Category: Academic Analysis

Source: The Conversation – USA – By Margaret Landis, Assistant Professor of Earth and Space Exploration, Arizona State University

Almost as tall as a football field, NASA’s Space Launch System rocket and capsule stack traveled slowly – just under 1 mile per hour – out to the Artemis II launchpad, its temporary home at the Kennedy Space Center in Florida, on Jan. 17, 2026. That slow crawl is in stark contrast to the peak velocity it will reach on launch day, over 22,000 miles per hour, when it will send a crew of four on a journey around the Moon.

While its first launch opportunity is on Feb. 8., a rocket launch is always at the mercy of a variety of factors outside of the launch team’s control – from the literal position of the planets down to flocks of birds or rogue boats near the launchpad. Artemis II may not be able to launch on Feb. 8, but it has backup launch windows available in March and April. In fact, Feb. 8 already represents a small schedule change from the initially estimated Feb. 6 launch opportunity opening.

Artemis II’s goal is to send people to pass by the Moon and be sure all engineering systems are tested in space before Artemis III, which will land astronauts near the lunar south pole.

If Artemis II is successful, it will be the first time any person has been back to the Moon since 1972, when Apollo 17 left to return to Earth. The Artemis II astronauts will fly by the far side of the Moon before returning home. While they won’t land on the surface, they will provide the first human eyes on the lunar far side since the 20th century.

To put this in perspective, no one under the age of about 54 has yet lived in a world where humans were that far away from Earth. The four astronauts will orbit the Moon on a 10-day voyage and return through a splashdown in the Pacific Ocean. As a planetary geologist, I’m excited for the prospect of people eventually returning to the Moon to do fieldwork on the first stepping stone away from Earth’s orbit.

Why won’t Artemis II land on the Moon?

If you wanted to summit Mount Everest, you would first test out your equipment and check to make sure everything works before heading up the mountain. A lunar landing is similar. Testing all the components of the launch system and crew vehicle is a critical part of returning people safely to the surface of the Moon and then flying them back to Earth.

And compared to the lunar surface, Everest is a tropical paradise.

NASA has accomplished lunar landings before, but the 54-year hiatus means that most of the engineers who worked on Apollo have retired. Only four of the 12 astronauts who have walked on the Moon are still alive.

Technology now is also vastly different. The Apollo lunar landing module’s computer only had about 4 kilobytes of RAM. A single typical iPhone photo is a few megabytes in size, over 1,000 times larger than the Apollo lunar landing module’s memory.

The two components of the Artemis II project are the rocket (the Space Launch System) and the crew capsule. Both have had a long road to the launchpad.

The Orion capsule was developed as part of the Constellation program, announced in 2005 and concluded in 2010. This program was a President George W. Bush-era attempt to move people beyond the space shuttle and International Space Station.

The Space Launch System started development in the early 2010s as a replacement vehicle for the Ares rocket, which was meant to be used with the Orion capsule in the Constellation program. The SLS rocket was used in 2022 for the Artemis I launch, which flew around the Moon without a crew. Boeing is the main contractor tasked with building the SLS, though over 1,000 separate vendors have been involved in the rocket’s fabrication.

The Apollo program, too, first sent a crewed capsule around the Moon without landing. Apollo 8, the first crewed spacecraft to leave Earth orbit, launched and returned home in December 1968. William Anders, one of the astronauts on board tasked with testing the components of the Apollo lunar spacecraft, captured the iconic “Earthrise” image during the mission.

“Earthrise” was the first time people were able to look back at the Earth as part of a spacefaring species. The Earthrise image has been reproduced in a variety of contexts, including on a U.S. postage stamp. It fundamentally reshaped how people thought of their environment. Earth is still far and beyond the most habitable location in the solar system for life as we know it.

Unique Artemis II science

The Artemis II astronauts will be the first to see the lunar far side since the final Apollo astronauts left over 50 years ago. From the window of the Orion capsule, the Moon will appear at its largest to be about the size of a beach ball held at arm’s length.

Over the past decades, scientists have used orbiting satellites to image much of the lunar surface. Much imaging of the lunar surface has been accomplished, especially at high spatial resolution, by the lunar reconnaissance orbiter camera, LROC.

LROC is made up of a few different cameras. The LROC’s wide angle and narrow angle cameras have both captured images of more than 90% of the lunar surface. The LROC Wide Angle Camera has a resolution on the lunar surface of about 100 meters per pixel – with each pixel in the image being about the length of an American football field.

The LROC narrow angle camera provides about 0.5 to 2 meters per pixel resolution. This means the average person would fit within about the length of one pixel from the narrow angle camera’s orbital images. It can clearly see large rocks and the Apollo lunar landing sites.

If the robotic LROC has covered most of the lunar surface, why should the human crew of Artemis II look at it, at lower resolution?

Most images from space are not what would be considered “true” color, as seen by the human eye. Just like how the photos you take of an aurora in the night sky with a cellphone camera appear more dramatic than with the naked eye, the image depends on the wavelengths the detection systems are sensitive to.

Human astronauts will see the lunar surface in different colors than LROC. And something that human astronauts have that an orbital camera system cannot have is geology training. The Artemis II astronauts will make observations of the lunar far side and almost instantly interpret and adjust their observations.

The proceeding mission, Artemis III, which will include astronauts landing on the lunar surface, is currently scheduled to launch by 2028.

What’s next for Artemis II

The Artemis II crew capsule and SLS rocket are now waiting on the launchpad. Before launch, NASA still needs to complete several final checks, including testing systems while the rocket is fueled. These systems include the emergency exit for the astronauts in case something goes wrong, as well as safely moving fuel, which is made of hydrazine – a molecule made up of nitrogen and hydrogen that is incredibly energy-dense.

Completing these checks follows the old aerospace adage of “test like you fly.” They will ensure that the Artemis II astronauts have everything working on the ground before departing for the Moon.

Margaret Landis receives research funding from NASA. She is affiliated with the Planetary Society as a member for over 20 years.

– ref. NASA’s Artemis II plans to send a crew around the Moon to test equipment and lay the groundwork for a future landing – https://theconversation.com/nasas-artemis-ii-plans-to-send-a-crew-around-the-moon-to-test-equipment-and-lay-the-groundwork-for-a-future-landing-273688

Source: The Conversation – USA – By Thomas Morgan, Associate Professor of Evolutionary Anthropology, Institute of Human Origins, Arizona State University

Born on the same day, Bill and Ben both grew up to have high status. But in every other way they were polar opposites.

As children, Bill was well-liked, with many friends, while Ben was a bully, picking on smaller kids. During adolescence, Bill earned a reputation for athleticism and intelligence. Ben, flanked by his henchmen, was seen as formidable and dangerous. In adulthood, Bill was admired for his decision-making and diplomacy, but Ben was feared for his aggression and intransigence.

People sought out Bill’s company and listened to his advice. Ben was avoided, but he got his way through force.

How did Ben get away with this? Well, there’s one more difference: Bill is a human, and Ben is a chimp.

This hypothetical story of Bill and Ben highlights a deep difference between human and animal social life. Many mammals exhibit dominance hierarchies; forms of inequality in which stronger individuals use strength, aggression and allies to get better access to food or mating opportunities.

Human societies are more peaceable but not necessarily more equal. We have hierarchies, too – leaders, captains and bosses. Does this mean we are no more than clothed apes, our domineering tendencies cloaked under superficial civility?

I’m an evolutionary anthropologist, part of a team of researchers who set out to come to grips with the evolutionary history of human social life and inequality.

Building on decades of discoveries, our work supports the idea that human societies are fundamentally different from those of other species. People can be coercive, but unlike other species, we also create hierarchies of prestige – voluntary arrangements that allocate labor and decision-making power according to expertise.

This tendency matters because it can inform how we, as a society, think about the kinds of social hierarchies that emerge in a workplace, on a sports team or across society more broadly. Prestige hierarchies can be steep, with clear differences between high and low status. But when they work well, they can form part of a healthy group life from which everyone benefits.

Equal by nature?

Primate-style dominance hierarchies, along with the aggressive displays and fights that build them, are so alien to most humans that some researchers have concluded our species simply doesn’t “do” hierarchy. Add to this the limited archaeological evidence for wealth differences prior to farming, and a picture emerges of humans as a peaceful and egalitarian species, at least until agriculture upended things 12,000 years ago.

But new evidence tells a more interesting story. Even the most egalitarian groups, such as the Ju/‘hoansi and Hadza in Africa or Tsimané in South America, still show subtle inequalities in status, influence and power. And these differences matter: High-ranking men get their pick of partners, sometimes multiple partners, and go on to have more children. Archaeologists have also uncovered sites that display wealth differences even without agriculture.

So, are we more like other species than we might care to imagine, or is there still something different about human societies?

Dominance and prestige

One oddity is in how human hierarchies form. In other animals, fighting translates physical strength into dominance. In humans, however, people often happily defer to leaders, even seeking them out. This deference creates hierarchies of prestige, not dominance.

Why do people do this? One current hypothesis is that we, uniquely, live in a world that relies on complex technologies, teaching and cooperation. In this world, expertise matters. Some people know how to build a kayak; others don’t. Some people can organize a team to build a house; others need someone else to organize them. Some people are great hunters; others couldn’t catch a cold.

In a world like this, everyone keeps an eye out for who has the skills and knowledge they need. Adept individuals can translate their ability into power and status. But, crucially, this status benefits everyone, not just the person on top.

That’s the theory, but where’s the evidence?

There are plenty of anthropological accounts of skillful people earning social status and bullies being quickly cut down. Lab studies have also found that people do keep an eye on how well others are doing, what they’re good at, and even whom others are paying attention to, and they use this to guide their own information-seeking.

What my colleagues and I wanted to do was investigate how these everyday decisions might lead to larger-scale hierarchies of status and influence.

From theory to practice

In a perfect world, we’d monitor whole societies for decades, mapping individual decisions to social consequences. In reality, this kind of study is impossible, so my team turned to a classic tool in evolutionary research: computer models. In place of real-world populations, we can build digital ones and watch their history play out in milliseconds instead of years.

In these simulated worlds, virtual people copied each other, watched whom others were learning from and accrued prestige. The setup was simple, but a clear pattern emerged: The stronger the tendency to seek out prestigious people, the steeper social influence hierarchies became.

Below a threshold, societies stayed mostly egalitarian; above it, they were led by a powerful few. In other words, “prestige psychology” – the mental machinery that guides whom people learn from – creates a societal tipping point.

The next step was to bring real humans into the lab and measure their tendency to follow prestigious leaders. This can tell us whether we, as a species, fall above or below the tipping point – that is, whether our psychology favors egalitarian or hierarchical groups.

To do this, my colleagues and I put participants into small groups and gave them problems to solve. We recorded whom participants listened to, and let them know whom their group mates were learning from, and we used this information to find the value of the human “hierarchy-forming” tendency. It was high – well above the tipping point for hierarchies to emerge, and our experimental groups ended up with clear leaders.

One doubt lingered: Our volunteers were from the modern United States. Can they really tell us about the whole human species?

Rather than repeat the study across dozens of cultures, we returned to modeling. This time, we let prestige psychology evolve. Each simulated person had their own tendency for how much they deferred to prestige. It guided their actions, affected their fitness and was passed on to their children with minor mutations.

Over thousands of generations, natural selection identified the most successful psychology: a sensitivity to prestige nearly identical to that we measured in real humans – and strong enough to produce the same sharp hierarchies.

Inequality for everyone?

In other primates, being at the bottom of the social ladder can be brutal, with routine harassment and bullying by group mates. Thankfully, human prestige hierarchies look nothing like this. Even without any coercion, people often choose to follow skilled or respected individuals because good leadership makes life easier for everyone. Natural selection, it seems, has favored the psychology that makes this possible.

Of course, reality is messier than any model or lab experiment. Our simulations and experiment didn’t allow for coercion or bullying, and so they give an optimistic view of how human societies might work – not how they do.

In the real world, leaders can selfishly abuse their authority or simply fail to deliver collective benefits. Even in our experiment, some groups rallied around below-average teammates, the snowballing tendency of prestige swamping signs of their poor ability. Leaders should always be held to account for the outcomes of their choices, and an evolutionary basis to prestige does not justify the oppression of the powerless by the powerful.

So hierarchies remain a double-edged sword. Human societies are unique in the benefits that hierarchies can bring to followers, but the old forces of dominance and exploitation have not disappeared. Still, the fact that natural selection favored a psychology that drives voluntary deference and powerful leaders suggests that, most of the time, prestige hierarchies are worth the risks. When they work well, we all reap the rewards.

Thomas Morgan has received research funding from DARPA, the NSF and the Templeton World Charity Foundation.

– ref. A human tendency to value expertise, not just sheer power, explains how some social hierarchies form – https://theconversation.com/a-human-tendency-to-value-expertise-not-just-sheer-power-explains-how-some-social-hierarchies-form-271711

Source: The Conversation – USA – By Christopher M. Filley, Professor Emeritus of Neurology, University of Colorado Anschutz Medical Campus

On Oct. 25, 2023, a 40-year old man named Robert Card opened fire with a semi-automatic rifle at a bowling alley and nearby bar in Lewiston, Maine, killing 18 people and wounding 13 others. Card was found dead by suicide two days later. His autopsy revealed extensive damage to the white matter of his brain thought to be related to a traumatic brain injury, which some neurologists proposed may have played a role in his murderous actions.

Neurological evidence such as magnetic resonance imaging, or MRI, is widely used in court to show whether and to what extent brain damage induced a person to commit a violent act. That type of evidence was introduced in 12% of all murder trials and 25% of death penalty trials between 2014 and 2024. But it’s often unclear how such evidence should be interpreted because there’s no agreement on what specific brain injuries could trigger behavioral shifts that might make someone more likely to commit crimes.

We are two behavioral neurologists and a philosopher of neuroscience who have been collaborating over the past six years to investigate whether damage to specific regions of the brain might be somehow contributing to people’s decision to commit seemingly random acts of violence – as Card did.

With new technologies that go beyond simply visualizing the brain to analyze how different brain regions are connected, neuroscientists can now examine specific brain regions involved in decision-making and how brain damage may predispose a person to criminal conduct. This work may in turn shed light on how exactly the brain plays a role in people’s capacity to make moral choices.

Linking brain and behavior

The observation that brain damage can cause changes to behavior stretches back hundreds of years. In the 1860s, the French physician Paul Broca was one of the first in the history of modern neurology to link a mental capacity to a specific brain region. Examining the autopsied brain of a man who had lost the ability to speak after a stroke, Broca found damage to an area roughly beneath the left temple.

Broca could study his patients’ brains only at autopsy. So he concluded that damage to this single area caused the patient’s speech loss – and therefore that this area governs people’s ability to produce speech. The idea that cognitive functions were localized to specific brain areas persisted for well over a century, but researchers today know the picture is more complicated.

As brain imaging tools such as MRI have improved since the early 2000s it’s become increasingly possible to safely visualize people’s brains in stunning detail while they are alive. Meanwhile, other techniques for mapping connections between brain regions have helped reveal coordinated patterns of activity across a network of brain areas related to certain mental tasks.

With these tools, investigators can detect areas that have been damaged by brain disorders, such as strokes, and test whether that damage can be linked to specific changes in behavior. Then they can explore how that brain region interacts with others in the same network to get a more nuanced view of how the brain regulates those behaviors.

This approach can be applied to any behavior, including crime and immorality.

White matter and criminality

Complex human behaviors emerge from interacting networks that are made up of two types of brain tissue: gray matter and white matter.Gray matter consists of regions of nerve cell bodies and branching nerve fibers called dendrites, as well as points of connection between nerve cells. It’s in these areas that the brain’s heavy computational work is done. White matter, so named because of a pale, fatty substance called myelin that wraps the bundles of nerves, carries information between gray matter areas like highways in the brain.

Brain imaging studies of criminality going back to 2009 have suggested that damage to a swath of white matter called the right uncinate fasciculus is somehow involved when people commit violent acts. This tract connects the right amygdala, an almond-shaped structure deep in the brain involved in emotional processing, with the right orbitofrontal cortex, a region in the front of the brain involved in complex decision-making. However, it wasn’t clear from these studies whether damage to this tract caused people to commit crimes or was just a coincidence.

In a 2025 study, we analyzed 17 cases from the medical literature in which people with no criminal history committed crimes such as murder, assault and rape after experiencing brain damage from a stroke, tumor or traumatic brain injury. We first mapped the location of damage in their brains using an atlas of brain circuitry derived from people whose brains were uninjured. Then we compared imaging of the damage with brain imaging from more than 700 people who had not committed crimes but who had a brain injury causing a different symptom, such as memory loss or depression.

In the people who committed crimes, we found the brain region that popped up the most often was the right uncinate fasciculus. Our study aligns with past research in linking criminal behavior to this brain area, but the way we conducted it makes our findings more definitive: These people committed their crimes only after they sustained their brain injuries, which suggests that damage to the right uncinate fasciculus played a role in triggering their criminal behavior.

These findings have an intriguing connection to research on morality. Other studies have found a link between strokes that damaged the right uncinate fasciculus with loss of empathy, suggesting this tract somehow regulates emotions that affect moral conduct. Meanwhile, other work has shown that people with psychopathy, which often aligns with immoral behavior, have abnormalities in their amygdala and the orbitofrontal cortex regions that are directly connected by the uncinate fasciculus.

Neuroscientists are now testing whether the right uncinate fasciculus may be synthesizing information within a network of brain regions dedicated to moral values.

Making sense of it all

As intriguing as these findings are, it is important to note that many people with damage to their right uncinate fasciculus do not commit violent crimes. Similarly, most people who commit crimes do not have damage to this tract. This means that even if damage to this area can contribute to criminality, it’s only one of many possible factors underlying it.

Still, knowing that neurological damage to a specific brain structure can increase a person’s risk of committing a violent crime can be helpful in various contexts. For example, it can help the legal system assess neurological evidence when judging criminal responsibility. Similarly, doctors may be able to use this knowledge to develop specific interventions for people with brain disorders or injuries.

More broadly, understanding the neurological roots of morality and moral decision-making provides a bridge between science and society, revealing constraints that define how and why people make choices.

Isaiah Kletenik receives funding from the NIH.

Nothing to disclose.

Christopher M. Filley does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Certain brain injuries may be linked to violent crime – identifying them could help reveal how people make moral choices – https://theconversation.com/certain-brain-injuries-may-be-linked-to-violent-crime-identifying-them-could-help-reveal-how-people-make-moral-choices-262034

Source: The Conversation – USA – By Anne Schmitz, Associate Professor of Engineering, University of Wisconsin-Stout

If you break open a chicken bone, you won’t find a solid mass of white material inside. Instead, you will see a complex, spongelike network of tiny struts and pillars, and a lot of empty space.

It looks fragile, yet that internal structure allows a bird’s wing to withstand high winds while remaining light enough for flight. Nature rarely builds with solid blocks. Instead, it builds with clever, porous patterns to maximize strength while minimizing weight.

Human engineers have always envied this efficiency. You can see it in the hexagonal perfection of a honeycomb, which uses the least amount of wax to store the most honey, and in the internal spiraling architecture of seashells that resist crushing pressures.

For centuries, however, manufacturing limitations meant engineers couldn’t easily copy these natural designs. Traditional manufacturing has usually been subtractive, meaning it starts with a heavy block of metal that is carved down, or formative, which entails pouring liquid plastic into a mold. Neither method can easily create complex, spongelike interiors hidden inside a solid shell.

If engineers wanted to make a part stronger, they generally had to make it thicker and heavier. This approach is often inefficient, wastes material and results in heavier products that require more energy to transport.

I am a mechanical engineer and associate professor at the University of Wisconsin-Stout, where I research the intersection of advanced manufacturing and biology. For several years, my work has focused on using additive manufacturing to create materials that, like a bird’s wing, are both incredibly light and capable of handling intense physical stress. While these “holey” designs have existed in nature for millions of years, it is only recently that 3D printing has made it possible for us to replicate them in the lab.

The invisible architecture

That paradigm changed with the maturation of additive manufacturing, commonly known as 3D printing, when it evolved from a niche prototyping tool into a robust industrial force. While the technology was first patented in the 1980s, it truly took off over the past decade as it became capable of producing end-use parts for high-stakes industries like aerospace and health care.

Instead of cutting away material, printers build objects layer by layer, depositing plastic or metal powder only exactly where it’s needed based on a digital file. This technology unlocked a new frontier in materials science focused on mesostructures.

A mesostructure represents the in-between scale. It is not the microscopic atomic makeup of the material, nor is it the macroscopic overall shape of the object, like a whole shoe. It is the internal architecture, including the engineered pattern of air and material hidden inside.

It’s the difference between a solid brick and the intricate iron latticework of the Eiffel Tower. Both are strong, but one uses vastly less material to achieve that strength because of how the empty space is arranged.

From the lab to your closet

While the concept of using additive manufacturing to create parts that take advantage of mesostructures started in research labs around the year 2000, consumers are now seeing these bio-inspired designs in everyday products.

The footwear industry is a prime example. If you look closely at the soles of certain high-end running shoes, you won’t see a solid block of foam. Instead, you will see a complex, weblike lattice structure that looks suspiciously like the inside of a bird bone. This printed design mimics the springiness and weight distribution found in natural porous structures, offering tuned performance that solid foam cannot match.

Engineers use the same principle to improve safety gear. Modern bike helmets and football helmet liners are beginning to replace traditional foam padding with 3D-printed lattices. These tiny, repeating jungle gym structures are designed to crumple and rebound to absorb the energy more efficiently than solid materials, much like how the porous bone inside your own skull protects your brain.

Testing the limits

In my research, I look for the rules nature uses to build strong objects.

For example, seashells are tough because they are built like a brick wall, with hard mineral blocks held together by a thin layer of stretchy glue. This pattern allows the hard bricks to slide past each other instead of snapping when put under pressure. The shell absorbs energy and stops cracks from spreading, which makes the final structure much tougher than a solid piece of the same material.

I use advanced computer models to crush thousands of virtual designs to see exactly when and how they fail. I have even used neural networks, a type of artificial intelligence, to find the best patterns for absorbing energy.

My studies have shown that a wavy design can be very effective, especially when we fine-tune the thickness of the lines and the number of turns in the pattern. By finding these perfect combinations, we can design products that fail gradually and safely – much like the crumple zone on the front of a car.

By understanding the mechanics of these structures, engineers can tailor them for specific jobs, making one area of a product stiff and another area flexible within a single continuous printed part.

The sustainable future

Beyond performance, mimicking nature’s less-is-more approach is a significant win for sustainability. By “printing air” into the internal structure of a product, manufacturers can use significantly less raw material while maintaining the necessary strength.

As industrial 3D printing becomes faster and cheaper, manufacturing will move further away from the solid-block era and closer to the elegant efficiency of the biological world. Nature has spent millions of years perfecting these blueprints through evolution – and engineers are finally learning how to read them.

Anne Schmitz does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Building with air – how nature’s hole-filled blueprints shape manufacturing – https://theconversation.com/building-with-air-how-natures-hole-filled-blueprints-shape-manufacturing-270640

Source: The Conversation – USA – By Nicholas Jacobs, Goldfarb Family Distinguished Chair in American Government, Colby College; Institute for Humane Studies

An unusually large majority of Americans agree that the recent scenes of Immigration and Customs Enforcement operations in Minneapolis are disturbing.

Federal immigration agents have deployed with weapons and tactics more commonly associated with military operations than with civilian law enforcement. The federal government has sidelined state and local officials, and it has cut them out of investigations into whether state and local law has been violated.

It’s understandable to look at what’s happening and reach a familiar conclusion: This looks like a slide into authoritarianism.

There is no question that the threat of democratic backsliding is real. President Donald Trump has long treated federal authority not as a shared constitutional set of rules and obligations but as a personal instrument of control.

In my research on the presidency and state power, including my latest book with Sidney Milkis, “Subverting the Republic,” I have argued that the Trump administration has systematically weakened the norms and practices that once constrained executive power – often by turning federalism itself into a weapon of national administrative power.

But there is another possibility worth taking seriously, one that cuts against Americans’ instincts at moments like this. What if what America is seeing is not institutional collapse but institutional friction: the system doing what it was designed to do, even if it looks ugly when it does it?

For many Americans, federalism is little more than a civics term – something about states’ rights or decentralization.

In practice, however, federalism functions less as a clean division of authority and more as a system for managing conflict among multiple governments with overlapping jurisdiction. Federalism does not block national authority. It ensures that national decisions are subject to challenge, delay and revision by other levels of government.

Dividing up authority

At its core, federalism works through a small number of institutional mechanics – concrete ways of keeping authority divided, exposed and contestable. Minneapolis shows each of them in action.

First, there’s what’s called “jurisdictional overlap.”

State, local and federal authorities all claim the right to govern the same people and places. In Minneapolis, that overlap is unavoidable: Federal immigration agents, state law enforcement, city officials and county prosecutors all assert authority over the same streets, residents and incidents. And they disagree sharply about how that authority should be exercised.

Second, there’s institutional rivalry.

Because authority is divided, no single level of government can fully monopolize legitimacy. And that creates tension. That rivalry is visible in the refusal of state and local officials across the country to simply defer to federal enforcement.

Instead, governors, mayors and attorneys general have turned to courts, demanded access to evidence and challenged efforts to exclude them from investigations. That’s evident in Minneapolis and also in states that have witnessed the administration’s deployment of National Guard troops against the will of their Democratic governors.

It’s easy to imagine a world where state and local prosecutors would not have to jump through so many procedural hoops to get access to evidence for the death of citizens within their jurisdiction. But consider the alternative.

If state and local officials were barred without consent from seeking evidence – the absence of federalism – or if local institutions had no standing to contest how national power is exercised there, federal authority would operate not just forcefully but without meaningful political constraint.

Third, confrontation is local and place-specific.

Federalism pushes conflict into the open. Power struggles become visible, noisy and politically costly. What is easy to miss is why this matters.

Federalism was necessary at the time of the Constitution’s creation because Americans did not share a single political identity. They could not decide whether they were members of one big community or many small communities.

In maintaining their state governments and creating a new federal government, they chose to be both at the same time. And although American politics nationalized to a remarkable degree over the 20th century, federal authority is still exercised in concrete places. Federal authority still must contend with communities that have civic identities and whose moral expectations may differ sharply from those assumed by national actors.

In Minneapolis it has collided with a political community that does not experience federal immigration enforcement as ordinary law enforcement.

The chaos of federalism

Federalism is not designed to keep things calm. It is designed to keep power unsettled – so that authority cannot move smoothly, silently or all at once.

By dividing responsibility and encouraging overlap, federalism ensures that power has to push, explain and defend itself at every step.

“A little chaos,” the scholar Daniel Elazar has said, “is a good thing!”

As chaos goes, though, federalism is more often credited for Trump’s ascent. He won the presidency through the Electoral College – a federalist institution that allocates power by state rather than by national popular vote, rewarding geographically concentrated support even without a national majority.

Partisan redistricting, which takes place in the states, further amplifies that advantage by insulating Republicans in Congress from electoral backlash. And decentralized election administration – in which local officials control voter registration, ballot access and certification – can produce vulnerabilities that Trump has exploited in contesting state certification processes and pressuring local election officials after close losses.

Forceful but accountable

It’s helpful to also understand how Minneapolis is different from the most well-known instances of aggressive federal power imposed on unwilling states: the civil rights era.

Then, too, national authority was asserted forcefully. Federal marshals escorted the Black student James Meredith into the University of Mississippi in 1962 over the objections of state officials and local crowds. In Little Rock in 1957, President Dwight D. Eisenhower federalized the Arkansas National Guard and sent in U.S. Army troops after Gov. Orval Faubus attempted to block the racial integration of Central High School.

Violence accompanied these interventions. Riots broke out in Oxford, Mississippi. Protesters and bystanders were killed in clashes with police and federal authorities in Birmingham and Selma, Alabama.

What mattered during the civil rights era was not widespread agreement at the outset – nationwide resistance to integration was fierce and sustained. Rather, it was the way federal authority was exercised through existing constitutional channels.

Presidents acted through courts, statutes and recognizable chains of command. State resistance triggered formal responses. Federal power was forceful, but it remained legible, bounded and institutionally accountable.

Those interventions eventually gained public acceptance. But in that process, federalism was tarnished by its association with Southern racism and recast as an obstacle to progress rather than the institutional framework through which progress was contested and enforced.

After the civil rights era, many Americans came to assume that national power would normally be aligned with progressive moral aims – and that when it was, federalism was a problem to be overcome.

Minneapolis exposes the fragility of that assumption. Federalism does not distinguish between good and bad causes. It does not certify power because history is “on the right side.” It simply keeps power contestable.

When national authority is exercised without broad moral agreement, federalism does not stop it. It only prevents it from settling quietly.

Why talk about federalism now, at a time of widespread public indignation?

Because in the long arc of federalism’s development, it has routinely proven to be the last point in our constitutional system where power runs into opposition. And when authority no longer encounters rival institutions and politically independent officials, authoritarianism stops being an abstraction.

Nicholas Jacobs does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Federal power meets local resistance in Minneapolis – a case study in how federalism staves off authoritarianism – https://theconversation.com/federal-power-meets-local-resistance-in-minneapolis-a-case-study-in-how-federalism-staves-off-authoritarianism-274685