The Free Press

Cliff Asness is a very funny, very smart hedge fund manager whose firm, AQR Capital Management, has some $254 billion in assets. He has been in the investment business for over three decades. When I emailed Asness recently to get his thoughts about the disaster that befell Leopold Aschenbrenner’s hedge fund, Situational Awareness, which lost roughly $35 billion over the course of two weeks in late July, he replied: “For the future, let’s file the phrase ‘You never go full Kelly’ under the heading ‘Things of which you should be situationally aware.’ ”

On Wall Street, “going full Kelly” means constructing a portfolio that aims for the maximum possible return without the slightest regard for the potential risk of loss. And that is certainly how the 25-year-old Aschenbrenner appears to have operated his fund. He loaded up on AI-related stock—data center builders like CoreWeave and Nebius; chipmakers like Micron Technology and VanEck Semiconductor—while shorting software companies like Salesforce and Intuit, betting that they would fall. His thesis was that the artificial intelligence models emerging from OpenAI, Anthropic, and the other AI companies would soon obliterate the software and application companies. And to goose his returns he took on an enormous amount of debt to buy stocks. Rarely has the phrase “hedge fund” been such a misnomer; this was the opposite of a hedge.

And for a while he looked like a genius, which is often the case when a fund manager goes full Kelly with a concentrated portfolio of hot stocks. In June, The Wall Street Journal breathlessly reported that the Situational Awareness fund was up 1,000 percent in the two years since it opened, including 270 percent in the first five months of 2026.

Aschenbrenner’s fund had emerged from a 165-page paper he had written in 2024 in which he had predicted that the AI revolution was coming much sooner than most people anticipated—and in this, he turned out to be right. The podcaster Tim Ferriss went so far as to call Aschenbrenner the “Nostradamus of AI” who was “as close to clairvoyant as you could possibly be.” Investors pored over his SEC filings, seeking to buy whatever he was buying. His early investors included some of the leading lights of the tech world, including Patrick and John Collison, the co-founders of Stripe, and Daniel Gross, who is heading up Meta’s AI efforts. At its peak, the fund held $45 billion in assets, according to CNBC, an astonishing number given Aschenbrenner’s age and lack of investing experience.

And then, seemingly in the blink of an eye, it came crashing down. In the span of two weeks, mid- to late July, the AI stocks he favored all fell hard, most of them down over 30 percent, while the software firms he had shorted were all up by a similar amount. Meanwhile, the debt Aschenbrenner had taken on came back to bite him.

CEUTA, Spain — I reached Abdelhadi just before he crossed the fence separating Spain’s North African territory of Ceuta from his home in Morocco. He was surrounded by thousands of other young Moroccan men, dressed in swimsuits and Spanish soccer jerseys, and he stepped out of the throng to speak to me. “I can’t talk for long, I’ve got to go home and see my mom!” he said, grinning through a wispy mustache and goatee as he pulled me in for a hug.

A commerce and marketing student from Casablanca, Abdelhadi couldn’t have been older than 18 or 19. He explained that he had rushed a Moroccan border checkpoint and swam 10 yards along the coast to evade Spanish authorities after reading online that a Spanish Supreme Court ruling would grant him asylum in Europe if he could reach Ceuta—a Spanish exclave on Morocco’s northern coast. But after the Spanish military informed him that this was not true, he and his friends returned to the border, hoping to make it home in time for dinner that evening.

“We thought that if we could stay for one month, then we’d be able to go to Spain, but when we entered, we found out that it is full and there is no place to stay,” Abdelhadi said as his friends nodded behind him, flashing thumbs-up and peace signs at the news cameras that had gathered in front of them. “Now it is time for us to go home.”

I went viral on X last week by surfacing a remarkable fact: For the first time on record, more Americans consume marijuana every day than smoke cigarettes or drink alcohol every day.

Those results show up in the new data tables for the National Survey on Drug Use and Health, the federal government’s big annual drug use survey. By its estimates, marijuana eclipsed alcohol a few years back. That’s significant because, for a long time, alcohol has been the reference point for advocates of legalization. We tolerate alcohol just fine, so the argument goes, and alcohol prohibition failed. Alcohol is a popular recreational intoxicant, just like marijuana. Doesn’t legalization just mean adding another product like—or, arguably, healthier than—alcohol to our culture?

The new data answer with a resounding “no.”

It sounds like the stuff of a summer thriller.

Using cyber tools, one of our adversaries, maybe Iran, maybe North Korea, or possibly, a criminal enterprise, takes over the operations of a drinking water utility. The amount of purifying chemicals applied by automation is significantly increased or completely stopped. Before the change is caught, a dozen people in the area get sick. It is barely a news story outside of the community. Negligence, not sabotage, is assumed.

Two days later, in another part of the U.S., the same happens at three drinking water utilities. This time, several children are hospitalized. A coincidence, perhaps, but the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) and the FBI send investigators to the affected communities to quietly ask questions. Again, it is a local story with no one connecting the dots.

But when it happens again two days later at five additional drinking water utilities, including in a midsize city, it becomes national news. A panic ensues. There is a run on bottled water in supermarkets, gas stations, corner stores. There are reports of vending machines pried open for the water bottles.

Bottled water supplies run out nationally. The president addresses the nation, assuring everyone that there is no reason to worry, that nearly all water is safe to drink. Few people accept these explanations. Riots break out.

“You’re getting killed in the comments!” It’s not a text any writer wants to receive, but I wasn’t surprised. After all, I’d just written a piece that was gently critical of America, and Free Press readers are a patriotic bunch; of course you leapt to your country’s defense.

For context: I’m British, I’d just been in an active-shooter situation in Washington, D.C., and I was reflecting on the Second Amendment. “Is it worth it letting civilians have guns? Does it really make this country more free?” I wrote. “Can you explain it to me? I want to know.”

I meant what I said. I genuinely wanted to hear from someone who believes what half the American population believes: That it’s important to protect a citizen’s right to bear arms. The whole point—and the privilege—of being a journalist is getting into the hearts and minds of people who think differently.

Which brings me back to that text I got—the one about being killed in the comments.

It was from my friend and colleague Larissa Phillips, who I’ve edited since she joined The Free Press two years ago—and who happened to be perfectly placed to answer my appeal: “Help me understand.” Because once upon a time, Larissa herself was vehemently anti-gun—and now, she’s planning to get one.

A thread that runs through a lot of Larissa’s writing here at The Free Press is how moving from bright-blue Brooklyn to a red area of upstate New York changed her perspective—on Republicans, on marriage, on America itself. In today’s essay, she writes that when she left New York City, she wouldn’t even let her kids have a water gun, but moving to a part of the country where firearms are a part of daily life, she slowly came to question her assumptions about the Americans who owned and used them.

This is the story of how she fired a bullet for the first time. —Freya Sanders

I jammed my palm right up against the grip, wrapped fingers around my firing hand, extended both arms, and squinted at the target through my glasses. With all systems in place, there was nothing left to do but pull the trigger. Bam! At a velocity of about 800 mph, the bullet shot down the barrel of the gun in my hand and seemed to instantaneously punch through the target. I checked my handiwork. A tiny hole had appeared just a couple inches south of the white circle in the middle. Not bad for my first time ever firing a pistol. I looked at my instructor. “Can I go again?”

Until very recently, I could not have imagined taking lessons on how to shoot a handgun. I have spent most of my life extremely opposed to every single type of firearm. Guns are involved in most murders; they escalate volatile situations, land hotheaded young men in prison, and kill innocent people. I grew up the child of two anti-war idealists who deplored violence, and as a suburban kid, I had little exposure to hunting, which I imagined as a pastime for drunk slobs who wanted to massacre wildlife. When I grew up and became a parent myself, I was haunted by the specter of school shootings. The Columbine High School massacre in Colorado happened just two weeks after my first child was born in 1999; I held my tiny infant against me as I took in the horror on the news.

Not long after that, I set down roots in Park Slope, Brooklyn, where the default position on guns was: They’re bad; let’s get rid of them. We wondered: What if we stopped making them? Can we hold gun manufacturers liable for gunshot deaths? What about a buy-back program like Australia did? I readily participated in these conversations, even though I was not as extreme as some of my friends, who said things like: “No guns. Ever.” I thought some people should have guns, but only highly trained, background-checked professionals. At the time, I didn’t know anyone who had a gun—and the prospect of owning one myself never crossed my mind.

But since moving from one of the most liberal places in the country to a farm in a red part of upstate New York, my views on firearms have shifted dramatically. In fact, I’m actually thinking about getting a handgun.

In case you haven’t noticed, socialism is suddenly surging in America—especially among young adult voters. Nearly two-thirds of Americans ages 18 to 29 hold a favorable view of socialism. And not just the warm and fuzzy Danish kind of socialism: Candidates aligned with the Democratic Socialists of America, who officially advocate abolishing Immigration and Customs Enforcement and nationalizing large corporations, have won primary victories in states and districts across the country. Most famously, after storming to the New York City mayoral seat in November, self-described democratic socialist Zohran Mamdani is riding high, with a favorability rating of 58 percent.

As a behavioral scientist, I am frequently asked a simple question: Why?

One explanation for the American left’s populist surge is that this is the inevitable future of American politics. Capitalism has run its course, the argument goes, producing the world’s first trillionaire while millions struggle to pay rent and buy groceries. Economic inequality and social injustice can only deepen without radical change. Democratic socialism is the natural and logical terminus, and the only long-term solution.

Here’s another explanation, which—setting aside my own political views—I find more likely: Democratic socialism, as we see it today, is a fad. Although it might wreak some havoc in the near future, it will collapse, to be remembered merely as a passing political fancy.

It’s Monday, August 3. This is The Front Page, your daily window into the world of The Free Press—and our take on the world at large. Today: Zineb Riboua on what really caused Spain’s migration crisis. Josh Code sits down with the literature professor fired for teaching literature. Michael Oren breaks down Donald Trump’s latest Gaza deal. And much more.

But first: the battle for Michigan—and the Democratic Party.

The Democratic Party’s civil war will see a major battle this week. The action will be in Michigan on Tuesday, when progressive populist Abdul El-Sayed will square off against Haley Stevens, a moderate congresswoman, in perhaps the most watched Senate primary of the cycle so far. El-Sayed is running as a fierce critic of Israel and the political establishment, not DSA-endorsed but certainly DSA-adjacent. Stevens is a far more conventional candidate, and has the backing of Michigan big hitters, including Governor Gretchen Whitmer.

The stakes are as high as the dividing lines are clear. The Democrats need to win the seat to stand a chance of taking control of the Senate. Victory for El-Sayed in a purple state like Michigan sets up the biggest test yet for the insurgent faction seeking to grab the reins of the Democratic Party.

Ahead of Election Day, we sent Olivia Reingold to Michigan to take the temperature of the race. Here’s what she found.

Matthew Yglesias watches Democratic Party infighting more closely than almost anyone. He’s a Democrat who says he’s tired of seeing his party play what he calls “loser politics.” On the latest episode of Conversations with Coleman, he talks to Coleman Hughes about the state of the Democratic Party, the rise of democratic socialists, and much more. Don’t miss their conversation:

From a moderate Democrat to someone much further left: Eric Hovagim has worked with New York City mayor Zohran Mamdani and popular Twitch streamer Hasan Piker. Now he’s living in China, where he makes videos about why the United States is the “fourth Reich,” why Elon Musk is a “valid military target,” and what makes the Chinese Communist Party great. Tanner Nau spoke to Hovagim. Read his piece for a look at one young American, whose story, while not exactly typical, is nonetheless representative of the kind of energy on the radical left today.

—The Editors

• President Trump announced on Sunday that talks with Iran will resume on Monday. The move follows his decision over the weekend to cancel a new round of strikes against the Islamic Republic, explaining that the two sides had reached the “perimeters of a deal” to reopen the Strait of Hormuz.

• At least seven states reported cyberattacks that interrupted their water systems last week. The incidents prompted the FBI to issue a federal warning about “malicious cyber actors,” with some intelligence officials saying the attacks could be coming from Iran.

• The number of Immigration and Customs Enforcement detentions hit a record high for the second Trump administration during the month of July. The surge comes after the agency significantly expanded its operations, making arrests in airports and immigration offices across the country.

• Bernie Moreno, the Republican senator from Ohio, declared Representative Max Miller—his former son-in-law—“unfit for office” this weekend. Moreno’s daughter has accused Miller of abusing her and their daughter.

• WestJet, Canada’s second biggest airline, halted hundreds of flights across the country this weekend due to a massive strike. The Canadian Union of Public Employees, which represents 4,400 flight attendants, is demanding higher wages.

• On Friday, federal prosecutors moved to dismiss charges alleging that damage to the Reflecting Pool in Washington, D.C., was caused by vandalism. Prosecutors say it actually came from a “botched installation,” while President Trump continues to allege foul play.

• Legendary actor Vincent Pastore passed away at age 80. Pastore is best-remembered for his role as Tony Soprano’s close confidant Salvatore on The Sopranos.

Matthew Yglesias is one of the few people writing about Democratic politics who is trying to win rather than just be right. He co-founded Vox, built one of the most widely read political Substacks in the country with Slow Boring, and has spent the better part of a decade arguing that the Democratic Party has been squandering winnable elections over what…

DETROIT, Michigan — On Saturday afternoon, Representative Haley Stevens was walking down Livernois Avenue when she spotted a black woman in a bedazzled “I <3 Jazz” T-shirt, clutching her husband’s arm as if to ask: Don’t I know that woman?

“Yeah, that’s right,” Stevens said, high-fiving her. “Your girl here!”

She reminded the couple that Tuesday is the last day to vote in a Senate primary that could determine whether Democrats retake the chamber in November. For a congresswoman carrying the weight of the Democratic establishment on her shoulders, Stevens is remarkably at ease. She’s a hugger, a hand-holder, the kind of politician who tells one voter “I love you” before greeting another with, “Hi, handsome, how are you?”

For months, Stevens, a moderate, has been dropping in the polls as her opponent, an anti-Israel populist named Abdul El-Sayed, soared. But then a poll released earlier this month showed Stevens up 46 points among black voters. That helps explain why Stevens, 43, is here in Sherwood Forest, a prominent black community north of Seven Mile Road, sticking it out even through the rain.

“Amazing shirt, by the way,” I watched her tell a black man in a T-shirt with the message “THE WORLD HAS ALWAYS NEEDED AFRICA” in all caps.

Late last week, the world was captivated by footage of tens of thousands of migrants crossing from Morocco into the Spanish territory of Ceuta—more than 60,000 over the course of roughly 24 hours. Spain has since rushed troops and resources to Ceuta to push migrants back across the border.

In the immediate aftermath, we published analyses of what this episode revealed, including Douglas Murray on the failure of Europe’s open-border policies, and Rod Dreher on the policy choices that left Spain so vulnerable.

Since then, competing narratives about the crisis have emerged online. According to some, the whole incident was a stunt orchestrated by the Moroccan government. According to others, Israel is somehow to blame. Today, Zineb Riboua explains what’s really behind the migrant surge—and why fierce domestic divisions between the Moroccan government and radical Islamist actors made it all but inevitable. —The Editors

To understand why tens of thousands of Moroccan migrants just stormed into the Spanish territory of Ceuta, it is not enough to understand European open-border policies—you must also understand the dynamics in their country of origin.

Morocco is a semi-constitutional monarchy led by a king, who governs alongside an elected parliament where Islamist, secular, and nationalist parties compete for political influence. However, Islamist groups dedicated to challenging the legitimacy of the monarchy itself also operate within the country—largely because they believe the king does not conform to their interpretation of Islamic law and governance. Opposition intensified after Morocco normalized relations with Israel under the U.S.-brokered Abraham Accords. Although the government that signed the agreement was Islamist-led, many of the political actors involved later challenged normalization after they left office, capitalizing on Palestinian narratives after October 7 to mobilize domestic opposition.