those groups should be the cynical audiences that break the equilibrium. Pinsof trained as an actor and wrote a game about predicting what would make friends laugh. If anyone has a raised ceiling, he does, and the model predicts he should be unusually hard to charm. If training does not raise the ceiling, then the arms race is fixed by biology and the pretenders won once, at the species level, which is the stronger and stranger claim. The model as he described it to me leaves the choice open.

The 4D Chess model has put an empirical parameter at its center and borrowed the value from a literature that is split down the middle. Pinsof told me he thinks all science should move toward formalism and that his work is no exception. Formalism has a cost he has now incurred: a verbal theory can say that people eventually lose track, and nobody can object, but a model that says they lose track at five has to defend the five. Dunbar, Oesch, Wilson, and Apperly would defend it. O’Grady, Scott-Phillips, Jones, Trott, and Bergen would not. The paper that settles Pinsof’s arms race may turn out to be one of theirs.

Countersignaling

In 2002 three economists published a paper whose title could serve as a chapter heading in Everything Is Bullshit. Nick Feltovich, Rick Harbaugh, and Ted To called it “Too Cool for School? Signalling and Countersignalling,” and it appeared in the RAND Journal of Economics. Its subject was the rich man who dresses down, the Nobel laureate who introduces himself by first name, the top student who skips the honors seal, the old-money family that finds display vulgar. Each of these people declines a signal that economics since Michael Spence said he should send. The paper explained why, and it explained it with a model, an equilibrium, and a laboratory experiment. Twenty-one years later David Pinsof posted “Status Is Weird” and asked why humility, indifference to status, and refusal to signal so often win the status they disclaim. The question is whether he was answering a question the economists had already closed.

He was not, and he knew the literature. The preprint of “The Evolution of Social Paradoxes” cites Feltovich and Harbaugh for the observation that we gain status by not caring about status, and it cites Moshe Hoffman, Christian Hilbe, and Martin Nowak’s 2018 paper “The Signal-Burying Game Can Explain Why We Obscure Positive Traits and Good Deeds,” which modeled anonymous charity and the modest genius in the same tradition. So the rediscovery charge fails. The better question is what a psychologist adds to a problem economists formalized, and the answer turns on a difference the citation hides.

Start with what countersignaling says. Spence’s original model has two types, high and low, and a costly signal the high type can afford and the low type cannot. Education, in Spence’s example, tells employers nothing except that the student could bear its cost. Feltovich, Harbaugh, and To added two things. They added a third type in the middle, and they gave the receiver a second, noisy source of information about the sender, something like reputation, track record, or the way a man carries himself. With that extra channel the model produces an equilibrium the two-type model cannot. Medium types signal, to separate themselves from the low types they might be confused with. High types do not signal, because the noisy channel already separates them from the low types most of the time, and because sending the signal would lump them with the striving mediums. As the authors put it, countersignaling is itself a signal of confidence. Their laboratory subjects learned to do it within a few rounds.

Three features of that model matter for Pinsof. First, the countersignaler knows what he is doing and so does the audience. The old-money heir who wears a frayed sweater is understood by everyone present to be sending a message, and the message works because it is understood. Nothing is concealed. The equilibrium is a common-knowledge equilibrium in the ordinary game-theoretic sense; everyone knows the strategies, everyone knows everyone knows, and the strategies remain stable. Second, the model requires the extra channel. Take away the receiver’s noisy independent information and countersignaling collapses, since a high type who declines the signal now looks like a low type. Third, the model predicts a shape. Signaling effort should rise with quality up to a point and then fall, so that the people signaling hardest sit in the middle of the distribution. That prediction is the reason the paper counts as science. It forbids a monotonic world.

Now read Pinsof against it. His definition of a social paradox is a signal designed to conceal, from both sender and receiver, that a signal is being sent. The virtue signaler does not believe he is virtue signaling, and the person who rewards him does not believe it either; if either did, the paper says, the reward would be withheld. That is a different animal from countersignaling. The countersignaler’s refusal to signal succeeds because the audience reads it. Pinsof’s humble man succeeds only if the audience does not read it. His central claim is that status games can collapse when the players acquire common knowledge that they are playing one. Feltovich, Harbaugh, and To describe a game that is stable under common knowledge. Pinsof describes one that is unstable under it. The two accounts agree on the surface behavior, the modest display, and disagree on what holds it up.

That disagreement is Pinsof’s contribution, and it is a psychologist’s contribution. The economists modeled agents with beliefs about types. Pinsof models agents with beliefs about intentions, and beliefs about others’ beliefs about their intentions, and so on up. He derives the paradox from two cognitive capacities, cue-based inference and recursive mentalizing, and argues that once a signal of a good trait can be recognized as intended, the intention itself becomes a cue of a bad trait, the trait of wanting to be seen as good. The signal then has to go underground. Countersignaling has no mechanism for that. In the economists’ model, wanting to be seen as high type carries no penalty; it is simply the game. In Pinsof’s model, wanting to be seen is the thing the audience punishes, which is why humility is rewarded and why the reward vanishes the moment humility is seen as a bid for it.

The second thing Pinsof adds is self-concealment. Feltovich, Harbaugh, and To have no place for a sender who does not know he is sending. Pinsof’s paradoxes are, by his definition, hidden from the sender as much as from the receiver. That moves the problem from economics into the territory of Robert Trivers on self-deception, and it makes an empirical claim countersignaling does not make: that the effective humble man will sincerely report no status motive, and that the sincerity is part of what makes the signal work. That is testable. The countersignaling model predicts that the old-money heir, asked in private, will say he dresses down so as not to look like a striver. Pinsof’s model predicts the effective version of that man will say he just likes the sweater and will pass a lie detector.

The third addition is scope. Countersignaling explains a few behaviors around display and credentials. Pinsof takes the same structure and runs it through intergroup conflict, moralistic pretexts, sacred values, and the stability of political belief systems. His argument is that a coalition pursuing dominance can coordinate only if its dominance seeking stays out of common knowledge, since open acknowledgment would draw the moral disapproval that breaks coordination. Sacred values, on this reading, are the coalition’s social paradox: the thing you cannot admit is a strategy because admitting it would end its usefulness. Whether that extension survives is a separate question. It is not in the 2002 paper and could not be derived from it.

Against those additions, the economists hold two advantages.

The first is the shape prediction. Countersignaling forbids a monotonic relation between quality and display and predicts a peak in the middle. The prediction has been tested in laboratories and in field data on things like the use of honorifics and the pricing of luxury goods. Pinsof’s social-paradox account, as published, makes no shape prediction of comparable sharpness. It says concealed signals should fail when concealment fails. That is correct and hard to falsify. The countersignaling result is a template for what a sharp version would look like: a prediction that humility should be rewarded most among people whose status is already established by an independent channel, least among those whose status is in doubt, and that the middle of the distribution should be where the visible striving concentrates. If Pinsof’s model predicts that too, he should say so, because it would tie his psychology to a result economists have already found. If it predicts something different, the difference is the experiment.

The second advantage is the extra channel. Countersignaling works because the receiver has other information. That condition explains why the strategy is available to some people and not others, and why the rich can dress down while the poor cannot. Pinsof’s account does not specify the equivalent condition. When can a man afford to hide his signal? The economists answer: when something else is already carrying it. That is a resource constraint, and it predicts that concealed signaling should be a strategy of the secure and overt signaling a strategy of the insecure. Pinsof’s reading of humility as concealed competition would gain discipline from adopting it. Without it, his framework says every humble man might be competing; with it, his framework says which humble men are.

There is a fourth relative in this family worth naming, since Pinsof’s paper sits between its two parents. Roland Bénabou and Jean Tirole’s 2006 “Incentives and Prosocial Behavior” in the American Economic Review showed that paying people for good deeds can reduce the deeds, because the payment spoils the signal: once there is a material reason to give, giving no longer proves you are the giving type. That is the economics of the contaminated signal, and it is the closest formal ancestor of Pinsof’s claim that recognized intent destroys the value of a display. Bénabou and Tirole had audiences who know the incentive exists. Pinsof’s move is to make the contaminating factor the audience’s knowledge of intent itself, which pushes the model one level up the recursion.

So the ledger reads like this. Countersignaling got there first on the behavior, twenty-one years before the blog and with a model and an experiment. Signal burying got there on anonymous charity in 2018. Bénabou and Tirole got there on spoiled signals in 2006. Pinsof cites the first two and builds on all three. What he adds is the intention as a cue, the self-deceived sender, the instability under common knowledge, and the extension to coalitions and sacred values. What he has not yet added is the thing the economists had from the start: a prediction that forbids a shape, and a stated condition under which the strategy is available.

The paper he described to me under the title “Human Status-Seeking as 4D Chess” is the place to look for that. Its abstract models each level of mindreading as a stage in an arms race between pretentious signalers and cynical audiences and concludes that the pretenders won because the fifth order costs too much to run. That is a stopping rule, which countersignaling never needed because its agents never climbed past the first level. If the model also says at which level the audience’s independent information enters and how much of it a signaler needs before he can afford to go quiet, Pinsof will have joined his psychology to the economists’ result and improved on it. If it stays at the level of who pretends and who sees through, the economists will still hold the one prediction in this area that has been tested and has held.

A Paul Meehl Frame

Paul Meehl spent the last third of his life explaining why soft psychology does not get anywhere. His answer bears on David Pinsof more than on most psychologists, because Pinsof has picked a fight about explanation in a field where, by Meehl’s account, almost nothing can be refuted and almost everything can be confirmed. Meehl was the psychologist who did clinical prediction, philosophy of science, and the genetics of schizophrenia, and the University of Minnesota keeps his papers online. Three of them matter here. “Theory-Testing in Psychology and Physics: A Methodological Paradox” from 1967, “Theoretical Risks and Tabular Asterisks: Sir Karl, Sir Ronald, and the Slow Progress of Soft Psychology” from 1978, and “Why Summaries of Research on Psychological Theories Are Often Uninterpretable” from 1990. Read together they supply a test for what Pinsof has done and a specification for what he is about to do.

The paradox in the 1967 paper runs like this. In physics a theory predicts a number, and better instruments make the prediction harder to confirm because they narrow the band of results that count as a hit. In psychology a theory predicts a direction, and better methods make the prediction easier to confirm because larger samples reject the null more easily, and the null is almost always false. Meehl called the reason the crud factor. In the social world everything correlates with everything. He later reported a Minnesota study of 57,000 high-school students on 45 variables, from birth order to church attendance to what they liked to read, in which 92 percent of the pairwise correlations reached significance. None of those correlations was predicted by any theory. They were the background noise of a connected world. A theory that says X will correlate with Y in a soft domain has therefore taken a risk close to zero. It had a coin-flip chance of getting the direction right by accident, and the coin was loaded, because the theorist picked the direction after looking at the world.

From that Meehl drew a rule that Wesley Salmon had named the damn strange coincidence. A theory earns credit when it predicts something that would be a strange coincidence if the theory were false. Direction is never strange. A point value is strange. A specified ordering of several groups is strange. An interaction that reverses sign under stated conditions is strange. A predicted null, where the crud factor and every rival say there should be an effect, is the strangest of all, because the crud factor is fighting on the other side. Meehl’s word for the space of outcomes a theory tolerates was the Spielraum. The narrower the Spielraum, the riskier the prediction, and only risky predictions move a field.

Now sort Pinsof.

The first published work passes. The 2016 Psychological Science paper “The Political Divide Over Same-Sex Marriage” did not say that sexual attitudes correlate with political ones. Meehl would have yawned. It predicted an interaction: opposition should rise among people with a restricted sociosexual orientation only when they believe gay men are promiscuous, and the effect of the stereotype should be absent or reversed among the unrestricted. That is a sign prediction under stated conditions, and it narrows the Spielraum. The 2017 PLOS ONE paper “The Effect of the Promiscuity Stereotype on Opposition to Gay Rights” did better still. It manipulated the stereotype and predicted that support would move among the restricted and stay put among the unrestricted. A predicted null in one cell and a predicted effect in another is Meehl’s strange coincidence in miniature. Rival accounts that say opposition comes from religiosity, authoritarianism, or disgust sensitivity had no reason to expect that pattern.

The abortion line passes the same test. The 2016 HBES abstract “Pro-Life or Anti-Promiscuity?” predicted that opposition should concentrate among the restricted only when they believe abortion access encourages casual sex. The 2026 preprint “Concerns about Sexual Promiscuity Play an Underexplored Role in Opposition to Abortion” reports the moderation across four studies. Meehl would want to know the size of the effect and whether it survives the controls the rivals demand, but he would grant that the shape of the prediction was risky.

The double-standards work is the most Meehlian thing Pinsof has done and the least available. Alliance Theory predicts a reversal: the same respondent should endorse a principle when it helps his coalition and reject it when it hurts, and the reversal should run at a similar rate in both parties. That symmetry claim is a risk. The dispositional program, and John Jost in particular, expects asymmetry. Pinsof wrote the Pulse of the Nation questions to catch the reversals before the data came in. That is prediction preceding observation, which is the only order Meehl credited. But the analysis reached the literature as citations inside “Strange Bedfellows” and as a 2018 conference abstract. Meehl’s 1990 paper lists ten reasons research summaries are uninterpretable, and two of them are selective submission and selective publication. A risky prediction that was made, tested, and never written up is uninterpretable for a reason Meehl did not list: no one can read it.

Then comes the part of Pinsof’s corpus Meehl would have marked down. The blog essays make claims with an unbounded Spielraum. “Status Is Weird” says humility, authenticity, and independence can serve as status strategies. Can is not a prediction. The essay does not say when humility should pay and when it should cost, or how much, or for whom. “Everything Is Signaling” has the title of a theory that forbids nothing. Meehl’s complaint about soft psychology was that its theories are stated so loosely that any correlation confirms them and no correlation embarrasses them, and the crud factor guarantees a steady supply of confirming correlations. The blog is that complaint in a readable form. Pinsof knows it, which is why the same years produced “The Evolution of Social Paradoxes,” a paper that tries to say when a concealed signal should work and when it should fail. That is a Spielraum getting narrower under its author’s own pressure.

The commentaries on “Strange Bedfellows” read differently through Meehl. Raihani and Atkinson said alliances are one factor among many. Malka and Federico said belief systems have other roots. Both are true and both are what Meehl predicted the field would say, because in a crud-factor world every factor is one factor among many and every theory is a little bit right. That is the slow progress he mourned. Ganzach argued that alliances do not meaningfully explain ideology, which is an effect-size claim. Meehl would say effect size alone settles nothing when the competing theories all predict a positive coefficient. The question is who predicted the pattern, and pattern here means which issues, which respondents, which direction, and which nulls.

That is the specification for the Toronto study. Pinsof told me he is joining a group at the University of Toronto on a large preregistered paper that pits alliances against dispositions as predictors of political views. Meehl gives four demands. First, the preregistration must say in advance which issues alliances should win and which dispositions should win. Alliance Theory has a natural answer: on issues that have recently changed coalitional sides, trade, Russia, vaccines, free speech, alliance measures should predict positions and dispositional measures should fail, because the disposition did not move when the issue did. On issues tied to stable threat and disgust responses, dispositions might hold their ground. If the theory says that before the data come in, it has taken a risk. Second, the study should predict nulls. The most damaging result for the dispositional program is a set of items on which personality explains nothing once alliance is in the model, and the most damaging for Pinsof is the reverse. Both should be named. Third, the study should predict an ordering, at least, and an interval if the formal work permits it. Alliances should outpredict dispositions by more on switched issues than on stable ones. That ordering has a small Spielraum. Fourth, the study must survive Meehl’s auxiliary problem. If alliance is measured by party identification and party identification is itself the product of disposition, the head-to-head is rigged in a way neither side can see. Measuring alliance in a way that is independent of the outcome is the hardest part, and Meehl would say the paper stands or falls on it.

If the Toronto paper reports only that alliance measures add incremental variance to political views, Meehl’s verdict is that nothing happened. The crud factor supplies incremental variance for free. If it reports the pattern, the field will have a strange coincidence to reckon with, whichever way it goes.

This is also the Meehlian reading of Pinsof’s turn to mathematics. He told me he thinks all science should move toward formalism and that his work is no exception. Meehl agreed with the aim and doubted the shortcut. Equations narrow the Spielraum only when their parameters are fixed by something other than the data being explained. A model with three free parameters fitted to the same survey it predicts is a verbal theory in symbols. Meehl argued that soft psychology should aim for what he called consistency tests, where a theory predicts a numerical relation between quantities it did not use to build itself. The evolutionary game theory of alliances Pinsof presented in 2025 has that potential. So does the recursive mindreading model he described to me under the title “Human Status-Seeking as 4D Chess.” That model’s central claim, that fifth-order mindreading is too expensive and so the pretenders win, is a risky prediction, since it forbids a world where cynical audiences get the upper hand. The question Meehl would ask is whether the model fixes the cost of each order from outside, from the mindreading literature, or tunes it to fit the observed level of pretension. The first is physics. The second is crud with Greek letters.

There is a countersignaling test waiting in the same model. The economic theory of countersignaling predicts a non-monotonic relation between quality and display: the middle signals hardest, the top and bottom stay quiet. A U-shape is a Meehlian prediction, since direction cannot deliver it and the crud factor supplies straight lines. If Pinsof’s social-paradox account predicts a U and finds one, that is a strange coincidence. If it predicts a straight line and dresses it up in recursion, it is not.

One more of Meehl’s observations lands on Pinsof’s reviewers. He wrote that theories in soft psychology do not die by refutation. They fade as people lose interest. One reason is that the field’s conventions strip risk out of papers before publication. Pinsof told me the humor paper carried heavy formalism and that reviewer comments are pushing much of it into an appendix or out. Meehl would recognize the move. The formalism is where the risky predictions live. Moving it to an appendix leaves the verbal claim, which the crud factor will confirm.

Pinsof has written an essay called “Psychologizing Psychologists” that accuses his field of producing findings that serve its own coalition. Meehl’s accusation was different and older. He said the field produces findings that serve no one, because the tests are too weak to tell a true theory from a false one, and so the true ones never win. Pinsof’s early work took real risks and survived them. His public work takes none. His next work, if it does what he says, might be the first head-to-head in political psychology that Meehl would have counted as a test.

An Imre Lakatos Frame

When David Pinsof, David O. Sears, and Martie Haselton answered their critics in Psychological Inquiry, they titled the reply “The Strange Epicycles of Political Psychology.” The word is a charge. An epicycle is a circle added to a circle so that a theory of the heavens can keep the earth at the center while the planets refuse to cooperate. To call a rival’s hypotheses epicycles is to say the rival’s theory is dying and does not know it. The critics had said something close to the reverse. Yoav Ganzach argued that Alliance Theory explains little. Ariel Malka and Christopher Federico argued that it could not be the single root of political belief. Nichola Raihani and Quentin Atkinson said the world was more complicated than that. Underneath the exchange both sides were accusing each other of the same thing: a theory that can accommodate anything and therefore forbids nothing. Neither side used the vocabulary built for that accusation. Imre Lakatos built it in 1970, and it sorts Pinsof’s career better than the vocabulary of falsification he and his critics reach for.

Lakatos’s essay “Falsification and the Methodology of Scientific Research Programmes” began from an observation that embarrassed Popper. Scientists do not abandon theories when an experiment goes wrong. They blame the instrument, the sample, the auxiliary assumption, and they keep going, and often they are right to. Newton’s theory survived the anomalous orbit of Uranus by positing Neptune. The same theory later survived the anomalous orbit of Mercury for decades by positing Vulcan, a planet that did not exist. The difference between the two cases is the difference Lakatos wanted to name. So he replaced the theory with the research program as the unit of appraisal. A program has a hard core, the claims its adherents refuse to give up. It has a negative heuristic, the rule that says redirect every refutation away from the core. It has a protective belt of auxiliary hypotheses that take the hits. And it has a positive heuristic, a plan for what to build next. Programs are never refuted by a fact. They are outgrown. A program is progressive when its adjustments predict new facts that later turn up, and degenerating when its adjustments only explain away what has already gone wrong. Neptune was progressive. Vulcan was degenerating. The Stanford Encyclopedia entry sets out the apparatus in full.

The first move is to find Pinsof’s hard core. He has two programs that share a foundation. The alliance program holds that political belief systems are built from coalitions and that principles are instruments coalitions pick up and put down. The signaling program holds that status competition must disguise itself and that recursive mindreading drives the disguise. Beneath both sits a claim his whole oeuvre refuses to surrender: the reasons people give for what they do are not the causes of what they do, and the causes are functions that natural selection built. That is the core. The negative heuristic follows from it. Never accept a stated reason as an explanation. When a man says he opposes abortion on principle, look for the mating strategy. When a party says it stands for free speech, look for the coalition that benefits. When a man acts humble, look for the concealed bid. The heuristic is what makes Pinsof readable at a glance, and it is what his critics mean when they say he can explain anything.

Lakatos would say that complaint misfires. Every core can explain anything, because that is what cores are for. The dispositional program in political psychology has one too: political attitudes express stable traits, values, and needs, and John Jost’s system justification account, which Pinsof’s dissertation tested against, holds that people are motivated to defend the arrangements they live under. Confronted with a partisan who reverses his principle when the other side benefits, the dispositional program does not fold. It posits a trait that predicts the reversal, or a measurement problem, or a difference between elites and the mass public. Those are its Neptunes and its Vulcans. The question for both programs is the same. Which adjustments have predicted something new?

Sorted that way, Pinsof’s output falls into two piles.

The progressive pile starts early. The 2016 Psychological Science paper “The Political Divide Over Same-Sex Marriage: Mating Strategies in Conflict?” generated a prediction the rival program did not: that opposition would concentrate among people averse to casual sex who linked homosexuality with promiscuity. The 2017 PLOS ONE follow-up, “The Effect of the Promiscuity Stereotype on Opposition to Gay Rights,” did what Lakatos asks: it derived a novel consequence, that correcting the stereotype should shift support among the sexually restricted and only among them, and then manipulated the stereotype and found the shift. The abortion work follows the same path. The 2016 HBES presentation “Pro-Life or Anti-Promiscuity?” made the prediction. The 2026 preprint “Concerns about Sexual Promiscuity Play an Underexplored Role in Opposition to Abortion” tests it on 3,631 people with data from before and after Dobbs. A prediction made in 2016 and confirmed on data that did not exist until 2022 is a novel fact in the strictest sense.

The double-standards work belongs in the same pile, and its history shows why the publication record matters for a Lakatosian audit. Pinsof told me he wrote the questions for Pulse of the Nation to test Alliance Theory predictions he was then developing. The predictions preceded the data. That is the sequence Lakatos rewards. But the analysis reached the record only in fragments cited inside “Strange Bedfellows” and in a 2018 conference program. An outside reader cannot verify which reversals were predicted in advance and which were noticed afterward. A program can be progressive in fact and look degenerating on paper when its predictions live in an unpublished poll.

The most progressive move is the one that has not happened yet. Pinsof is joining a group at the University of Toronto on a large preregistered study that pits alliances against dispositions as predictors of political views. Lakatos was skeptical of crucial experiments in the moment; he thought they were recognized as crucial only in hindsight, once one program had absorbed the result and the other had not. But a preregistered head-to-head is as close as social science gets to forcing the issue. It commits both programs to predictions before the data arrive. Whichever program has to add a Vulcan afterward will have been caught doing it in public.

The signaling program has its own progressive entries. “The Evolution of Social Paradoxes” does the work Lakatos would want, since it specifies the information conditions under which a concealed signal should succeed and under which it should collapse. The humor preprint “All Mixed Up” predicts that laughter should track coordination failures and that the ability to produce it should read as partner value. The “Human Status-Seeking as 4D Chess” paper he described to me tries to derive charisma, authenticity, humility, and sacred values from a single recursive model. Each of these is content-increasing. Each says something that could turn out to be false about a domain the program had not yet touched. And the positive heuristic is visible. Pinsof knows what he will build next, which Lakatos took as the mark of a program still alive: mating, then alliances, then status, then humor, then friendship, then the formal model that is supposed to hold them together.

The degenerating pile is smaller, and it lives mostly on the blog. The list in my earlier essay is the standard exhibit. A man boasts, status seeking; a man acts humble, concealed status seeking; a man admits craving status, strategic candor; a man denies it, successful concealment. In Lakatos’s terms each line is an ad hoc adjustment of the worst kind, what he called ad hoc3: a hypothesis added to save the appearances that predicts nothing beyond the case it was invented for. “Happiness Is Bullshit Revisited” sits near the line. Pinsof reformulated after criticism, which is allowed; the test is whether the reformulation, happiness as a prediction-error signal, forecasts anything the original did not. “Everything Is Signaling” widens the core to cover defensive signaling, the avoidance of being classified as stupid, disloyal, or desperate. That could be progressive if it specifies which signals get avoided and by whom. As written it reads more like an extension of the belt to cover behaviors the original signaling story had missed.

AI Doomerism Is Bullshit” raises a different Lakatosian problem. The core says intelligence is a bundle of specialized adaptations. Applied to AI, that core generated a prediction, that general intelligence of the kind doomers fear cannot arise from scaling. Readers pointed out that the strongest doom arguments do not need the assumption Pinsof attacked. That is what an anomaly looks like from inside a program. The question is how he handles it. If the answer is that the critics have misunderstood, the program has bought itself a Vulcan. If the answer narrows the claim to something testable about what scaled systems can and cannot do, the program has bought itself a Neptune.

Now the title of the reply. Pinsof, Sears, and Haselton accuse dispositional political psychology of epicycles. The charge has content. Each new inconsistency in ideology gets a new construct: authoritarianism, then need for closure, then moral foundations, then a dozen scales, each fitted to the anomaly that produced it. That is the shape of a degenerating belt, and Pinsof is right that a theory which starts from coalitions predicts the inconsistencies in advance instead of naming them afterward. But the charge cuts both ways, and Lakatos would insist on saying so. A program that treats every stable value as post hoc coalition propaganda has its own epicycle waiting whenever a value survives a realignment. When a group keeps a principle after its coalition drops it, the alliance program must explain why, and the easy answer, that the group has a different alliance in view, is an epicycle by any other name. Which side owns the epicycles will be settled by which side can go longest without adding one. That is what the Toronto study is for.

Lakatos had one more thing to say that bears on Pinsof. He denied that it is irrational to keep working on a degenerating program. Prout’s hypothesis that atomic weights were integer multiples of hydrogen looked dead for a century and then came back with isotopes. Copernicus took a long time to outpredict Ptolemy. What stops most scientists from persisting is cost, in grants, jobs, and standing. Pinsof told Zach Elwood that Cards Against Humanity removed those costs for him. In Lakatos’s frame that changes nothing about whether his program is progressive and everything about how long he can afford to find out. The same money that lets a Prout wait out the century lets a Vulcan hunter keep hunting. The difference between the two is visible only in the ledger of predictions, and Pinsof’s ledger, for the moment, runs progressive. The abortion result came in. The Dobbs data cooperated. The concealed-signal conditions were stated before they were tested. The head-to-head is preregistered. What would tip the ledger is a run of misses each followed by a new hidden motive. So far he has been reaching for a model instead.

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Added Context to the Dennis Prager-Cedars Sinai Lawsuit

These two Mildred O. Watson documents (23STCV28540), the FAC and the Opposition to Demurrer, change how I read the Dennis Prager case against Cedars-Sinai. Until now the institutional-understaffing allegations in Prager’s First Amended Complaint read as aggressive but conventional elder-abuse pleading. Fenimore v. Regents of the University of California gives plaintiffs a reason to allege that inadequate staffing converts ordinary negligence into reckless neglect, so a good lawyer looking for a route around MICRA builds that theory. Watson v. Beverly Hills Rehabilitation Centre, LLC shows that an unrelated plaintiff had already accused Cedars-Sinai of substantially the same route to injury, in substantially the same kind of patient, with substantially the same missing care, and substantially the same path from bedside failure to corporate liability.

Two questions follow. What does Watson give Dennis Prager? And what does it mean for Cedars-Sinai?

Mildred Watson’s case, No. 23STCV28540, began on November 21, 2023 in the Stanley Mosk Courthouse and remains pending against Cedars-Sinai before Judge Daniel M. Crowley in Department 71. The Peck Law Group represents the plaintiffs. Watson died on March 28, 2023, and her daughter Lisa brings the action as successor in interest. The docket schedules a jury trial for August 23, 2027. Watson was an elderly, profoundly dependent patient who moved repeatedly between Cedars and Beverly Hills Rehabilitation Centre. The October 2025 First Amended Complaint alleges that during her Cedars admissions she depended on staff for repositioning, toileting, feeding, hydration and skin care. That is recognizable from the Prager case. A C3-C4 quadriplegic who could not move himself or feel pressure was likewise dependent on Cedars for the bodily functions an able-bodied patient performs without help. Prager’s lawyers describe that dependence as the foundation of a custodial relationship.

The resemblance tightens when Watson’s pressure-injury chronology starts. Her FAC alleges that during an April 11, 2022 admission after a heart attack she was contracted, weak and immobile, yet Cedars failed to initiate or document a prevention program covering two-hour repositioning, heel off-loading or a pressure-relieving surface. Nutrition assessments on April 12 and April 18 recorded intact skin. During a May 15 readmission for dehydration, a hospital dietitian documented a Stage II sacral ulcer the next day, and the contemporaneous records allegedly contain no documentation of consistent two-hour repositioning or skin assessments. By December 12 she weighed 73 pounds. During a January 2023 admission the existing wound progressed within six days to an unstageable Stage III-IV injury with slough and eschar while a specialty mattress and a wound-care consultation were delayed. She returned in septic shock on February 25, 2023, underwent serial debridements to bone, and died on March 28 with a sacral wound measuring 12.1 by 8.9 by 1.7 centimeters.

That is close to the architecture of the Prager pressure-wound case. His FAC alleges physician orders for every-two-hour repositioning and off-loading, charted pressure-injury precautions, Braden scores of 10 to 12, and an absence of evidence that the ordered custodial intervention was carried out. It then alleges that the resulting hospital-acquired pressure injury deteriorated after transfer into a Stage IV wound.

The legal move is close to identical. Watson’s lawyers insist their case is not about a doctor making the wrong judgment. Their April 2026 opposition describes repeated failure to provide “basic, non-discretionary care” to someone wholly dependent on Cedars, including turning, pressure off-loading, skin monitoring, nutrition and hydration. Later they call turning, repositioning, off-loading, hygiene and skin surveillance routine custodial obligations rather than discretionary medical treatment. They have to. Winn v. Pioneer Medical Group limits the Elder Abuse Act when a defendant provides medical services, and requires a substantial caretaking relationship plus neglect of basic needs. Oroville Hospital v. Superior Court is the harder case for both plaintiffs, since it held that intermittent in-home wound care from a hospital-affiliated nursing agency created no custodial relationship at all. Watson’s answer to Oroville is duration and totality: five inpatient admissions across a year, during which Cedars had exclusive control of her environment, movement, hygiene and feeding.

Prager’s amended complaint makes the same distinction. It alleges that Cedars withheld a category of “fundamental, basic and required custodial care,” the repositioning and off-loading Cedars itself had determined he required. It invokes Sababin v. Superior Court for the proposition that withholding one necessary category of care can constitute neglect even where the institution provides extensive medical treatment in other respects. Cedars therefore cannot dispose of the elder-abuse claim by showing that Prager received sophisticated ICU care. The plaintiff’s answer is that cardiac monitoring, surgery, respiratory therapy and intensive medical management do not substitute for the elementary physical act an immobile patient cannot perform for himself.

The procedural history repays attention, and it corrects the public record. A March 2024 tentative ruling available online says Cedars’ original demurrer would be overruled. The court docket records the final result differently. The March 29, 2024 demurrer was sustained with leave to amend, though the accompanying motion to strike was denied. The case then entered a binding-arbitration stay in May 2024 and returned to ordinary litigation in October 2025. Watson filed the far more detailed FAC on October 24, 2025. Cedars demurred again on December 9. The plaintiffs filed the opposition we now have on April 9, 2026. This time the demurrer was overruled and Cedars’ motion to strike denied, both on April 22, 2026.

That progression teaches more than a simple ruling for the plaintiffs would have. Something in the rewritten case got Watson across a line she had failed to cross the first time. Statutory elder-abuse claims must be pled with particularity under Covenant Care, Inc. v. Superior Court, and the original complaint apparently did not meet it. The FAC does more than accuse Cedars of causing pressure ulcers. It reconstructs particular admissions, identifies when skin was intact, identifies when ulcers appeared, identifies missing documentation, identifies delays in specialty equipment and wound consultation, and ties those omissions to Watson’s dependence on Cedars. The opposition then translates those facts into the narrow category Winn permits: prolonged withholding of ordinary custodial care from a woman unable to provide it herself.

Prager’s FAC was filed on June 22, 2026, two months after the Watson ruling. There is no evidence that his lawyers copied Watson or knew about it, and the two cases come from different firms. Much of the similarity follows from the same statutes and the same five or six controlling cases. But his amended pleading resembles the successful version of Watson more than it resembles his own sprawling original complaint. It drops Barlow and Rancho, discards the emotional-distress theories, and concentrates on a dependent patient, known risk, physician-directed prevention measures, sustained failure to deliver them, staffing, corporate knowledge and ratification. It invokes Sababin and Fenimore, then alleges a knowing pattern of understaffing on the high-acuity units where Prager was housed.

Watson is the third Cedars pressure-injury case in a line, and each one teaches a different lesson. The closest factual predecessor may be Parks v. Cedars-Sinai Medical Center, Los Angeles Superior Court case No. BC705530. Michael Park entered Cedars in 2016 with intact skin and a high-risk pressure-ulcer classification. According to the allegations, Cedars created a skin-integrity plan requiring twice-daily skin monitoring and repositioning at least every two hours. His widow alleged that the hospital repeatedly failed to carry out those measures and that Park developed Stage IV pressure ulcers. He was transferred to Barlow Respiratory Hospital, where the wounds allegedly deteriorated and he developed sepsis. The Cedars-to-Barlow sequence is the Prager sequence. Cedars won summary judgment in March 2023, but Park’s widow was representing herself and did not oppose the motion, so the court had Cedars’ expert evidence and nothing against it. The ruling does not establish that a contested trial exonerated Cedars. It establishes that years before Prager another dependent Cedars patient was alleged to have suffered a Stage IV pressure injury after failures to carry out an every-two-hour repositioning plan.

Martin v. Cedars-Sinai Medical Center, case No. 24STCV00619, gets closer to the legal theory. Kirk Martin alleged that he developed a pressure wound during a Cedars hospitalization running from January 14 through March 7, 2023, and pleaded failures to train staff, recognize skin changes, provide sufficient staffing and protect him from pressure injury. He also alleged that Cedars diverted resources away from patient care. In October 2024, Judge Barbara Scheper held that Martin’s prolonged dependence on Cedars for repositioning and hygiene was sufficient to plead the custodial relationship required for dependent-adult neglect, and found the alleged failures in monitoring, staffing and treatment particularized enough to plead reckless neglect. That was a pleading ruling rather than a finding of fact. Its value is that a second judge of the Los Angeles Superior Court has now let a Cedars pressure-injury case cross from malpractice into the Elder Abuse Act.

Perez v. Cedars-Sinai Medical Center, case No. 20STCV37353, shows how Cedars beats the theory. The patient alleged that staff left him in feces and urine for extended periods, allowed pressure ulcers to develop, and maintained inadequate staffing to reduce costs. In October 2022, after several attempts to amend, Judge William Crowfoot rejected the elder-abuse theory. The problem was corporate attribution. Perez alleged inadequate budgets and understaffing and could not identify an officer, director or managing agent who authorized or ratified the misconduct.

That is the bottleneck, and both Watson and Prager have drafted straight into it. A nurse missing a turn does not establish that a Cedars managing agent disregarded patient safety. A badly staffed shift does not establish it either. Welfare and Institutions Code section 15657(c) imports the corporate-employer requirement of Civil Code section 3294(b), and under White v. Ultramar, Inc. a managing agent must exercise substantial independent authority over decisions that determine corporate policy. A charge nurse will not do. Watson’s opposition concedes the requirement and argues that the identity of those people can be developed in discovery, since the facts lie in Cedars’ hands. Prager’s FAC reserves DOES 1-10 for entities and individuals controlling management, budgeting and staffing, then alleges that managing agents set staffing levels and budgets, received quality and wound information, knew inadequate staffing made required turns impossible, and allowed the condition to continue. The distance between a large MICRA malpractice case and an explosive elder-abuse case may lie in a small number of documents inside Cedars.

Paragraph 39 of the Watson FAC alleges more than that Cedars was understaffed. It says Cedars’ officers, directors and managing agents had actual knowledge of persistent shortages of qualified nursing personnel, repeated state deficiencies for patient-care failures, and “internal reports identifying delayed repositioning and missed wound-prevention interventions.” It alleges they refused to allocate resources because of financial priorities. Paragraph 40 alleges that Cedars managing agents intentionally omitted required reports of hospital-acquired wounds to the California Department of Public Health, in violation of Health and Safety Code section 1279.1, which requires hospitals to report a defined list of adverse events, including Stage 3 and Stage 4 pressure ulcers acquired after admission.

Those allegations are not proof. The FAC does not identify the internal report by date or title. It names no executive who read one. It attaches no staffing numbers. It identifies no unreported CDPH incident by report number. But unlike a generic accusation that management knew, the allegations point toward categories of evidence that either exist or do not.

Here Watson could do the most work for Prager. His FAC alleges that the Cedars managing agents responsible for staffing and budgets knew from “quality metrics, chart audits, wound-care and incident reporting, regulatory findings, and prior similar occurrences” that inadequate staffing of high-acuity units created a high probability of pressure injuries in immobile patients. Read alone, that sentence sounds speculative. The Watson FAC, filed eight months earlier by different counsel, alleges internal reports identifying delayed repositioning and missed wound-prevention interventions. Two pleadings drafted by unrelated firms point at the same internal information system.

If Cedars maintained quality metrics showing missed turns, chart audits identifying deficient repositioning, hospital-acquired pressure injury reports tied to staffing, or management reports tracing pressure injuries to missed prevention interventions, those documents outweigh another plaintiff’s lawsuit by a wide margin. They could establish that Cedars did not merely understand in the abstract that immobile patients get bedsores. They could show that management knew its own prevention system was failing in particular ways before Dennis Prager arrived.

There are reasons not to treat the Watson FAC as a smoking gun. Much of its corporate language is pleading boilerplate. It accuses Cedars and Beverly Hills Rehabilitation Centre jointly of pursuing profit through understaffing and inadequate training, and pleads them as alter egos of each other, which is a strange thing to say about a tertiary academic medical center and a 24-hour skilled nursing facility on San Vicente Boulevard. It alleges four common “calculated business practices,” including relentless marketing to increase “resident and patient census” and recruiting “heavier care residents” who generated higher reimbursements. That language points at a nursing home.

The clearest drafting tell is paragraph 10, which invokes 42 C.F.R. section 483.75 when describing the governing body of both defendants. Section 483.75 is a long-term-care regulation, and since the 2016 rewrite of the federal nursing home rules it covers quality assurance and performance improvement, with the governing-body requirement moved elsewhere in part 483. The paragraph also cites 22 C.C.R. section 70035, the acute-hospital governing body regulation, so the drafters did reach for the right rule for Cedars. The federal citation looks like an inheritance from a nursing-home template drafted before 2016.

That weakens Watson as independent evidence that Cedars has a corporate policy of understaffing patients for profit. A lawyer can allege almost anything on information and belief. The overruling of Cedars’ demurrer does not mean Judge Crowley found the allegations true. On demurrer the court assumes material facts to be true and tests only whether the complaint states a legally viable claim. The April 22 ruling means Watson gets discovery and the chance to prove her theory.

The patient-specific allegations deserve more weight, and the drafters knew the difference. The residents’ rights count under Health and Safety Code section 1430(b) is pled only against the skilled nursing facility, because it reaches only skilled nursing facilities. The Cedars-specific section of the FAC carries dates, wound stages, measurements, consultation timing and alleged chart omissions. It alleges that by Watson’s final admission the sacral ulcer extended to bone, cultures grew Proteus mirabilis and Enterococcus faecalis, infectious-disease physicians repeatedly identified the infected wound as the source of her sepsis, and an autopsy attributed her death to sepsis likely originating in the pressure wound. Those assertions can be checked against medical records and an autopsy report.

One difference between the cases should not be blurred. Watson died, and her lawyers seek attorney fees, punitive damages and her pre-death suffering. Prager is alive. Under Samantha B. v. Aurora Vista Del Mar, LLC, a living plaintiff who proves reckless neglect recovers noneconomic damages outside the MICRA ceiling, so the same legal theory is worth considerably more in Prager’s hands than in Watson’s. Cedars also has a stronger unavoidability defense against a 73-pound woman with severe malnutrition and heart failure than against a man whose own chart shows a wound nurse finding intact skin on December 11, 2024 and a deep tissue injury eight or nine days later. Cedars will want both cases to look like Carter v. Prime Healthcare Paradise Valley LLC, where seriously deficient hospital care around pressure ulcers still fell short of the culpable neglect the Act requires. The plaintiffs want Sababin and Fenimore, and the recklessness standard of Delaney v. Baker, which asks whether the defendant deliberately disregarded a high probability of injury.

So much for what Watson does for Prager. What it means for Cedars-Sinai is a different question, and a longer one.

Did Dennis Prager’s pressure injuries fit a pattern that Cedars-Sinai had already identified, measured and tried to correct? Watson sharpens that question in three ways.

The first is who is left in the room. Beverly Hills Rehabilitation Centre obtained approval of a good-faith settlement in October 2025 and was dismissed with prejudice on January 5, 2026. Cedars is the remaining institutional defendant heading toward the 2027 trial. Prager’s original suit named Cedars, Barlow Respiratory Hospital and Rancho Los Amigos, and his FAC dropped the other two. In both cases a pressure-injury narrative that began across multiple facilities has narrowed to what happened inside Cedars.

The second is sequence. Watson has a trial date of August 23, 2027. Prager, before Judge Edward B. Moreton, Jr. in Beverly Hills, has none. Cedars will litigate the managing-agent question in Watson first, in open court, with a jury, while the Prager case is still in discovery. Whatever Cedars produces to the Peck firm about staffing, wound reporting and executive knowledge becomes a template for what Prager’s lawyers know to ask for, and any position Cedars takes about who sets staffing and who receives wound data will be on the record before Prager tries the same issue.

The third is corroboration, and it needs care. Two lawsuits cannot tell us the incidence of pressure injuries across tens of thousands of Cedars admissions. Plaintiffs select bad outcomes. Complaints are advocacy documents. The convergence here does not come from a shared plaintiffs’ firm, since Peck filed Watson and Prager is represented by Heather Gibson with Bryan Garrie and Matthew Tyson, but it does come from a shared statute and a shared appellate map, which explains a good deal of the similarity without any institutional failure at all.

What raises the question above the pleadings is the surrounding record, and nearly all of it was published by Cedars. It starts earlier than I first understood. At the American Association of Critical-Care Nurses National Teaching Institute in 2013, Cedars nurses reported that the hospital had exceeded the CALNOC benchmark for hospital-acquired pressure ulcers for seven consecutive quarters from late 2009 through 2012, and named intensive care and progressive care units as the primary contributors. Cedars responded in a way that matters to this lawsuit. From January 2012, every hospital-acquired ulcer triggered a debrief with the staff who had cared for the patient during the preceding three shifts. They rebuilt a timeline of Braden scores, skin assessments, activity, nutrition and prevention measures, then looked for contributing factors, lost opportunities, process failures and individual behaviors that may have produced the wound. The monthly counts they reported for 2012 run 47, 34, 18, 18, 22, 33, 28 and 17. The program eventually pushed Cedars below the benchmark. Whatever else that record shows, it disposes of the idea that reconstructing missed turns after a pressure injury is a lawyer’s invention. Cedars designed the method fourteen years ago, and the obvious question is whether it was still running in 2024, and if so, where Prager’s debrief is.

A 2016 paper by two Cedars nurses on an orthopedic unit goes further and changes how the staffing allegation should be framed. The unit had recorded 25 hospital-acquired ulcers in fiscal 2012, six of them suspected deep tissue injuries, and the investigation found device-related injuries, injuries discovered after transfers from other units, incomplete skin examinations and knowledge gaps. Cedars responded with individualized action plans, wound-care champions, charge-nurse responsibilities and root-cause analysis for every new injury, each involving the nurses and aides from the preceding three days. Those reviews sometimes found that nurses who believed they had performed adequate skin assessments had not fully examined the buttocks. Two details deserve quoting into any complaint. Cedars guidelines required bedridden patients to be repositioned at least every two hours and expressly required two-person assistance to do it properly, and for hip-fracture and multi-trauma patients required an adequate number of staff to move the patient while maintaining alignment. And the authors conceded that even after dramatic improvement, some guidelines remained difficult to enforce, naming turning patients and removing devices for complete skin examinations. This was one unit a decade before Prager and it does not establish the policy that governed him. It does mean Cedars had already written down, in its own nurses’ words, that turning a large immobile trauma patient can take more than one person.

That reframes the argument. The weak version is that Cedars was understaffed, therefore Prager was not turned, and it loses against a hospital-wide engagement survey. The strong version asks whether enough people were on the unit at the moments his ordered turns came due. Cedars’ own research operation was working the same ground. A CALNOC study co-authored by a Cedars research scientist analyzed 789 medical-surgical units at 215 hospitals and found fewer pressure ulcers where nursing hours were higher, registered nurse experience greater, contract-staff hours lower and risk assessment more consistent. That was not a study of Cedars patients, and nobody should pretend otherwise. It does mean the causal model in Prager’s paragraph 52 is one Cedars personnel helped build. Cedars investigators also published in 2017 on the Braden Scale in liver transplant patients, describing it as the hospital’s standard tool for identifying patients who need additional care to prevent pressure ulcers, and finding that low scores predicted poor mobility, longer stays and discharge to rehabilitation. That turns the plaintiffs’ claim into something structured rather than anecdotal. Cedars quantified Prager’s risk on its own instrument. The score triggered defined interventions. Do the records show those interventions completed, and was there any interval when his score worsened without the prevention escalating?

By the last decade the problem was back. Cedars’ 2020-21 Nursing Annual Report says wound-care nurses detected an “unfavorable trend” in Stage II and higher hospital-acquired pressure injuries during fiscal 2020, and that prevalence was benchmarking higher than comparable institutions in the national database. Cedars mounted an organization-wide prevention effort through its Wound, Ostomy and Continence Nurses team and Nursing Administrative Leadership, and reported a 62 percent reduction. The evidence cuts both ways. Cedars can say it found a quality problem and fixed it. For the Pragers the same document establishes institutional notice years before Dennis Prager arrived: nursing leadership knew the injuries were occurring at a level it called unfavorable, knew how they are prevented, and built a system to prevent them.

The managing-agent trail also became less hypothetical, and the source is Cedars’ own. In an abstract presented to the World Council of Enterostomal Therapists congress in 2024, six Cedars authors describe how their 900-plus-bed level 1 trauma hospital assembled an interdisciplinary taskforce headed by the Chief Nursing Officer to address identified barriers to pressure-injury prevention. Twelve departments took part: Nursing Research and Quality Improvement, Nursing, Supply Chain, Risk Management, Medicine, Surgery, Clinical Engineering, Physical and Occupational Therapy, Performance Improvement, Licensure, Accreditation and Regulation, IT, and Epidemiology. Cases were counted through an organizational dashboard report. Cedars built an electronic data adjudication process, standardized wound terminology with its providers, and gave 36 educational sessions to a thousand nurses. Read the results before drawing any conclusion. The rate of reportable hospital-acquired pressure injuries rose 44.5 percent in 2020 against a 2019 baseline of 10.15, then fell 81.2 percent in 2021 and 95.5 percent in 2022, with $4 to $7 million in savings. This is a hospital describing a pandemic-era spike that it then crushed. What the abstract establishes for the Prager and Watson pleadings is narrower and still consequential: Cedars had lifted pressure-injury prevention out of bedside nursing and put it under a C-suite nursing executive, with Risk Management and regulatory staff at the table and a dashboard counting the cases. That does not show that any managing agent authorized understaffing or disregarded anyone’s safety. It identifies the structure through which information about prevention failures could reach people with authority to set corporate policy, which is the showing Perez could not make.

The same abstract cites an earlier Cedars project that may matter more to Prager than anything else in the public record: a quality-improvement effort on acute skin failure determination in critically ill patients, run through collaboration between wound, ostomy and continence nurses and physicians. Cedars was not merely counting wounds. It had built a process for deciding whether tissue destruction in a catastrophically ill patient was a preventable hospital-acquired injury or acute skin failure, the breakdown that accompanies shock, vasopressors and multi-organ stress. That is the defense Cedars will run at trial, and Cedars ran it internally first. So the question becomes documentary. Was Prager’s wound submitted for adjudication? Was an acute skin failure determination considered, made, or reversed? Who took part, what criteria applied in 2024, and did a physician have to concur? A contemporaneous internal classification, made by Cedars clinicians with no litigation in view, would carry more weight than any expert retained in 2026, and it could land on either side.

Six months before Prager’s accident, that taskforce presented again. On May 16, 2024, five Cedars wound-care nurses took a poster to the Symposium on Advanced Wound Care whose premise was that despite an existing pressure-injury prevention protocol, injuries continued to occur and had raised serious concerns among nursing leadership. The taskforce existed to identify barriers to prevention and establish corrective plans, and its members were working with Nursing Research on electronic adjudication of injury data, with Supply Chain on equipment, and with critical-care providers to standardize the diagnosis and documentation of acute skin failure. The wording is what counts. Cedars did not say it lacked a protocol and needed one. It said it had a protocol and injuries were happening anyway. That distinction, between possessing a rule and reliably carrying it out, may be the central factual question in Prager’s case, and it means the plaintiffs’ institutional argument no longer depends on proving ignorance. It depends on reliability. Dennis Prager arrived in November. What barriers had Cedars identified before then, unit by unit, and had they been corrected?

The unit-level record from 2024 is where this gets specific, and where care is most necessary. In the American Association of Critical-Care Nurses 2026 National Teaching Institute abstract collection, Cedars personnel describe “increasing numbers” of Stage I and Stage II hospital-acquired pressure injuries on a 62-bed surgical and transplant progressive-care unit. The unit is 6 North, which Cedars’ current nursing report identifies as its transplant and surgical progressive care unit. The intervention ran from January through December 2024, the calendar year Prager was admitted. It followed a root-cause analysis and required Braden assessments, repositioning every two hours, low-air-loss beds and skin assessment every shift, with registered nurses, clinical partners, wound nurses and pressure-injury champions taking part. Compliance with repositioning, specialty-bed use and skin checks was audited every shift, and the data went into Tableau and back out monthly. The result was 36 injuries in 2023 and 33 in 2024, an 8.3 percent reduction, with Cedars reporting further improvement the following fiscal year. Sit with that number. A unit running two-hour turning with every-shift compliance audits moved the count by three over a year, which tells you something about how hard the elementary task is to guarantee, and cuts against anyone in this story who thinks the answer is simple. Cedars also reports that 6 North held an AACN Beacon Bronze award for 2022 through 2025 and reached Gold for 2025-26. A recognized high-performing unit still needed the project. What makes all of this potentially decisive rather than contextual is the auditing. If Prager occupied 6 North at any point, Cedars generated shift-level compliance data during his admission that exists outside his chart.

The same collection carries two abstracts from a Cedars surgical intensive care unit that deserve more care than any other item in this story. In the first, SICU nurses report that inconsistencies in charge nurse communication and workflow had contributed to gaps in shift handoff, incomplete audits and missed opportunities for early intervention in patient care, with baseline compliance below 50 percent. Cedars responded with a charge nurse workflow audit sheet, standardized SBAR handoffs, structured shift emails, chart review and electronic auditing, and reports that pressure injuries fell after earlier identification and structured skin assessments using thermal imaging and a two-nurse skin handoff. Read that slowly, because it is the closest thing in the public record to the Prager theory stated in Cedars’ own words, and because the abstract does not say when the sub-50-percent baseline was measured. Nobody should assert that those failures existed during his November and December 2024 stay. Discovery or a better source has to fix the baseline period first. The second abstract records that this 24-bed SICU logged 31 unplanned dislodgements of invasive lines, drains or airways between January and May 2024, which prompted a June 2024 taskforce built around standardized handoffs, mobilization timeouts, securement protocols and monthly auditing. That is not pressure-injury evidence and should not be dressed up as any. It shows a unit working on handoff reliability and audit compliance during the year Prager was admitted, which makes its contemporaneous files worth reading if this was his ICU.

The imaging in that abstract is no longer a vendor claim. Cedars SICU nurses describe using long-wave infrared imaging, a system meant to detect the thermal anomalies that accompany deep tissue injury, as part of earlier identification and structured skin assessment. The relevance to Prager is obvious: a wound nurse allegedly found intact skin on December 11 and a deep tissue injury appears around December 18-20, and a deep tissue injury by definition begins beneath skin that still looks normal. Nobody should turn that into a claim that Cedars was negligent for failing to scan him. International guidance treats the technology as an adjunct rather than a diagnostic, and says its effect on pressure-injury occurrence has not been demonstrated. The questions are factual. Was the equipment in service in December 2024, on which units, under what protocol, and was Prager scanned? If he was, the images and their user logs carry timestamps independent of any nursing flowsheet.

Four days before Prager was admitted, Cedars held its 30th Annual Nursing Research Conference. Pressure injuries were not one stray poster on the program. The patient-safety session carried projects on device-related pressure injuries in the surgical intensive care unit, hospital-acquired injuries on 3 South, injuries acquired in the operating room, one called “All Hands-on Deck in Reducing Our HAPIs,” and another on improving skin assessments. Cedars listed one conference objective as developing evidence-based strategies to reduce nurse-sensitive indicators and hospital-acquired conditions. That establishes no failure in anyone’s care. It does establish that on November 8, 2024, prevention and the reliability of prevention were live working subjects across several Cedars units, including the SICU.

The incident-reporting system can also be named. A 2023 study written by Cedars clinicians and researchers says the hospital used the RLDatix platform to submit, track and follow up on patient safety incident reports, that all staff could file them though most came from nurses, and that each report carried structured data fields alongside a free-text narrative. The sentence that bears on the elder-abuse claim is the next one: those reports were received by nursing unit leaders and medical center patient safety staff, including the chief patient safety officer as well as nursing and pharmacy leaders. Cedars’ health equity report says the hospital systematically tracks and analyzes adverse events such as hospital-acquired pressure injuries, and that from December 2023 demographic stratification became a standard part of its root-cause-analysis investigations. Cedars researchers have kept working that corpus: in early 2026 they published in the Joint Commission Journal on Quality and Patient Safety an analysis of 288 near misses reported during 2024 from the health system’s inpatient critical care units. The SAFE Loop paper also describes what its authors could pull at unit level: nurses assigned, the share of travel and registry staff, turnover, the number of associate directors, assistant nurse managers and clinical nurse educators, staff names, titles, percent effort, dates on the unit and work schedules. Cedars can hardly argue that a unit-by-unit, shift-by-shift staffing reconstruction is impossible when its own researchers have already assembled one.

The prevention reporting has a named rhythm too, and it reaches into the operating rooms. A Cedars perioperative project, “Four Eyes Are Better Than Two: Improving Skin Assessments,” says that from August 2022 Cedars required two-nurse skin assessments for perioperative patients, five-layer foam dressings over the sacrum and other threatened areas, pressure-injury education, and prevention champions across the perioperative units. The stated reason is the useful part. Skin assessment had been treated as an inpatient responsibility until longer postoperative waits and injuries arriving from the community forced Cedars to extend surveillance across administrative boundaries. Pressure-injury risk does not respect unit lines, and Prager underwent major spine surgery and moved through several high-risk environments. The project measured itself through the organization’s weekly pressure-injury report, created Pressure Ulcer Prevention “PUP Stars” who reviewed those reports and ran randomized chart audits for compliance, and worked with unit leadership and the Executive Information Services team. Cedars elsewhere describes those same personnel taking part in national prevalence studies by physically checking patients’ skin, which makes the quarterly prevalence work a recurring direct observation rather than an administrative spreadsheet. The perioperative counts ran 26 reported injuries in a 24-hour pre-op and post-op unit in fiscal 2022 and 85 across six perioperative departments, falling to seven and 65 after the intervention. Both sides can use those numbers. What they establish is the machinery: a recurring weekly report, designated people reading it, randomized audits, direct skin surveys, and information services building what the auditors asked for.

Cedars can also point to a unit that got this right. The hospital posted publicly that innovations in its medical intensive care unit had eliminated ventilator-associated pneumonia and pressure injuries for an entire year, in a unit caring for some of its sickest patients. That complicates the institutional story in a useful way. Cedars demonstrably could prevent pressure injuries in extremely high-acuity patients, while other units kept mounting new prevention projects. Which suggests the unit, not the hospital, is the right level of analysis, and makes Prager’s complete bed-movement history, room numbers, unit names and timestamps the first thing his lawyers should obtain.

The work continued after he left. At Cedars’ 31st Annual Nursing Research Conference in 2025, nurses presented a project under the nurse-sensitive-indicator track titled “HAPIest Place No More: Decreasing HAPI Rates on PCU.” The public agenda gives neither the unit number nor the underlying rate, so it connects to nothing in this case yet. What it shows is the pattern. Pressure-injury prevention at Cedars is managed unit by unit, with different leaders, champions, audits and interventions on each, which is why one record from Prager’s chart governs the value of everything else in this essay. Once his rooms and nursing units are known, the hospital’s own public quality-improvement record can be laid against his hospitalization almost shift by shift.

The unit lens brings one more staffing question into focus, and it is narrower than ratios. Cedars’ current nursing report describes a project built by its neurosurgery step-down unit and Nursing Operations in response to isolation and anxiety among staff sent to float onto unfamiliar units, which produced a standardized welcome and a guide supplying float registered nurses, clinical partners, care technicians and mental health workers with patient ratios, unit expectations, schedules and key contacts. That is quality improvement after the fact and the report does not say when the underlying problem started, so it establishes nothing about 2024. It does identify a failure mode that has nothing to do with headcount. A unit can be fully staffed on paper while a meaningful share of a shift is worked by people who do not know that unit’s turning and skin-assessment expectations. If Prager was on a neuroscience or step-down unit, the float assignments for his shifts, the share of each shift worked by non-home-unit personnel, the orientation materials in use in late 2024 and whether float staff were included in compliance audits become worth more than the hospital-wide numbers.

Staffing complaints have their own history. SEIU-UHW represents about 2,000 Cedars workers, largely certified nursing assistants, clinical partners, technicians, transporters and food and environmental services staff rather than registered nurses or physicians. Hundreds of them struck from May 9 to May 13, 2022 over staffing and patient safety. The strike ended without an agreement and a contract was ratified on May 27. Some of those workers do the physical labor an immobile patient needs, including hygiene, mobility and assistance with turning. The Los Angeles Times reported that the union attacked Cedars’ record on dangerous bed sores while arguing that short staffing was compromising patient care, and the union said after ratifying a 2025 agreement covering more than 1,200 main-campus employees, clinical partners among them, that the deal strengthened workers’ ability to advocate for safe staffing. Union statements are advocacy and prove nothing about staffing levels, about what any ratio legally required, or about causation, and that ratification came after Prager was discharged. The bargaining record behind it is a different matter, because negotiations were running through late 2024.

The Watson chronology intersects the 2022 strike week. She was readmitted to Cedars on May 15, 2022, two days after the strike ended, and the FAC alleges that a dietitian documented her first Cedars-acquired Stage II sacral injury on May 16. She was at the nursing facility during the walkout, so the strike cannot be blamed for her wound. What it does is make one week of Cedars staffing records concrete, dated and discoverable.

Cedars also has a contemporaneous answer to the broad understaffing theory, and it is stronger than the aggregate quality data. Its Magnet nurse engagement survey closed in October 2024, about a month before Prager arrived. Cedars reports 3,286 responses from 4,243 eligible nurses, a 77 percent response rate, with 65 of 70 eligible units or departments beating the benchmark in at least three of four categories and 96 percent of units beating the benchmark for adequacy of resources and staffing. Overall satisfaction beat the benchmark in all seven categories. That does not answer whether Prager’s units and shifts were adequately staffed. A hospital can score well across seventy units while one intensive care shift absorbs callouts, unusual acuity and thin clinical-partner coverage. And the comparison need not rest on punch cards reconstructed after the fact. Cedars has described running daily census forecasting through a capacity command center, synthesizing thousands of predictions to plan staffing, patient placement and discharges, with a reported census forecasting error around 3.7 percent. Forecast against actual, by unit and by day, for November 12 through January 2, is a document request rather than an argument.

Aggregate data cut against the plaintiffs too. For the July 2022 through June 2024 reporting period, Cedars had a PSI-03 pressure-ulcer rate of about 0.75 per 1,000 eligible discharges against a Leapfrog hospital average of about 0.60. Numerically Cedars was worse. Statistically the estimate was not significantly different from the national rate. Current Leapfrog data also credit Cedars with meeting nursing-staffing standards. The figures sit in Cedars’ profile at The Leapfrog Group’s Hospital Safety Grade. A hospital that treats the sickest patients in Los Angeles will run a rate above the mean for reasons that have nothing to do with neglect.

There is regulatory evidence of another sort, and the dates are tight. Federal inspectors were at Cedars on January 7 through 9, 2025, five days after Prager was discharged on January 2. In a sample of 30 patients they found failures of nursing implementation. An intubated patient transferred in for higher-level care had no completed nursing admission assessment, which a Cedars nurse educator confirmed. A patient with a PICC line had no corresponding nursing care plan. A patient in contact isolation had no infection care plan. A patient underwent bilateral lower-extremity wound debridement without a completed pre-procedure checklist. The findings sit in the Association of Health Care Journalists’ HospitalInspections.org database. None of it shows that anyone failed to turn Dennis Prager. It speaks to the theory his case presents, because his pleading does not allege that Cedars lacked sophisticated policies. It alleges repeated Braden assessments, a prevention plan, a specialty mattress and physician orders for repositioning, and then alleges that what existed on paper was not carried out at the bedside. The survey also quotes Cedars’ own care plan policy, dated May 20, 2024 and in force throughout his admission, which says the care plan directs nursing care from admission to discharge, should be updated throughout the stay, serves as the database for change-of-shift reports, and can be a management tool for determining staffing needs and assignments. Cedars has therefore tied documentation to staffing in its own words, which is the link the plaintiffs are trying to build.

Cedars has written about the other side of that link too. An AHRQ case study describes the hospital receiving quarterly quality reports showing higher-than-expected pressure-ulcer cases and finding it hard to tell whether the numbers reflected clinical failures or documentation inaccuracies. AHRQ titled the section “Closing the Gap Between Clinical Documentation and Clinical Reality.” That is the evidentiary dispute Prager presents, in reverse. His lawyers will argue that missing turning documentation plus a wound supports the inference that the turns did not happen. Cedars can answer that missing documentation is not missing care, and can cite its own longstanding recognition of the problem. Blank flowsheet entries alone will not carry the case.

So the record leaves a question rather than a verdict, and it is a stranger question than the pleadings suggest. Cedars had been studying why turns and skin checks fail since 2009. It built a debrief process to reconstruct the three shifts before an injury. Its nurses wrote that turning an immobile trauma patient can take two people. Its research scientists helped publish the link between nursing hours, contract staffing and pressure ulcers, and its own investigators published on the risk score that governs prevention. It ran a taskforce under a nursing executive, dashboards, electronic adjudication, incident reports routed to its chief patient safety officer, a method for separating preventable injuries from acute skin failure, imaging meant to find damage under intact skin, two-nurse skin assessments reaching into the operating rooms, every-shift compliance audits on at least one unit, and daily census forecasting to plan staffing. Six months before Prager arrived it said in public that injuries were still occurring and that barriers to prevention remained. Were his alleged missed turns isolated mistakes inside that apparatus, or evidence that an elaborate prevention system was failing at the elementary task it was built to guarantee?

The discovery that would answer it is now obvious, and most of it can be requested by name. Start with the admission, discharge and transfer record for November 12, 2024 through January 2, 2025, showing every room, bed, unit, service, level of care and transfer timestamp, because that single document decides which of the trails above reaches him. Then the barrier analyses behind the taskforce, meaning the working papers rather than the poster summaries: cause-and-effect and fishbone diagrams, Pareto charts, failure-mode analyses, barrier-ranking worksheets, meeting slides and unit-specific action plans. If insufficient staff to reposition dependent patients, handoff failures, noncompliance with two-hour turning or unfamiliarity among new staff appeared on a pre-November 2024 barrier list, that is worth more than any expert testifying about what can cause a bedsore. Then the taskforce charter, membership, minutes and dashboard reports. The weekly pressure-injury report, its underlying data and its distribution lists, with the PUP Star reviews and randomized chart audits. National prevalence submissions by unit, with stage distribution and present-on-admission classifications. Adjudication records and any acute skin failure determination touching Prager. The debrief or root-cause file for his wound, and if none exists, when that practice ended and what replaced it. Shift-level compliance audits for repositioning, specialty-bed use and skin checks on whatever units he occupied. His complete perioperative skin-assessment sequence: before surgery, immediately after, in recovery, on arrival at the receiving unit, and at every transfer, since the question is not only when the injury was first charted but whether anyone recorded suspicious skin at a handoff. Charge nurse workflow audit sheets, SBAR shift emails and handoff records. Thermal images and their user logs. Two-nurse skin handoff records. Every RLDatix record associated with him, with his pressure injuries, and with missed repositioning and skin-integrity events on his units, together with the audit trail showing creation, routing, receipt, assignment, investigation, closure and escalation, and the list of positions that automatically received each category of report. Registered nurse, clinical partner and float assignments for every shift, the staffing matrix for those units, vacancies, callouts, sitters, overtime, registry labor, and forecast against actual census and staffing. The 2024 and 2025 bargaining file on clinical partner staffing, patient handling, turning assistance, unfilled positions, overtime, registry use and unit-specific workload complaints, with management’s responses. Visitor logs for the December window, since identifiable outsiders were in the room and Prager’s brother, a physician, has said publicly that he flew out the day after the injury and described Dennis as unable to move his arms and legs and able to move only a toe, an account he gave on December 20, in the middle of the window when the wound is said to have appeared. And the underlying electronic record rather than rendered printouts: order-set activation, modifications, acknowledgments, task completion, flowsheet edits, late entries, corrections, user identifiers, timestamps and alerts. If the system generated prevention tasks that were repeatedly left incomplete, that is a different case from blank boxes on a chart.

Several of those requests can now be made by name. Cedars personnel have publicly described Nursing Sensitive Indicator data, wound-nurse adjudication of injuries, unit-level root-cause analysis built on the National Pressure Injury Advisory Panel tool, and unit common-cause analyses covering fiscal 2023 and 2024. So ask for the indicator data and its data dictionary, which is where the real questions live: how Cedars defined a hospital-acquired injury, how injuries were assigned to units, who could change a classification after adjudication, who received the resulting reports and whether executive nursing leadership was shown unit outliers. Ask for the common-cause analyses by name. One academic description of that work was withdrawn by its author before publication, which means its conclusions are not evidence of anything and should not be treated as any. The hospital records it referred to, if they exist, are discoverable regardless of what became of the paper.

One document test is simple enough to answer in a single interrogatory. Section 1279.1 and the adverse-event regulations effective January 1, 2022 require a general acute care hospital to report a Stage 3, Stage 4 or unstageable pressure ulcer acquired after admission no later than five days after detection, or within 24 hours if it presents an ongoing urgent threat, and to inform the patient or the responsible party by the time the report is made. So: did Cedars classify Prager’s injury as Stage 3, Stage 4 or unstageable before discharge? If it did, produce the submission, its date, the supporting investigation, and the record of when Dennis or Susan Prager was told. If it did not, identify why the wound fell outside the criterion. The answer may well favor Cedars. A deep tissue injury becomes reportable only if it progresses to Stage 3, Stage 4 or unstageable, and the FAC dates the deterioration to Stage IV after the transfer out. The same question runs against Watson, whose paragraph 40 alleges that Cedars managing agents intentionally omitted these reports, and there the wounds reached bone while she was in the hospital.

Above all, the discovery has to establish who received the reports. The Pragers need names. If pressure-injury data moved upward to executives or senior nursing administrators with authority over staffing, budgets or hospital policy, those documents may bridge the gap between a neglected patient in a bed and the managing-agent proof California requires.

If the phrases dissolve under discovery into lawyerly inference, both cases collapse into what Cedars wants them to be: individual malpractice claims about catastrophically sick patients who developed known complications despite enormous amounts of care.

If the documents exist, the story is different, and it is not the story either complaint tells. It would not be a hospital indifferent to bedsores. It would be a hospital that had studied this failure for fifteen years, built an apparatus against it, and still could not guarantee that a 270-pound insensate quadriplegic with charted turn orders got turned. Which brings everything back to one missing record. If the bed log puts Prager in the intensive care unit that later acknowledged incomplete audits and missed opportunities for early intervention, that abstract becomes the center of the case. If it puts him on a unit whose staffing and management data Cedars researchers have already extracted, the reconstruction gets easy. If it puts him on 6 North, the 36 injuries in 2023 and 33 in 2024 stop being background and the every-shift audits become the record that matters. If it puts him on the progressive care unit that produced “HAPIest Place No More,” that title stops being funny. Until that document surfaces, the public record offers several powerful trails and no way to know which one reaches Dennis Prager’s bed.

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The Criticism Was Right and It Did Nothing: Andrew Gelman, Seth Roberts, and the Limits of Being Correct

On February 6, 2025, Andrew Gelman (b. 1965) wrote about a Florida man whose cholesterol had begun collecting in yellow lumps under his skin after eight months of eating little but butter, cheese, and beef. Gelman put the question in his own title: how much am I to blame for this? He answered that he felt a share. Twenty years earlier he had promoted a psychologist named Seth Roberts (1953-2014) and his method of studying himself. Roberts spent his last months eating half a stick of butter a day to improve his brain speed. Reading back over the objections he had raised to Roberts in 2007, Gelman wrote, “In retrospect, I think I was too mild.”

The standard account of Gelman’s blog holds that he is the scourge of weak statistics, the man who takes apart the noisy study with the spectacular finding. The Roberts story runs the other way. Here Gelman is the promoter. His blog took an obscure journal article and delivered it to the New York Times. And here his criticism, delivered early, delivered often, delivered in print with the subject answering on the facing page, changed nothing at all.

They met in the early 1990s at Berkeley. Roberts came to the statistics seminar and the two of them talked about graphics. Berkeley was pushing faculty to teach freshman seminars, Gelman wanted to run one on left-handedness, and he asked the one psychologist he knew for a recommendation. Roberts volunteered. They taught it together and then had lunch regularly for years. Roberts told him about the experiments he ran on his own body: standing eight hours a day to sleep better, watching taped late-night monologues in the morning because life-sized faces lifted his mood, drinking unflavored sugar water to lose weight. He had spent close to ten years on the sleep problem before he turned to mood.

Gelman found the persistence admirable and the theory plausible. In April 2006 he reviewed The Shangri-La Diet on his blog, said he had known Seth for over ten years, and wrote that the case “seems pretty convincing to me,” adding that he had not tried the diet. Three months earlier he had told readers with New Year’s resolutions about happiness or weight to try Seth’s methods. In September 2005 he had written a defense of the whole approach, arguing that experiments that look easy had in fact cost Roberts years of disciplined measurement.

Roberts recorded what that did for him. In a May 2006 post called “The Ecology of New Ideas,” he traced the chain: his open-access self-experimentation article, then Gelman’s blog, then Alex Tabarrok at Marginal Revolution, then Stephen Dubner, then a Freakonomics column in the New York Times, then a book contract. He wrote it out again more formally in a 2012 article on the reception of his work, contrasting the coldness of his own profession with the interest he found outside it. His profession had no use for him. Gelman’s readers made him famous.

There is a small joke buried in the middle of this. In May 2007 Roberts interviewed Gelman about blogging, three parts over six days, the first extended account Gelman ever gave of what the blog was for. The man whose book the blog had built was asking the builder how the thing worked. Gelman told him the blog had started as a forum for his students, that the students never posted, and that he had developed an equanimous blog personality. In part three he mentioned a thousand readers a day and admitted he had no idea where the number came from.

Gelman’s first post on Roberts, March 16, 2005, praises the work and then asks: “What is the point where researchers should jump to a larger controlled trial?” Three weeks later, on April 8, he published an exchange with Roberts about control treatments and statistical power. In July 2006, defending himself against the charge that he was too hard on unconventional research, he cited Roberts as a case he had treated well, and said in the same breath that he thought replication plausible but could not be sure. In April 2006 he asked why Roberts had never tested the diet on rats, which would be cheap and would speak to the animal literature the theory rested on. Roberts answered that he and a collaborator had asked and been refused, because the committee thought the result impossible.

On April 23, 2007, Roberts reported that his balance improved on flaxseed oil compared with olive oil. Gelman’s first thought was measurement bias, since Roberts knew which oil he had taken and the balance test was hard. That August he proposed that Roberts have a partner assign the treatments blind, because expectation and noisy measurement can feed each other until an effect looks solid. Roberts replied that his findings had often surprised him and so could not be running on expectation.

Later in 2007 the two of them published the argument. “Weight Loss, Self-Experimentation, and Web Trials: A Conversation” ran in Chance, and the full text is on Gelman’s site. He grants a good deal: web trials can gather data cheaply, allow partial randomization, and study heterogeneity in ways a conventional trial cannot. He grants that clinical trials are often too small for subgroup claims and too slow to permit invention along the way. When Roberts argues that equalizing expectations can substitute for blinding, Gelman concedes he may be right and admits he does not know that literature.

Then he lays out the objections. No blinding. Protocol failures. Selection into the diet by people already unlike everyone else. Dropout. Measurement error. Motivation as an alternative route to both the weight and the mood results. Biases that cannot be assumed to cancel. He offers a design that would separate Roberts’s set-point theory from a duller explanation: give one group the oil away from meals and another group the oil with meals. And he tells Roberts he would believe the results a lot more if the treatments were blinded.

Roberts conceded that blinding would improve the oil experiment. He did not blind it.

The criticism kept coming. March 2009: Gelman says he is always skeptical when Roberts announces a new benefit, because Roberts may be hoping for the effect and then finding it, and because the reports reaching him come from people for whom the thing worked. June 2009: the acne anecdotes do not persuade him, and here is a cheap randomized volunteer study that might. January 2010: expectation could have a huge effect on Roberts’s own measurements, and here is why randomizing his particular design is hard and still worth doing.

On April 1, 2012, Gelman posted a randomized trial of the set-point diet, complete with an abstract from Nutrition. It was an April Fools fabrication. He noted that regular readers would know he had been waiting for this one a while. Seven years of asking had produced a joke, and the joke worked because the study did not exist.

Roberts answered everything. The next step after n of one should be n of one on somebody else, because a large study smuggles in assumptions nobody has tested. Self-experimentation costs nothing and permits treatments no grant would ever fund. Many things he tried failed, and some successes surprised him, so expectation cannot be doing all the work. He published his data, his graphs, and his R code. When a reader ran a reaction-time study that contradicted his soy theory, Roberts posted it with a link.

That transparency is part of the problem. Gelman would later write, citing his own paper on the subject, that honesty and openness are not enough. Roberts described exactly what he did. What he did could not support the conclusions he drew from it. A technically sophisticated person can understand a criticism, agree that the criticism is logically legitimate, continue collecting data, and nevertheless preserve the belief because the entire system producing and interpreting the evidence belongs to him.

Then the pace changed. It had taken Roberts ten years to solve his sleep. By the last few years, everything worked. Acne, mood, reaction time, brain speed. In July 2018 Gelman put the point in one line: he started to let his ambition get ahead of him. Sleep hours and body weight can be measured. Brain function measured by quizzes you give yourself is another thing, and it does not take much unconscious bias to produce a clean result on a test you administer to yourself, about a treatment you invented, while an audience waits for the answer.

The last treatment was butter. Half a stick a day. A cardiologist in one of his audiences told him he was killing himself. Roberts answered that his own data beat epidemiology and its questionable assumptions.

Roberts had measured his own coronary calcium. After eating half a stick of butter a day for a year, he underwent a second scan and reported that his Agatston score had fallen. He took the result as evidence that his risk of a heart attack had gone down.

This may be the most revealing self-experiment he ever performed. The measurement did not save him from the mistake. It reinforced it. Serial coronary-calcium scores have enough scan-to-scan variability that cardiology guidelines were already cautious about using changes in the score to monitor treatment, and the clinical meaning of apparent regression was uncertain. Roberts had done what he always said scientists should do: measure himself. The problem was that a measurement can be precise enough to persuade you and still be inadequate to answer the question you are asking.

He collapsed while hiking in Berkeley on April 26, 2014, at sixty. Occlusive coronary artery disease and an enlarged heart contributed to his death. His final column, published two days later, was called “Butter Makes Me Smarter.”

Gelman posted an obituary four days after. It praises the persistence and states the methodological failure without softening it: Roberts did little to reduce, control, or adjust for bias in his measurements, and he never systematically gathered data on other people. The comments filled with tributes. Gelman ended by saying it was good that Seth had found an online community that valued him.

Nine years later he took that back.

In a November 20, 2023 post, Gelman says his doctor told him his cholesterol was high and he needed to lose weight. He tried the Shangri-La diet for a few days, along with the eating less that Roberts always said the diet made easier. Then he thought: if the point is to eat less, why not just eat less. He dropped the sugar water and lost the weight anyway.

Had he stayed on it, he writes, he would be another testimonial. He would be telling you that only after switching had he been able to eat less without suffering. He would have been wrong, and there is no way he could have known.

A commenter named Juraj says you have abandoned a belief on the strength of a biased anecdote, which is the thing you spend your life criticizing. Gelman concedes the point and turns it into the argument: “Live by the anecdote, die by the anecdote.” Seth’s anecdote convinced him. His own anecdote unconvinced him. Neither one was evidence.

Roberts had a blog audience cheering every move, and Gelman writes that when people cheer your every move it becomes easier to fool yourself. In the comments the epidemiologist Sander Greenland observes that with death as your outcome you get no second trial, and Gelman agrees with him that the self-experimentation and the applause from admirers may have killed the man.

A woman named Wendy, who had known Roberts since the early eighties, wrote that the piece read as cruel innuendo about a kind man who could no longer answer. Alex Chernavsky, who runs a memorial site and has followed the diet since 2009, disputed the placebo account with fourteen years of his own weight data. Gary Wolf of the Quantified Self movement raised conditioning effects that neither placebo nor selection covers well. The bloggers at Slime Mold Time Mold pointed out that two of their three diet trials produced almost nothing, which is hard to square with the claim that anything works if you are ready. Gelman answered all of them and gave no ground on the main point. In a holiday open thread two years later, Chernavsky came back to say the Roberts posts had been unfair, and Gelman asked him to name one thing in them he thought was wrong.

In July 2017 Gelman posted that a bigshot psychologist, unhappy that his famous finding would not replicate, was scrambling furiously to preserve his theories. The psychologist was Fritz Strack (b. 1950), and Strack turned up in the comments to thank him for the promotion and to say he was quite happy. A graduate student in the same thread counted the evaluative words in the title, eight out of twenty-five, and asked Gelman to own that he had taken a shot. Gelman refused. He said he could not do this work if he were not free to say what he thought. The same refusal, on much heavier ground, is what Roberts’s friends met six years later.

There is a postscript Roberts did not live to see. In 2015 the CONSORT group published formal guidelines for N-of-1 trials. They treated it as a legitimate experimental design. But the legitimate version looked like what Gelman had been asking Roberts to do: repeated treatment periods, controls, randomized treatment order, allocation concealment and blinding where possible. Roberts was right that one person can be an experiment. Gelman was right that being your own subject does not repeal experimental design.

Now the argument.

The comfortable position on public criticism in science says that ridicule fails on its target and succeeds on the audience. Amy Cuddy did not concede; thousands of graduate students learned what a forking path was. The joke is a teaching instrument aimed past the defendant at everyone watching the trial. That position lets the critic keep his jokes and his conscience.

The Roberts case tests it. Nothing about this criticism was mocking. It came from a friend of twenty years who had taught a class with the man and eaten lunch with him for years. It was specific, technical, and correct. It ran from March 2005 to January 2010 and beyond. It appeared in a peer-reviewed magazine with Roberts given equal space and the last word. It came with concrete, cheap, actionable proposals: use a partner to assign the oil blind, run the rats, run twenty volunteers on the acne question, split the oil groups by timing. Gelman conceded points to Roberts throughout, and in December 2009, when Roberts said Gelman had described his climate views unfairly, Gelman agreed on the spot and revised.

John Braithwaite drew the standard distinction in Crime, Shame and Reintegration: shaming that stigmatizes the person against shaming that condemns the act while leaving a road back into good standing. Gelman’s criticism is as reintegrative as criticism gets. The act was named, the person was kept, the road back was drawn on the map with the cost of the trip itemized. If reintegrative criticism works anywhere, it should have worked here.

It failed. Roberts answered every objection, conceded the small ones, kept the practice, accelerated it, and finally died of the kind of disease his own measurements had reassured him he was avoiding.

Colin Wayne Leach and Atilla Cidam, in “When Is Shame Linked to Constructive Approach Orientation? A Meta-Analysis,” find that shame moves people toward repair when the damaged standing looks repairable, and toward withdrawal when it does not. Everything turns on what the criticized person believes is at stake.

Gelman was criticizing an experiment. He thought he was asking a colleague to blind one measurement, a fix costing a few weeks and one helper. Roberts heard something else. He had left mainstream academic psychology on purpose, after tenure, because the students cared about their lives and the publishable research did not. Self-experimentation was what he had instead of a career. Conceding that his balance results ran on expectation would not have cost him an experiment. It would have cost him the second half of his life, retroactively, and left him a man who had walked away from a respectable position to fool himself for twenty years in public.

Nothing about that is repairable. So the courtesy in Gelman’s criticism could not reach it, and neither could sarcasm, and neither could a better argument. The size of the concession decides the response. Cuddy had a book, a talk with tens of millions of views, and a public identity built on one finding. Wansink had a lab, a directorship, and a career. Roberts had his second act. In each case the correction on offer was small and what it implied was total.

What moved the Wansink case was an institution with the power to act, arriving after reproducible demonstrations of error had accumulated past the point a provost could ignore them. Roberts had retired from Berkeley, moved to Tsinghua, and answered to a message board. Once you strip out the the high-status employer, the journal, and the tenure committee, you can see in his case what criticism accomplishes when the person being corrected has everything riding on the answer.

Tsinghua’s faculty biography presented self-experimentation as one of his research areas and repeated the claim that butter and flaxseed oil improved brain function. Nobody at Tsinghua had an obvious reason, mechanism, or obligation to tell a psychology professor what he could eat for breakfast or what conclusions he could publish on his blog. The formal institution and the informal audience occupied different worlds. The audience rewarded the experiments. The institution supplied a title. Neither supplied a brake.

The audience half of the standard position gets darker. Hezhi Chen and colleagues find that people who watch a third party punish a transgressor revise their sense of what is normal and change their own behavior accordingly, which is the evidence for the claim that the joke teaches the gallery. But Xiaoyu Ge reports that taking part in online shaming lowers the participants’ own moral sensitivity and raises their willingness to join the next one. Applied to a blog with two hundred thousand comments, that says the gallery is being trained, and what it is trained to do is show up for the next defendant.

Gelman spends his working life asking what selects the evidence a person sees. Why this study and not that one. Who sent it. What made it visible. In February 2025 he pointed that question at his own archive and answered that he bore some share of responsibility for a stranger in Florida with cholesterol under his skin, because in 2005 he had made an obscure psychologist’s method famous. He is the reason the audience existed. He built the cheering section he later blamed for the death, and then he apologized for having built it, to a man he never met, about a diet he never recommended.

Almost nobody does this. The usual move after a promotion goes bad is silence, and the archive makes silence easy, since nobody is going to read your 2005 posts. Gelman went back and read them.

Roberts loved Brian Wansink’s (b. 1960) work. He praised the research design on his blog in 2006 and again in 2007, and in August 2019 Gelman reproduced that enthusiasm to show how completely the bottomless soup bowl had been believed before anyone looked. The man Gelman promoted vouched for the man Gelman helped bring down, and both of them fell for the same reason, which is that a friendly audience and a flexible measurement will find you whatever you are looking for.

And in December 2024, describing an athlete who experiments on himself with more care, Gelman called him a sane Seth Roberts. The friend has become a type, a shorthand, a character in the blog’s permanent cast. Every long-running blog does this to the people in it.

In March 2026 Gelman wrote that computer scientists now occupy the position economists held in 2000 and Freudians held in the 1950s, and that the trouble starts when the gurus and their hangers-on begin to believe their own hype. He had used that phrase before. He used it in 2023, about Seth Roberts, whose hype he supplied.

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What Andrew Gelman Doesn’t Write About

On April 7, 2016, Andrew Gelman declined two stories in one post and then named the problem this essay exists to address. A correspondent had sent him a McKinsey report on women in corporate America. He looked at it and decided to stay out of it. Another reader sent him a reported association between height and cancer, and he called it too difficult for him to understand and said he did not want to touch it. Then he closed by pointing out that his readers only see the studies he decided to write about.

Almost everything written about Gelman’s blog concerns his targets. The power pose, the ovulation studies, the himmicanes, Brian Wansink’s (b. 1960) bottomless soup bowl. He warns readers not to infer journal failure rates from his blog, since he sees bad papers because people send him bad papers. That warning is about the numerator. The denominator has never been examined, because the denominator sits in a private inbox.

But not all of it. Over twenty-two years Gelman has repeatedly narrated a decision not to write. He does it in passing, usually in one sentence inside a post about something else. Assembled, those sentences make a small archive of the road not taken: twenty-six decisions across twenty-two posts, from August 2009 through May 2026, each one a case where a piece of research reached him and he explained why he was letting it go.

Ten of the twenty-six come down to not having the energy. On the PACE trial and the chronic fatigue controversy, where he had contemplated a full investigation with interviews on all sides, he writes that he did not have the energy to do it. On an apparent plagiarism case in economics he says it was just not something he had the energy to look into. Same phrase, more or less, on police shootings, on a weather-as-instrument paper in economics, on the pertussis dispute, on a reader’s multilevel model, on a book he was sent in 2026. Four more are outside his expertise. Four more are subjects he had already covered enough.

Eighteen of twenty-six. Tired, unqualified, or bored with the topic.

Two cases touch social cost. In July 2016 he received a juicy item connected to a recurring blog subject and withheld it because people might take it as a personal attack. And the McKinsey case, where the obstacle was the position from which he would be criticizing. Two out of twenty-six, and zero disclosed cases in this archive of protecting an author he knows.

I expected the declines to cluster in medicine, on the theory that he stays inside social science because that is where he can evaluate a paper cheaply. Medicine is prominent in the declines, seven of the twenty-two decisions with an identifiable field. But medicine is prominent in his attacks too. He goes after oncology trials, screen time and hypertension, olfactory enrichment in older adults. So the field is not the variable.

What clusters in medicine is the explicit admission of not knowing enough. Three of the four outside-my-expertise refusals are medical: height and cancer, Matthew Walker on sleep, and a Nature paper on HIV viremia with twelve subjects where a correspondent had raised pseudoreplication and Gelman declined to evaluate any of it.

Compare those to the medical papers he does attack. The oncology post turns on treating a p of .053 as a failed trial and on a proportional-hazards assumption that makes no sense. He can see that from his chair. He does not need to know anything about the cancer. The pertussis case, by contrast, requires untangling cohort effects against a vaccine schedule, and that would make him a partial epidemiologist for a week.

He engages when the statistical defect can be seen without resolving the underlying science, and declines when the case would require him to enter another discipline. That is a rule about the reach of a statistician’s authority, and he applies it honestly. It also means that whole classes of bad research are invisible to this kind of criticism, not because they are defended but because their errors are not the kind a statistician can spot from outside.

Of the twenty-six declines, seven are economics, the largest single field. In the sixteen critical episodes drawn from the same pilot, economics appears zero times.

Fourteen of the twenty-six are cases where Gelman published the item and declined to judge it.

Per Pettersson-Lidbom sent him criticisms of three economics papers. Gelman posted them and said he did not have the energy to look into the cases. Alexey Guzey wrote a long attack on Matthew Walker’s Why We Sleep. Gelman passed it along and wrote that he would not try to judge Guzey’s claims, since he had not read the book and knew nothing about sleep research. A correspondent’s pseudoreplication argument against the HIV paper got the same treatment. So did the placebo effect material, the economics plagiarism correspondence, the police shooting analysis.

Eleven of the twenty-six are a post that never happened. Fourteen are a post that happened while the investigation somebody wanted did not.

Gelman isolated the behavior in 2013. Writing about post-publication peer review, he contrasted people who examine a paper with bloggers who merely publicize it and open the floor for discussion. He put himself in the latter category, describing a case where he lacked the energy to read a paper closely and later concluding that post-publication review can produce lots of people who simply post a paper without reading it and only the occasional critic who performs a detailed examination.

He does this more often than he writes the takedowns he is known for.

I am not sure what to make of it. A blog is a bulletin board as well as a courtroom. Somebody has to circulate criticism that nobody has the standing or the hours to adjudicate, and the alternative is that the criticism goes nowhere. Gelman is transparent about it every time, which is more than most aggregators manage. And in the Walker case the underlying critique was substantial and eventually got a wide hearing.

But the cost lands on the person named. The same distribution that makes a Gelman post consequential when he has done the work makes it consequential when he has not, and the reader’s memory does not reliably preserve the difference between a paper Gelman demolished and a paper he mentioned while saying he had not looked into it. Two years later both are things you read about on that blog.

Which brings the essay back to the archive nobody can see.

On November 20, 2016, Gelman posted a list of unfinished drafts and said the folder held 434 of them. He printed fifty-six titles, describing them as the most recent few, and annotated some. Ovulation and clothing, set aside because the topic had had enough posts. Steven Levitt (b. 1967) on golf, with the note that he had had enough of that guy. One draft he had actually published and then removed at a colleague’s request. One where he never finished writing the title.

I tried to trace what happened to those fifty-six. Two were published later. Three had already appeared or been withdrawn. Two he says he abandoned. The remaining forty-nine cannot be traced either way, because titles like “Scientific and scholarly disputes” and “Is it hype or is it real?” do not support a search.

The queue tells a related story. In August 2016 he cleared his inbox and announced his next 170 posts, filling the blog into the following January. In August 2026 he did it again, and the lag had reached a year, with posts scheduled into August 2027. A reader in 2026 encountering a Gelman verdict on a study is reading a decision he made in 2025, about a paper that reached him in 2024, filtered through whatever he had energy for on the afternoon it arrived.

Two caveats.

These twenty-six were found by searching for the phrases in which a man narrates a decision. They are therefore the declines he chose to describe, selected by the same process under examination. Every silence that stayed silent is still silent.

And energy is the cheapest reason a person can give. It costs nothing socially, it implies no judgment of the author, it is always true in some degree, and it is available whenever the real reason is one you would rather not write down. Ten of twenty-six say energy. What the public record can establish is that energy is what he says. Whether it is the cause or the covering is beyond anything a blog archive can settle.

What the file shows is a working academic with a full-time job, a family, and a software project, who receives more material than he can process, who says no most of the time, who says no mainly because he is tired or out of his depth or has already done that one, who forwards a great deal of criticism he has not verified, and who keeps a folder of several hundred things he meant to write and never did.

On December 31, 2024, somebody sent him a statistical critique. He read enough of it to conclude that the new argument contained both good points and errors. He had things he could have said. He worked out that laying the groundwork would take more scaffolding than the payoff justified, called it a cost-benefit calculation, and decided the best option was not to bother.

That post is the closest thing to a controlled observation anyone will get from outside his inbox: exposure, followed by non-selection, with the reason stated by the man who made the decision.

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Andrew Gelman: ‘Computer scientists today are like economists in the early 2000s and Freudian psychiatrists in the 1950s’

Gelman writes:

Back in the early part of this century, economists were riding high: they were the country’s all-purpose pundits, they had tons of influence but were lamenting that they didn’t have enough, and they were going on and on about how special they were, most amusingly in the self-contradictory argument that they were different because they “assume everyone is fundamentally alike; we believe circumstances, not culture, drive people’s decisions.” I’m still not sure what is the difference between “circumstance” and “culture” except that maybe talking about the former is associated with overconfidence.

Nowadays, though, economics is just one more social science. OK, I don’t want to overstate things. I assume they still get paid more than sociologists and political scientists, and, yeah, there’s a Council of Economic Advisers but no Council of Sociology Advisers. Still, I think that economics has lost some of its standing in the past twenty years, partly as a result of the crash of 2008 and its aftermath (political polarization, Brexit, etc.) and partly just the natural ebb and flow of influence, the inevitable cycle of hype and disappointment. Econ hero Steven Levitt was supplanted by data analyst Nate Silver (who identifies as a poker player, not an economist), and we’re not hearing from economists so much anymore, except to hear them fighting in vain against tariffs.

Gelman nails the pattern. Freudian psychiatry in the 1950s, neoclassical economics around 2000, and computer science now each supplied the era’s all-purpose pundit. Each sold the same self-image: cold rationality, willingness to say what others won’t.

He flags the disanalogy but does not develop it. Freud (1856-1939) and neoclassical economics offered theories of everything. Computer science built tools. That difference predicts a different ending. Psychoanalysis lost standing when its efficacy claims collapsed and drugs worked better. Economics lost standing as its tools and biases towards mathematical modeling that appeared objective failed to reflect reality, particularly in 2008. Computer science rests on products that keep working. The phone works. The search engine works. Whatever happens to the punditry, nobody stops using the products. The correction, when it comes, hits the guru layer.

Gelman does not ask what moves prestige between fields. He offers 2008 plus the natural ebb and flow of influence. Ebb and flow explains nothing. A better account: a discipline holds prestige when elites believe it holds the key to the era’s dominant anxiety, and loses it when a public event shows it doesn’t. Unhappiness and the mind for Freud. Prosperity and incentives for economics. Machines and intelligence now. On that account the fall comes from a visible failure at the promise.

Academic computer science and the tech industry have different standing. Star economists stayed at Chicago and Harvard. Star computer scientists leave for labs paying ten times the professor salary. The pundits are founders, investors, and a handful of lab heads. So the field sits at apex cultural prestige while its departments lose their best people to firms borrowing the name. Economics had no equivalent.

Gelman says all-encompassing theories can be fine because they supply a framework by which the social world can be studied rather than predictions. From a man who spends most days as a methods cop, that is a large door to leave open. He is generous to Freud and to neoclassical economics on a point where he would be merciless toward a psychology paper. Where does he draw the line?

Statistics watched its subject get renamed data science and machine learning and rehoused in better-funded departments. He has written for years about machine learning rediscovering old statistical results. Gelman comes from a field that lost the prestige contest to the field described.

Steven Levitt (b. 1967) was the theory man who made economics fun. Nate Silver (b. 1978) was the data man who didn’t need the theory.

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