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The Palantir Manifesto ControversyJust weeks after publishing a manifesto on X that implied some cultures are inferior to others, described by one UK MP as the "ramblings of a supervillain," the US spy tech company Palantir faces growing calls for a ban in Australia. The company, which has significant government contracts in Australia, now claims it is "just a software company" amid mounting public and political backlash.Cultural Statements Spark Global ConcernEarlier this month, Palantir published a manifesto on X, arguing the benefits of American power and stating: "Some cultures have produced vital advances; others remain dysfunctional and regressive." This public pronouncement, combined with concern over Palantir's software being used by ICE immigration enforcement in the United States and the Israeli military, has led to calls in Australia and the UK for governments to cease using Palantir in their operations.Financial Footprint in Australian GovernmentState and federal contracts with Palantir in Australia have reached nearly $80m, with federal investment in the company reportedly more than $160m. Federal agencies including the financial intelligence agency Austrac and the defense department have spent an estimated $60m in contracts with Palantir. Australia's sovereign wealth fund, the Future Fund, holds $100m worth of shares in the company. In Victoria, the prison system has spent nearly $20m on Palantir contracts since 2012, with a current contract valued at $9m and not due to expire until 2028.Government Response and Company DefenseAustralian Greens senator David Shoebridge has called for a "blanket ban on all new contracts with Palantir, pending a comprehensive public audit of their existing Government agreements." In response, a Palantir spokesperson emphasized that the company is "proud its software supports the Australian defense force and other government agencies" and claimed, "We don't collect or monetize data – we simply provide the tools to help customers organize and understand their own information."Regulatory Scrutiny and Future ImplicationsPalantir has identified Australia as a lucrative market for its surveillance software, achieving "protected level" in the Australian Signals Directorate's information security program. However, questions remain about compliance with the Commonwealth supplier code of conduct, which requires suppliers to avoid bringing the federal government into disrepute. With the recent termination of its lobbying relationship with Cmax Advisory and growing public concern, Palantir's future in Australia's government sector faces significant uncertainty as political pressure mounts for greater transparency and accountability.

Lead: A High‑Profile Breach Sparks Global ConcernA gunman armed with a shotgun, handgun and knives rushed a Secret Service checkpoint at the Washington Hilton during the White House Correspondents’ Association dinner, injuring an officer while failing to hit the target. The attempt on Donald Trump has ignited fears about the safety of the upcoming 2026 FIFA World Cup, which the United States will co‑host with Canada and Mexico.Shooting at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner Triggers Security AlarmThe suspect managed to penetrate one of the most secure venues in the world, highlighting a glaring lapse in protective protocols. While the attacker was neutralised, the incident underscores the challenges faced by the US Secret Service in defending high‑profile figures and large public events alike.Numbers Behind the Threat: Fan Influx and Violence Statistics78 of 104 World Cup fixtures will be played in the United States.Projected 5‑10 million international fans expected to travel to the U.S. for the tournament.In 2026, the U.S. has recorded 126 mass‑shooting incidents, resulting in over 3,100 deaths and 5,300 injuries (Gun Violence Archive).More than 120 civil‑rights groups, including the ACLU and Amnesty International, have issued a travel advisory for World Cup visitors.Implications for World Cup Security and Fan ExperienceFans on social media question whether the nation can guarantee safety when even the president is vulnerable. Security analyst Massimiliano Montanari argues the incident will not alter the overall security posture, citing the Secret Service’s “highest level of attention.” However, the presence of ICE agents on the ground and the broader debate over U.S. gun laws add layers of uncertainty for international visitors.Critics warn that the combination of a high‑profile shooting and aggressive immigration enforcement could deter fans or lead to heightened tensions at venues.What the Next Weeks May Hold for 2026 World Cup PreparationsOrganizers are likely to intensify coordination with federal agencies, increase visible security deployments at stadiums and fan zones, and possibly revise entry protocols for spectators. While FIFA has not commented, the pressure on U.S. authorities to demonstrate a “secure, welcoming” environment will grow as the tournament approaches.

The Erasure of a Scholar's LegacyWhen Donald Trump returned to office in January last year, one of his first acts was to sign an executive order intended to cut federal funding for any school teaching what the administration defined as "critical race theory." A raft of other orders mandated the termination of DEI (diversity, equity and inclusion) personnel, offices and training across the federal government. Federal agencies began flagging hundreds of words to avoid or eliminate, including "intersectional" and "intersectionality." All of which has amounted to 40 years of Kimberlé Crenshaw's work being literally and deliberately erased.The Architect of IntersectionalityFor decades, the 66-year-old legal scholar has been naming things that powerful people would prefer remain unnamed. In 1989, she coined the term intersectionality to describe the way race and gender overlap to shape lived experience, often in ways the law fails to recognize. Around the same time, she was one of a group of African American scholars who created the framework that came to be known as "critical race theory," which sought to examine how racism is embedded in legal systems rather than simply enacted through individual prejudice. Now, Crenshaw's ideas are being contested like never before.The Political Weaponization of Academic Concepts"Unfortunately, I did see this coming," she tells me over a video call from the California offices of the African American Policy Forum, the thinktank she co-founded. We are calling to discuss Crenshaw's new memoir, Backtalker, but the conversation soon shifts. "The fact that they are targeting this … it is because they understand the power of these ideas, the power of this history." Behind her, posters reading "History repeats when we forget" and "The freedom to learn is the freedom to live" hang alongside shelves of critical race theory texts and Black history books the likes of which have, in some states, become politically radioactive.The Cultural War Over "Woke" IdeologyWhat makes the intensity of this backlash striking is how recently Crenshaw's work entered mainstream public consciousness. Until a few years ago, ideas such as intersectionality and critical race theory remained largely within the domain of legal scholarship, academic debate and activist vernacular. It wasn't until 2020, when a loose coalition of conservative activists, media figures and politicians began elevating them as political flashpoints, that they were thrust into the centre of the culture wars. In the ensuing five years, this snowballed into all-out war against "woke," with critical race theory as its ultimate bogeyman. It became a byword for liberal overreach, a catch-all for everything that was wrong with the US in the eyes of the conservative right.The Fascist Narrative and American Democracy"Trump jumped on a bandwagon started by a few rightwing propagandists, claiming that intersectionality and critical race theory were anti-white, anti-male and anti-American," she says. "Fox News amplified this, and within weeks, these ideas were mentioned more than they had been in the previous four decades."Crenshaw, true to form, is not shy about naming what she considers to be the problem. "One of the keys of fascism is control of the nation's narrative," she says. "That, alongside creating a group of people that are legitimate targets of exclusion – an us and them – allows for the autocrat to be seen as the embodiment of the essential nation. And in the United States, we come prefabricated for that dimension of fascism to set into our politics."Why is it that so many white Americans are willing to continue to vote for a president that is demolishing democracy, so long as he's willing to affirm them effectively as true Americans?" she continues. "Because of the idea that those over there are different from us. They don't really belong. That is the way fascism works."From Childhood Inequality to Intellectual FrameworkIt is clearly in Crenshaw's DNA to confront injustice, as is evidenced in Backtalker, which chronicles her journey from witnessing inequality as a child to challenging entrenched power structures in law, academia and politics. "Being a backtalker is like being lactose intolerant," she writes. "There is BS that I cannot digest. To accept anything close to second-class status as the price of belonging sickens me."Born in Ohio in 1959, on the verge of the civil rights movement, Crenshaw grew up at a time of expanding yet restricted possibilities. She watched that tension unfolding in real time, in the speeches of Malcolm X and Martin Luther King Jr on television, and in discussions around the kitchen table, where her parents, dedicated anti-racist activists, treated politics as a daily practice. "As a Black child, I had early inklings that differences would matter in my life, even if I couldn't name them," she says.The Making of an Intersectional ConsciousnessOne such inkling came when her family moved to the predominantly white suburb of Canton, Ohio. "When we arrived, there were children playing everywhere," she remembers. "I was excited." But almost overnight, the children vanished. Neighbours treated the new family as intruders and shouted slurs when they walked by; an estate agent knocked on their door urging a quick sale.Perhaps the most formative incident came when she was five years old, and was the only girl in her all-white class who was not given the opportunity to play the princess, Thorn Rosa, in a school performance. "Thorn Rosa marks the stirring of my nascent awareness that my colour and my girlness were linked," she writes."You push that doubt down until something happens that forces it open," she tells me. "You realize that how others see you will shape your experiences. And that realization is traumatic."The Trauma of Loss and the Birth of ActivismWhat mattered, she says, was that those moments were not dismissed. "I credit my parents for taking them seriously," she says. "They refused to minimize what I experienced, even as a young child. That affirmation was freeing, it told me my feelings were grounded in reality and gave me permission to understand them."It was tragedy that would, in many ways, become the making of the young Crenshaw. She was eight years old when Martin Luther King Jr was assassinated in 1968 – a before-and-after moment in her life. The following day, young Black activists in Canton directed schoolchildren to the local church for a hastily organized memorial service. Crowded into pews, everyone was silent when the activists asked if anyone had anything to say about Dr. King. No one moved. It was Crenshaw who broke the silence, exhorting the crowd not to let his death be the end of the freedom struggle. "We pick up where he left off," she recalls saying. "We continue to walk in his footsteps. They can't kill his dream for us – not if we won't let them."Further devastation followed. A year later, her father, an apparently healthy 34-year-old, died suddenly, leaving the family reeling. Not long after, her older brother Mantel was shot and killed while at university. The circumstances were never fully explained, and justice never came. She writes of that period with unflinching candor: "Happiness was dead." These losses left an indelible mark, sharpening her awareness of the unevenness of justice in a world already structured by racial and social inequities.The Complexity of Solidarity and the Limits of "We"Crenshaw arrived at Cornell University in 1978, to a campus shaped by the afterlives of civil rights struggle and Black student organizing. It was there that she entered into a relationship with a fellow student that became physically abusive. In one incident, he beat her and tried to throw her from the window of her 10th-floor dorm room."We were eye-to-eye when he threw the first punch," she writes in Backtalker. "Pressed out of denial, I woke to the fact that he was going to beat the daylights out of me."What followed unsettled her understanding of community more profoundly than the violence itself. Rather than rallying around her, many of her peers – fellow Black students and friends – closed ranks around him. To involve authorities, they told her, would be to expose a Black man to a system already predisposed against him. The implication was that her suffering as a woman should be subordinated to a broader racial solidarity."The way that sexual violence against Black women has long been justified – framing us as unlikely ever to say no to any sexual encounter – you can know this historically, but then when you experience it interpersonally, you have to grapple with the fact that more people in your own community will come to the defense of your abuser than you," she says. "It really presses the question of 'what is solidarity supposed to look like?' she continues. "What does it mean to defend the 'we', when that 'we' often excludes me?"The Birth of Intersectionality in Legal TheoryCrenshaw returns to that question – of the instability of "we"– again and again. From arriving at Harvard Law School and being called the N-word on her first day, to being directed to enter the university's exclusive Fly Club through the back door because she was a woman – the Black male friends she was with, rather than challenge the slight, urged her not to make a scene. What she would later call "asymmetrical solidarities" revealed themselves in practice: loyalty expected but not returned. "I cannot bring myself to ride or die for a politics that won't ride or die for me," she writes of the incident.In legal terms, the problem came into focus when Crenshaw came across a 1976 case in which an African American woman was denied the ability to bring a discrimination claim against her employer on the grounds that the law could recognize race or gender, but not both at once. Her experience – specifically of being discriminated against as a Black woman – fell through the cracks and the case was thrown out of court. In 1989, Crenshaw identified this form of compound discrimination and gave it a name: intersectionality. Around the same time, she was part of a group of scholars developing what would become critical race theory, a broader attempt to understand how racism is a structural part of the legal system.The Promise and Limits of Political RepresentationIt is a lesson that would resurface, years later, in a very different arena. When Barack Obama was elected president in 2008, the language of "we" returned with renewed force – this time, as a promise. For many, Obama's election felt like a rupture with the past. But for Crenshaw, it quickly raised a familiar question."I didn't think it would happen in my lifetime," she says, of that initial hope after Obama's victory. "It felt like a miracle. My mother and I celebrated together on the phone – I was dancing on a table at Stanford and she was doing the same in her retirement facility. For her especially, it was a dream come true."But symbolism, Crenshaw suggests, has limits, particularly when it is used as a substitute for structural change. She found his reticence to address racial injustice head-on frustrating. Very quickly, the terms of Obama's political viability became clear."He had been framed as post-racial, beyond these issues," she says. "And that framing became a constraint on what he could say and how directly he could address racial injustice."Even when Obama did address racial inequality more explicitly in his second term – most notably after the killing of 17-year-old Trayvon Martin in 2012 – the focus, she felt, remained narrow, failing to address the systemic nature of the problem.The Future of Racial Justice in AmericaAs Crenshaw reflects on her life's work and the current political climate, she remains committed to the struggle for racial justice, even as her ideas face unprecedented opposition. "If speaking out means being at odds with people I love, well, so be it," she writes. "I still love them. I hope they still love me."Looking ahead, Crenshaw sees both challenges and opportunities in the fight for racial justice. The backlash against critical race theory and intersectionality, she argues, is a sign of the power these ideas hold to transform American society. "There's a long history in this country of using the threat of violence to keep people under heel," she observes. "But the resistance has always been there too, and it's getting stronger."As America continues to grapple with its racial legacy, Crenshaw's work – and the concept of intersectionality she pioneered – offers a framework for understanding the complex ways race, gender, and other identities intersect to shape experiences of discrimination and privilege. Whether this framework will survive the current political assault remains to be seen, but Crenshaw's decades of scholarship and activism have already left an indelible mark on American discourse and law.

The United States military has officially ended mandatory flu vaccinations for its service members, marking a significant shift in public health policy under the Trump administration. Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth announced the decision Tuesday, citing principles of 'medical autonomy' and religious freedom, while individual military branches are given a 15-day window to request maintaining the mandate. Key Developments Hegseth announced the end of mandatory flu vaccines for military personnel in a video shared on social media The decision allows military services to request keeping the mandate in place within 15 days This follows a particularly severe flu season in the US when infections surged The Trump administration has framed vaccine refusal as a matter of personal moral and religious principle Over 8,400 military members were previously ejected for not taking the COVID-19 vaccine mandate in 2021 The administration has also rolled back vaccine recommendations for children Data & Market Impact While there isn't specific financial data in the article, this policy shift could impact: Pharmaceutical companies producing flu vaccines for military contracts Public health outcomes in military communities Military readiness and deployment capabilities during flu season The broader landscape of vaccine mandates in federal institutions Why This Matters This decision carries significant implications for multiple stakeholders: For military personnel: It grants greater autonomy over personal health decisions but may increase vulnerability to preventable diseases For military readiness: The removal of mandates could potentially impact troop readiness during flu season, though the allowance for branch-specific requests mitigates this somewhat For public health: This continues the Trump administration's rollback of public health measures implemented during COVID-19 For civil liberties: It represents a victory for those advocating for medical freedom and bodily autonomy For national security: The balance between individual freedoms and collective protection in military settings is being redefined Expert Insight The decision reflects a broader ideological shift in how the federal government approaches public health mandates. By framing the issue around medical autonomy rather than scientific efficacy, the administration is prioritizing individual choice over collective protection—a significant departure from public health principles that have guided military health requirements for decades. The allowance for military branches to potentially maintain mandates suggests recognition of operational needs while still adhering to the administration's anti-mandate stance. This creates a patchwork approach that could lead to inconsistent health protections across different branches of the military. What Happens Next Individual military branches will decide within 15 days whether to maintain flu vaccine mandates Legal challenges are likely, similar to those faced when the administration rolled back vaccine recommendations for children Other federal agencies may follow suit in ending vaccine mandates Public health officials may need to develop alternative strategies to encourage voluntary vaccination The military may see increased recruitment among those opposed to vaccine mandates This could set a precedent for ending other public health requirements in federal institutions

South Africa announced the appointment of Roelf Meyer, a 78‑year‑old former minister and chief negotiator for the apartheid government, as its new ambassador to the United States. The decision, made by President Cyril Ramaphosa, is intended to heal the diplomatic breach that widened after the United States, under President Donald Trump, expelled the previous envoy, Ebrahim Rasool, in March 2025. Meyer replaces Rasool, who was dismissed after publicly labeling Trump’s global movement as “white supremacist.” Since then, Pretoria has lacked formal representation in Washington, a gap the government hopes to close with Meyer’s extensive negotiation experience. The bilateral relationship has deteriorated since Trump assumed office in January 2024, with the U.S. president repeatedly criticising South Africa’s affirmative‑action policies and falsely alleging a “white genocide.” Trump’s administration even offered expedited U.S. citizenship to Afrikaners claiming persecution, while freezing foreign assistance over a land‑ownership law that mandates at least 30 % Black participation in companies. South Africa’s recent actions have further strained ties: filing a genocide case against Israel at the International Court of Justice and inviting Iran to a BRICS naval exercise off its coast, prompting Washington to accuse Pretoria of “cosying up to Iran.” The BRICS grouping, of which South Africa is a founding member, is viewed by Trump as an economic challenge to U.S. dominance.In a statement, Ramaphosa described Meyer as “a very loyal and patriotic South African” who is “more than qualified” to re‑calibrate relations with the United States and engage with stakeholders on Capitol Hill and across federal agencies. Meyer, who leads the global consultancy In Transformation Initiative, has a long‑standing record in peace negotiations across Northern Ireland, Sri Lanka, Rwanda, Burundi, Kosovo, Bolivia, the Basque region and the Middle East. Domestically, he was the chief negotiator for the white‑minority government during the early‑1990s talks that ended apartheid, later serving as Minister of Constitutional Development under Nelson Mandela and co‑founding the United Democratic Movement before joining the African National Congress in 2006. Critics, notably the Economic Freedom Fighters (EFF), argue that appointing a former apartheid official signals a willingness to appease Trump’s “white supremacist whims” and that Meyer’s age limits opportunities for younger diplomats. The EFF highlighted his past role in the Department of Law and Order, which enforced apartheid repression. Despite the political controversy, South African analysts stress that the priority for the new ambassador is economic. U.S.–South Africa bilateral trade stands at $26 billion, making Washington Pretoria’s second‑largest trading partner after China. The focus, according to researcher Thembisa Fakude, will be on attracting U.S. investment and creating jobs rather than merely countering Trump’s rhetoric. When Ramaphosa visited the White House in May 2025, he included two white South African golfers in the delegation to soften Trump’s concerns about alleged persecution of white farmers. However, Fakude notes that most South Africans are indifferent to the “artificial” accusations and are more interested in tangible economic benefits. The appointment of Meyer thus represents a calculated diplomatic gamble: leveraging his negotiation pedigree to restore confidence, while navigating domestic criticism and a volatile U.S. political climate.

The White House Council of Economic Advisers released an analysis estimating that the United States faces a shortage of roughly 10 million homes. The report argues that easing regulatory burdens could unlock a construction surge, stabilise home prices, expand home‑ownership and accelerate overall economic growth. President Donald Trump signed two executive orders in March directing federal agencies to reduce housing‑regulation costs and to facilitate mortgage lending by smaller banks. Yet, critics note that the administration has been slow to prioritize high housing costs amid falling approval ratings tied to tariffs, the US‑Israel conflict with Iran, and unmet inflation‑reduction promises. Mortgage rates have risen from just under 6 % to 6.37 % for a 30‑year loan, further inflating the cost of home purchase. Trump has publicly defended higher home prices to protect existing owners, stating, “I don’t want to drive housing prices down… I want to drive housing prices up for people that own their homes.” The housing chapter of the annual Economic Report of the President, obtained by the Associated Press, outlines a blueprint showing how increased homebuilding could benefit the middle class and the broader economy, providing a potential political narrative for the president. According to the report, if homebuilding had continued at its pre‑2008 pace, the nation would have **10 million more houses** today. The 2008 crisis, driven by risky lending and a housing bubble, still casts a long shadow. Home prices have surged **82 % since 2000**, while median incomes have risen only **12 %**, a disparity previously softened by historically low mortgage rates. The post‑COVID inflation spike and higher rates have made affordability a top concern for voters under 40. Regulatory costs—dubbed the “bureaucrat tax”—are estimated to add **over $100,000 per new home** through updated building codes, compliance fees and zoning approvals. The report projects that trimming these costs could enable the construction of **up to 13.2 million homes**, potentially delivering an **average 1.3 percentage‑point boost to annual GDP** over the next decade and supporting **two million manufacturing and construction jobs**. One administration official, speaking on condition of anonymity, suggested that federal funding to states could be tied to regulatory reductions, creating a financial incentive for local governments. The analysis also criticises the green‑energy housing standards introduced under former President Joe Biden, which mandate more efficient HVAC systems and water‑heater requirements. Citing a 2021 National Association of Home Builders study, the report claims these standards could add **up to $31,000** to a new home’s price, with a **payback period of up to 90 years** for homeowners via lower utility bills. While rolling back such standards might lower upfront costs, the report acknowledges potential long‑term utility‑bill increases for owners. Legal challenges further complicate the picture: a Texas federal judge recently sided with 15 Republican‑led states, deeming the Biden‑era standards for federally backed housing **unlawful**. Overall, the White House’s proposal positions regulatory reform as a lever to address the housing deficit, stimulate economic growth, and generate jobs, while navigating the political and environmental trade‑offs inherent in the debate.

The United States has long honored past presidents by naming airports, dams and monuments after them, but President Donald Trump is pushing the practice to an extreme, seeking to become the most commemorated leader in American history. Less than a year and a half into his second term, Trump’s brand has proliferated across government buildings, federal agencies and even consumer platforms. In February, the administration unveiled TrumpRx, a prescription‑drug website that listed only 43 medications—most of which are available as cheaper generics elsewhere—yet proudly displayed the former president’s signature and logo. Just weeks later, the White House and the U.S. Navy announced a new "Trump class" of battleships, billed as the "largest ever built." A Pentagon release noted that the Navy has not used battleships in combat for 35 years, suggesting the project is more a vanity exercise than a strategic necessity. Federal institutions have not been spared. In December 2025 the U.S. Institute of Peace was renamed the "Donald J. Trump United States Institute of Peace," a move the White House framed as a reminder of "strong leadership" for global stability—just weeks before the administration launched a military strike on Iran. Trump’s influence extended to the arts when, in February 2025, he appointed a new board to the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts and installed himself as chair. The board voted in December to rename the venue the "Donald J. Trump and John F. Kennedy Center," a change that immediately faced a legal challenge. Republican lawmakers have largely embraced the naming spree. One congressman introduced legislation to carve Trump’s likeness onto Mount Rushmore, while another proposed naming a major airport after him, underscoring the party’s willingness to reward the president’s personal brand. Political scientist Steven Levitsky of Harvard warned that Trump operates "unconstrained" by advisers or party elders, noting that today’s Republican ambition often hinges on pleasing the president, including attaching his name to public projects. Visual propaganda has also surged. Giant banners bearing Trump’s image now hang from the Department of Justice and the Department of Labor buildings, a rarity for a sitting president and a practice more typical of authoritarian regimes, according to Princeton sociologist Kim L. Scheppele. Beyond buildings, the administration has pursued numismatic honors. A 24‑karat gold coin featuring Trump standing over a desk was approved by a hand‑picked arts commission, and drafts of a new $1 coin displayed an air‑brushed profile of the former president. The Treasury Department announced that Trump’s signature will appear on U.S. paper currency later this year, a move Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent described as a "powerful way to recognize historic achievements" of the nation. Critics argue that the public does not share the president’s enthusiasm. The 2026 National Parks Pass, which traditionally showcases natural scenery, sparked outrage when a draft featured Trump’s stern face with a spectral George Washington behind him. A cottage industry of stickers emerged to cover the image, forcing the National Park Service to warn that such alterations could void the pass. White House spokesperson Davis Ingle defended the branding, claiming it reflects Trump’s “vast accomplishments,” including the largest tax cut in history and border security measures. Yet scholars and opponents contend that the relentless self‑promotion blurs the line between public service and personal aggrandizement. As the branding campaign continues, legal challenges, public pushback, and questions about fiscal priorities suggest that Trump’s quest to name everything after himself may soon encounter more than just decorative resistance.

House Republicans have shot down a bill passed by the Senate that would have resumed funding for federal agencies tasked with airport screenings, exacerbating a standoff that has resulted in chaos at airports as workers go without pay.In the early hours of Friday morning, the Senate unanimously passed a bill that would finance most agencies under the Department of Homeland Security (DHS), including the Transportation Security Administration (TSA), the US Coast Guard, and the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA).However, Republican House Speaker Mike Johnson confirmed he would not bring the Senate-passed bill to the floor for a vote, slamming it as a “joke”. Johnson suggested that the House could advance its own bill fully funding all DHS agencies for two months.President Donald Trump signed an executive memo directing DHS to work with the White House budget director to find a way to pay TSA employees, who have gone without pay since the partial government shutdown began in mid-February.“America’s air travel system has reached its breaking point. This is an unprecedented emergency situation,” Trump wrote in the memo, blaming the impasse on Democrats.Democratic lawmakers have slammed Republicans for rejecting bills that would ensure that TSA employees are paid while continuing to withhold additional funds from immigration enforcement.

Anthropic, a leading artificial intelligence company, has taken the US Department of Defense to court in a bid to overturn a ban on its AI model being used by the military and government contractors. The ban was imposed after Anthropic refused to allow its Claude AI chatbot to be used for domestic mass surveillance and fully autonomous lethal weapons.The dispute centers on the company's concerns about the use of its technology for purposes that could potentially infringe on civil liberties and international humanitarian law. Anthropic's CEO, Dario Amodei, has expressed concerns about AI being used in authoritarian ways, which has led to tensions with the US government and former President Donald Trump, who has labeled the company a "RADICAL LEFT, WOKE COMPANY".In a federal court in northern California, Judge Rita Lin presided over a hearing for a temporary injunction sought by Anthropic. The company's lawsuit claims that the government's actions are unprecedented and unlawful, and that they violate Anthropic's First Amendment rights. The government, on the other hand, argues that its decision to bar the use of Anthropic's technology is a legitimate exercise of its authority.The case has significant implications for the use of AI in military and government operations, and could set a precedent for the regulation of AI technology in the US. Anthropic's technology is deeply intertwined with government operations, including in the military, where it is reportedly being used to select and analyze targets of missile strikes in Iran. The company's AI model has been used by various government agencies over the past year, making it a challenging task to disentangle federal agencies from its use.