Carr speaks. Jimmy sits.

A comedian makes social commentary. A government official threatens action. A network pulls the plug. This isn’t a story from Moscow or Beijing—it’s what just happened to Jimmy Kimmel, right here in the United States.

ABC took Kimmel off the air after Brendan Carr, chair of the Federal Communications Commission (FCC), floated the idea that the network could be punished for Kimmel’s remarks. Carr, on a conservative podcast, said Kimmel’s comments were part of a “concerted effort to lie to the American people.” Hours later, ABC folded. The Walt Disney Company, which owns ABC, put keeping a regulator happy ahead of protecting free speech.

This kind of quick surrender should set off alarms for anyone who cares about open debate and free speech.

When government threats can silence comedians, we cross a line that the First Amendment was built to stop. The First Amendment, which protects free speech, exists to keep government intimidation out of the public square.

But the story doesn’t stop there.

Nexstar, which owns local TV stations across the country, joined in. Nexstar announced it would drop Kimmel’s show from its ABC-affiliated stations. Why would Nexstar back government censorship? The answer is simple: money.

Nexstar wants to merge with Tegna, another big media company. That deal needs the FCC’s sign-off. By pulling Kimmel, Nexstar sent a clear signal to Carr: We’ll play ball if you approve our merger. This is what happens when regulatory power warps the market for ideas.

Let’s break this down.

A comedian is commenting on the state of affairs. A government official doesn’t like them. Companies that need government approval silence the comedian. This chain of events would fit right in with strongman politics overseas. It should outrage Americans.

The danger here is bigger than any one show.

If the FCC can shut down speech it doesn’t like, who draws the line? Today it’s Kimmel. Tomorrow it could be any journalist, commentator, or critic. When we let government officials punish speech they dislike, we lose what makes America different from less free countries.

Business leaders should take note. Companies that bow to pressure on speech turn into tools for censorship. They trade their backbone for a shot at regulatory favors. This kind of deal poisons both business and democracy.

Look at the timing. Carr speaks. Companies scramble. Shows vanish. This isn’t how free markets or free speech work. This is fear in action. When business decisions turn on regulatory threats, not audience choice or company values, the market breaks down.

We’ve seen this before in other countries. Officials target critics. Businesses fall in line to protect deals or licenses. Independent voices go quiet. Democracy weakens. America is supposed to be different. The Constitution is supposed to stop this. Yet we’re watching it play out.

The answer is simple, but not easy: courage.

Media companies must stand up to regulatory threats. Business leaders must call out government censorship, even if it’s risky. Citizens must demand that regulators focus on their real jobs, not policing late-night jokes. Most of all, we must protect the speech we dislike, not just the speech we agree with.

Once government gets to decide which jokes are allowed, we’ve already lost the bigger fight for freedom.

-Marc

YouTube's $100 billion creator payout: The end of media as we know it

Not long ago, most people saw YouTube creators as hobbyists, nerds, or amateur filmmakers shooting videos in their basements for fun. Fast forward twenty years, and YouTube has paid them $100 billion. That's real money—one hundred billion dollars flowing directly to people who make videos, bypassing the traditional media giants entirely.

This shift isn't an anomaly.

It's a signal that the creator economy has outgrown its humble beginnings. What started as a quirky corner of the web now rivals Hollywood and major newsrooms. When a single platform pays out more than most countries' entire media budgets, it's time to pay attention.

YouTube's recent push into artificial intelligence amplifies this transformation. These new tools enable anyone to create professional-looking videos without expensive equipment or advanced technical skills. I've been discussing the shift toward more amateur, agile video creation for years, and now we're witnessing it unfold in real time. Anyone with a smartphone can produce content that rivals professional TV studios. The barriers that once protected big media have crumbled.

For decades, traditional media companies controlled the game. They owned the channels, theaters, expensive cameras, and the professionals who operated them. That advantage is rapidly disappearing.

Today, solo creators armed with AI tools can move faster than any corporate team. They don't need sign-off from multiple layers of management. They speak directly to their audiences—no focus groups, no market research required. When people crave authentic voices over corporate messaging, these creators win.

Big Media spends millions producing a single TV episode. Creators make content people love for a fraction of that cost. They don't pay for sprawling offices, high-paid executives, or legacy distribution networks. Every dollar saved can be reinvested in content—or go straight to their pockets.

This wave extends far beyond entertainment. Newsrooms now compete with independent journalists breaking stories on social media. Educational institutions face YouTubers who explain complex topics through engaging, accessible videos. Even corporate trainers struggle to match the reach and effectiveness of online educators.

Policymakers face a significant challenge. Existing broadcast regulations were designed when only a select few could reach mass audiences. Now, anyone can reach millions instantly. We need new frameworks for content moderation, information accuracy, and fair competition—the old rules simply don't apply.

TikTok represents another seismic shift. It's not merely social media; it's handheld television on steroids, delivering access to countless global creators through hyper-personalized feeds. Its AI-driven recommendation engine tailors content to individual preferences with unprecedented precision.

Communications experts like Kevin Munger from Penn State University argue that short-form video communicates information more efficiently than traditional text-based content. Given TikTok's television-like influence, there's growing momentum to regulate it similarly to traditional broadcasters under frameworks like the Communications Act of 1934.

Countries from Canada to China have implemented television and communications regulations, highlighting the urgent need for similar oversight of platforms like TikTok.

Civic leaders and communications professionals cannot afford to ignore this transformation. Many still rely on strategies built for a world of media gatekeepers—a world that's rapidly disappearing. Tomorrow's leaders must understand creator economics, AI-powered tools, and direct-to-audience models.

The $100 billion YouTube payout isn't the conclusion of this story—it's the opening chapter. As AI capabilities expand, content creation will become even more accessible. Traditional media companies face a stark choice: adapt to this new reality or watch their influence diminish. The creators have already moved forward. The rest of us should take note.

-Marc

*****

Marc A. Ross is a geopolitical strategist and communications advisor who is authoring a book entitled Globalization and American Politics: How International Economics Redefined American Foreign Policy and Domestic Politics.

The Keynes-Hayek paradox: Why a camel driver and a CEO share the same economic DNA

I took this photograph in 2008 in rural India—a man guiding his camel through a marketplace, laden with produce which I believe was destined for local vendors. The image has stayed with me for years, not for its exotic appeal, but for what it represents about our interconnected yet paradoxical world. This farmer and I inhabit the same planet, participate in the same global economy, and live under the same pressures of supply and demand. Yet our methods of moving goods to market could hardly be more different. While I navigate web-based technologies and have access to e-commerce in a climate-controlled office, he relies on a beast of burden his ancestors might have used a thousand years ago.

This stark contrast illuminates a fundamental question that has shaped international economics and American foreign policy for over a century: Why do nations organize their economies so differently? Why does China's government direct massive state-owned enterprises while Silicon Valley entrepreneurs launch companies from garages? Why do European governments maintain extensive social safety nets while Americans celebrate individual self-reliance? How do these different approaches to economic organization affect global trade, international relations, and America's role in the world?

The answers lie not in abstract economic theory, but in a very human story—an intellectual battle between two brilliant economists whose ideas were forged in the crucible of global war, economic collapse, and social upheaval. John Maynard Keynes and Friedrich Hayek, working literally side by side during World War II blackouts in Cambridge, developed fundamentally opposing visions of how modern economies should function. Their debate, intensely personal yet profoundly philosophical, would reshape not just economic policy but the entire architecture of international relations.

Keynes, the celebrity intellectual with artistic connections and media savvy, argued that government intervention could smooth capitalism's destructive boom-and-bust cycles. His ideas promised democratic leaders a middle path between laissez-faire capitalism and communist central planning—a way to "do something" about economic crises without abandoning democratic principles. Hayek, the Austrian exile who had witnessed firsthand the collapse of empires and the rise of totalitarianism, warned that government intervention in markets would inevitably lead down a "road to serfdom." For him, free markets weren't just efficient—they were essential to human freedom.

This wasn't merely an academic dispute. The stakes were enormous: which economic philosophy would guide the reconstruction of a war-torn world? How would the emerging American superpower organize global trade and finance? What role would a government play in managing industrial economies? The answers would determine whether the twentieth century belonged to capitalism or communism, to American leadership or Soviet dominance, to individual liberty or collective planning.

The intellectual battle between Keynes and Hayek ultimately shaped the Bretton Woods system, the Marshall Plan, NATO, and every major institution of the post-war international order. Even boardrooms of the greatest, world-class multinational corporations cannot escape this intellectual battle. More importantly, their competing visions continue to influence how American policymakers understand globalization, trade policy, and economic competition with China. When US President Biden announces massive infrastructure investments, he's channeling Keynesian logic. When US President Trump makes a ten percent investment stake in Intel, he's channeling Keynesian logic. When critics warn about industrial policy distorting markets, they're echoing Hayekian concerns. When the US Treasury Secretary travels to Beijing to discuss economic cooperation, they are navigating the same fundamental tension between state-directed and market-driven approaches to development.

Understanding this historical context isn't merely academic—it's essential for anyone seeking to comprehend modern globalization and America's evolving foreign policy. The intellectual framework established in the 1940s continues to shape our understanding of economic sovereignty, international cooperation, and the relationship between prosperity and security. The camel driver in rural India and the Silicon Valley entrepreneur operate in an economic system whose basic architecture was designed by thinkers responding to crises that predated both of their births.

-Marc