Nuclear power has historically been a divisive issue: During the Cold War, an entire generation feared annihilation at the hands of the same basic technology that some want to use to power their homes.

That's unfortunate, because nuclear energy has considerable benefits—a reliable source of power with very few greenhouse gas emissions—with increasingly lower risks.

Thankfully, it seems that message is catching on with people from both major political parties.

"About six-in-ten U.S. adults now say they favor more nuclear power plants to generate electricity," Pew Research reported in October 2025. "That's up from 43% in 2020, driven by increasing support among both Republicans and Democrats." The authors noted that "Republicans are more likely than Democrats" to favor the policy, with "roughly seven-in-ten Republicans and Republican-leaning independents" expressing support, but it still included 52 percent of Democrats and independents who lean in that direction.

Gallup found similar results earlier this year. The pollster "asked whether the U.S. should put more emphasis, less emphasis or about the same emphasis as it does now on producing domestic energy from each of six sources," wrote Megan Brenan. The six sources were solar, wind, nuclear, natural gas, oil, and coal.

"Nuclear energy is the only one of the six sources to see support grow since 2021, rising seven points to 46%," Brenan added. "This shift is notable given that preferences for nuclear energy had historically been more evenly divided among responses of more, less and the same." Instead, those favoring more emphasis on nuclear power outranked both those who want less and those who wish for it to stay the same, by about 20 points each.

It seems the consensus has been building: In 2024, a poll of first-time voters in The Wall Street Journal found overwhelming support for nuclear energy as a means of fighting climate change.

The trend is welcome, and it marks a major reversal of anti-nuclear sentiment that goes back decades.

The China Syndrome, a film about a possible meltdown at a fictional California nuclear plant, premiered in the U.S. in March 1979. One character in the film warns that a meltdown could "render an area the size of Pennsylvania permanently uninhabitable, not to mention the cancer that would show up later."

Less than two weeks later, in a disastrous bit of timing, a malfunction caused a partial meltdown at the Three Mile Island nuclear power plant near Harrisburg, Pennsylvania.

Thankfully, Three Mile Island was not a disaster. "Some radioactive gas was released a couple of days after the accident, but not enough to cause any dose above background levels to local residents," according to the World Nuclear Association. "There were no injuries or adverse health effects."

But those details were lost on the public. Several recording artists formed Musicians United for Safe Energy (MUSE), an activist group that opposed nuclear power. Just six months after Three Mile Island, MUSE held a series of "No Nukes" concerts at Madison Square Garden, plus a rally in Central Park that drew nearly 200,000 attendees.

That populist support spilled over into politics, particularly among Democrats. Running for president in 1980, Sen. Ted Kennedy (D–Mass.) called for a two-year moratorium on new nuclear plants. In its national platform, the Democratic Party pledged to "retire nuclear power plants in an orderly manner."

After the Three Mile Island incident, 39 planned nuclear plants were canceled.

That's a shame, for many reasons. As Reason's Ronald Bailey wrote in 2018, in a theoretical world where the development of U.S. nuclear power continued at its previous pace, "by 2015 it would have replaced all coal-burning and three-quarters of gas-fired electric power generation….Cumulative global carbon dioxide emissions would be about 18 percent lower, and annual global carbon dioxide emissions would be one-third less."

Yet even decades later, plenty of people—again, particularly Democrats—still opposed nuclear energy.

"Of all the Democratic divides on climate," Politico wrote in 2019, "the role of nuclear power may be the biggest. Progressives and some environmental groups have long lumped it into a category with fossil fuels, and some have spent decades opposing it."

At the time, a number of people were running to be the Democratic Party's presidential candidate, and many of them had strong opinions on nuclear energy. Sen. Elizabeth Warren (D–Mass.) said that she would not license any new nuclear reactors; Sen. Bernie Sanders (I–Vt.) pledged to go one step further and not renew the licenses of any existing reactors.

But things have changed in just a few short years, and nuclear energy is now an issue with potential bipartisan support. When did this pivot take place, and why?

"It was really around 2021, 2022, I would say that things really began to shift," James Walker, CEO of Nano Nuclear Energy, tells Reason. "A lot of the popular support looks like it's coming from younger people….It is a zero-carbon-emission power, and they have been raised to [be] more climate goal-focused" than older generations.

It's not just Gen Z either: Lawmakers are more keen on nuclear power now too. Earlier this month, the MORE American Fuel Act, sponsored by Sens. Cynthia Lummis (R–Wyo.) and Mark Kelly (D–Ariz.), passed the Senate unanimously. The bill "modernizes outdated Nuclear Regulatory Commission (NRC) licensing requirements for uranium enrichment facilities and aligns them with the process already used for other nuclear facilities and reactors," according to a press release from Lummis. It also "lets enrichment companies begin construction at their own risk instead of waiting years for a construction license before breaking ground, while preserving public participation and the NRC's rigorous safety standards."

"What we've seen up in Washington is that there is a nervousness around keeping pace with AI development," Walker adds. "There is a concern that rivals that are also investing very heavily into AI, such as China, are building nuclear reactors like crazy, and one of the reasons they're doing that is just so they have baseload power that allows them to scale up their systems. They are building two gigawatt-scale nuclear power plants every year at the moment, and a lot of it is to try and catch up with the U.S. tech industry."

The post Nuclear Power Now Has Bipartisan Support appeared first on Reason Magazine.

When Americans vote in the midterm elections next month, it seems likely that Democrats will see decisive victories across the country.

This trend seems likely to affect Georgia's two most high-profile races differently. Sen. Jon Ossoff, a Democrat, is running for reelection against Rep. Mike Collins, a Republican who represents the state's 10th congressional district, while in the race to replace Gov. Brian Kemp, former Atlanta Mayor Keisha Lance Bottoms faces Republican billionaire Rick Jackson.

Ossoff and Bottoms may both be Democrats, but their prospects look very different: A recent poll put Ossoff nearly seven points ahead of Collins, but Bottoms was a point and a half behind Jackson, trailing the senator from her own party by more than five points.

Democrats hope that if Ossoff does well enough, it will boost their other candidates. But it's worth asking why Bottoms, who was feted as a possible vice presidential candidate, is struggling to break even against someone with no prior name recognition, in a year expected to be a boon for her party.

It's possible that the crime and protests of 2020 could be weighing down Bottoms' candidacy in an otherwise auspicious year for Democrats.

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Mayor Bottoms and the 'COVID Crime Wave'

Bottoms' single term as mayor of Georgia's capital city would be defined by summer 2020. Amid the COVID-19 pandemic, violent crime rose across the country, but it was worse in Atlanta—homicides were up 59 percent, while most other cities averaged 33 percent. Bottoms herself later called it the "COVID crime wave."

Then on May 25 in Minneapolis, a police officer killed George Floyd, an unarmed black man accused of passing a counterfeit $20 bill. Footage went viral, and protesters across the country took to the streets.

In some places, including Atlanta, protests turned destructive, and the police responded in kind.

Bottoms called for peace. "If you care about this city, then go home," she exhorted rioters in a news conference. "When you burn down this city, you're burning down our community."

She won bipartisan praise. "Your passion, your composure, your balance, has been really incredible," then-presidential candidate Joe Biden told her.

But just days later, Atlanta police officers shot and killed a black man, Rayshard Brooks, in a Wendy's parking lot. Protesters gathered the next day and burned the restaurant to the ground.

Meanwhile, after the district attorney announced charges against the cops involved in Brooks' shooting, more than 170 officers called out sick in protest. Bottoms admitted that officer morale "is down tenfold."

Then on July 4, less than half a mile away from the site of Brooks' death, protesters shot into a car, killing 8-year-old Secoriea Turner.

The crime spike persisted into 2021, and in May of that year, Bottoms announced that she would not run for a second term.

Officially, she said, it was "time to pass the baton on to someone else," though her announcement "came as the city faces a homicide rate topping that of this time last year—a historically deadly one in Atlanta," Henri Hollis wrote at the Atlanta Journal-Constitution.

Indeed, it seems the "COVID crime wave" had caught up with her: A September 2021 poll found that while 57 percent of city residents approved of the job she was doing, 53 percent also felt the city was on the wrong track, including 48 percent of Democrats. The top issue was crime, which 70 percent of respondents felt was headed in the wrong direction.

She later told New York that by stepping down, she was "putting my emotional and mental health first"—a worthy reason, though a bit odd since she now seeks an even higher office.

Then again, she also had higher aspirations. Bottoms was one of the first officeholders to endorse Biden for president in 2020, and she later made his shortlist of potential running mates. After the end of her term, she joined Biden's White House as director of the Office of Public Engagement, after which she moved over to the President's Export Council for the remainder of his term.

Bottoms announced her run for governor just four months after leaving Washington. And while she locked up the Democratic nomination easily, winning 56 percent of the vote among seven candidates, she didn't exactly fire up the base, and it seems like she just expected to coast to victory.

"It feels a lot like she gained the nomination…largely from name identification," progressive journalist Zaid Jilani tells Reason. "She really wasn't raising that much money or spending that much on television….It should be a high-profile race in many ways, but the ideas she's putting forward are fairly rehashed," and "she doesn't have that much creative advertising."

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Rick Jackson's Deep Pockets and Shallow Record

Rick Jackson, meanwhile, seemed to come out of nowhere.

President Donald Trump endorsed Lt. Gov. Burt Jones in August 2025, and Jones led the Republican primary field at the end of that year.

While Kemp famously resisted Trump's efforts to subvert Georgia's presidential election results in 2020, Jones was a willing participant in the scheme.

"I've been the Trump guy since 2015, not '16," Jones bragged. "I've taken all the battle scars and everything else. I know who ran and hid during 2020 and everything else."

Then in February 2026, just three months before the primary, Jackson entered the race. He was a septuagenarian with no name recognition, but he was also quite wealthy, so he blanketed the state with ads to introduce himself to voters.

In six weeks, he spent over $30 million—"more than any candidate has ever spent in a primary race for Georgia governor, with more than two months before the May 19 election," wrote Jeff Amy of the Associated Press.

It worked: Jackson beat Jones in a primary runoff with 53 percent of the vote. By then, he had spent $108 million on his campaign while raising less than $400,000 from donors.

Jackson has made much of his background, as a child of poverty who entered the foster system at age 13 to escape a dysfunctional household. As an adult, he started in sales and worked his way up to entrepreneurship, starting Jackson Healthcare in 2000 and growing it to more than $1 billion in annual revenues. He is also a generous donor to charitable causes, particularly those relating to foster care.

But with no political record, Jackson can be hard to pin down on certain issues.

For example, one Jackson ad criticizes Bottoms for the rise of data centers in Atlanta, even though he has also spoken positively of their economic potential.

Georgia Democrats have tarred Jackson as a Trumpian election denier, singling out a comment he made at a campaign event: When asked if the 2020 election was stolen, Jackson replied, "That was totally ridiculous what happened in 2020 and our people really let us down." ("Just as Governor Kemp did, Rick acknowledges both Biden's win and that there were issues in the 2020 election that needed to be resolved in order to ensure Georgians have faith in our electoral system," a campaign spokesperson told CNN.)

During the primaries, he even took heat from both sides on abortion: Jones accused Jackson's company of working with Planned Parenthood, while Jackson himself seemed to suggest he wanted to change the state's abortion ban to remove exceptions for rape or incest. ("Rick believes we have a strong pro-life law in place and he wants to keep it as it is," his campaign said in a statement.)

And while he made Trump-like pledges, like to "make Georgia No. 1 in the nation for criminal deportations" and keep "the religion of woke ideology" out of schools, his platform calls for an "intelligent Medicaid expansion" in the state.

Jackson has also pivoted just over the course of the campaign.

He bragged in his campaign announcement video that he "donated a million bucks to Trump," and he's said that if elected, he would be "just like" Trump but "with a southern tone."

He said Trump had "no bigger supporter" than himself, and he could not name a single Trump policy he disagreed with. When Trump endorsed Jackson at a campaign rally in July, the candidate pointed to the president and said, "I'm going to be this man's favorite governor."

But like many other Republicans, Jackson has distanced himself from the president, whose approval rating is at an all-time low. The Atlanta Journal-Constitution reports that in campaign appearances, Jackson has stopped mentioning Trump directly, preferring to compare himself to Kemp, the sitting governor who remains popular.

He apparently also scrubbed all mentions of the president from his campaign website.

But one thing that has remained consistent in Jackson's campaign strategy is criticizing Bottoms' record as mayor.

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Will the 'COVID Crime Wave' Sink Bottoms?

Some of Jackson's campaign ads feature grateful children who grew up in foster care and benefited from his philanthropy, but for the most part, they have targeted Bottoms over her record.

One ad, titled "Disaster," paints Bottoms' tenure as exactly that, with the city becoming practically unlivable during summer 2020.

"Keisha ended cash bail, gutted the corrections budget, let Atlanta burn, and unleashed a crime wave," Jackson wrote on X to accompany another ad. "Then she walked away."

"If Keisha wants to run from her record," according to a campaign email, "we're going to make sure Georgia remembers exactly what that record was."

Many Jackson ads, flyers, and mailers have featured images of Secoriea Turner, the 8-year-old girl killed by gunfire. (Turner's parents have asked Jackson's campaign to stop.)

But is it fair to blame everything on Bottoms? While Atlanta was worse than most, many major cities saw large homicide spikes: Chicago's murder rate climbed more than 50 percent that year, while New York City's went up nearly 40 percent. Murders in Columbus, Ohio, rose a staggering 67 percent.

Regardless, Bottoms was in charge at the time. And the attacks do seem to have an effect, as she's locked in a dead heat against Jackson.

Granted, Bottoms was never a particularly strong candidate. When she ran for mayor in 2017, she won the runoff election by fewer than 800 votes, even with the endorsement of the outgoing mayor.

Georgia also has not elected a Democratic governor in nearly three decades, though it has elected Democrats to the U.S. Senate three times since 2020 and seems poised to reelect one this year.

There's also the fact of Jackson's money, saturating the state with eight-figure ad buys while Democrats were spending only a fraction of that.

Of course, money alone can't buy a victory: Kemp defeated Stacey Abrams in each of the last two races for governor, despite being comfortably outraised and outspent each time.

But Bottoms currently trails Ossoff by five points in an election cycle expected to be quite beneficial to their party.

It seems the race will serve as an indicator of how fresh the summer of COVID-19 still feels for Georgians.

"To the kind of voter that Jackson is courting, it probably is true that had Democrats [instead] nominated the mayor of Macon [a smaller Georgia city], they would be in a stronger position than nominating the mayor of Atlanta, especially one who was in power during those years," Jilani tells Reason. "If he wins, it demonstrates that that is still a fairly potent line of attack."

The post Atlanta's Former Mayor Is Running for Georgia Governor. The 2020 Protests Could Cost Her the Race. appeared first on Reason Magazine.

This year, Alaska held its primary elections on August 18.

As per a 2020 ballot measure, Alaska primary voters pick among all qualified candidates for a single office, regardless of party affiliation, and the top four then advance to the general election.

In the U.S. Senate primary, Republican incumbent Dan Sullivan won 41 percent of the vote, while former Rep. Mary Peltola, a Democrat, captured nearly 50 percent.

Dan Sullivan was also the distant third-place finisher—but in this case, it was Daniel J. Sullivan Jr., a retired schoolteacher who is also running as a Republican but is not the same person as Daniel S. Sullivan, the junior U.S. senator for the 49th state.

The presence of dual Dan Sullivans is a headache for Republicans, who have fought to keep Daniel J. off the ballot, concerned he would split their votes and cost their candidate his seat.

"Mary Peltola and Chuck Schumer know they can't beat Senator Sullivan on his record, so they're resorting to deceitful political maneuvers that attempt to trick Alaskans and buy a seat," a Republican spokesman told Fox News.

"We are looking into it," President Donald Trump said this week. "It's a disgrace." In fact, NBC News reported in July that the FBI and Department of Justice had launched an investigation "looking for possible wire fraud or a conspiracy to deprive Alaskan voters of a free and fair elections process, which could be a civil rights violation."

In August, the government apparently issued subpoenas, though Daniel J. later said he had not received anything.

But is what he is doing actually illegal? For that matter, should it be?

Carol Beecher, director of the Alaska Division of Elections, barred Daniel J. from the ballot in June after concluding that he was running "with the purpose of confusing or misleading the electorate and compromising the fairness of the ballot."

But a state superior court reversed that decision. "Despite the Division's assertion that Mr. Sullivan may be excluded from the ballot because he lacks 'good-faith,' there is no statute which provides such a criterion," wrote Judge Thomas A. Matthews. "The concept of 'good-faith,' or pure motive, or bona fide intent is simply absent." The Alaska Supreme Court agreed, keeping both Sullivans on the November ballot.

Granted, it seems extremely likely that Republicans are right, and Daniel J. is running specifically to hurt Daniel S.'s prospects.

"Campaign material metadata reveals that Amber Lee, a progressive consultant, authored a press release announcing [Daniel J.'s] Senate bid," WFMD reported in May.

Daniel J. told The New York Times that he was running as a moderate Republican in an attempt to steer the party away from its MAGA wing. But he also admitted that he had voted for the Democrat in the last three presidential races and for Peltola in her races for the U.S. House.

In Beecher's original order keeping Daniel J. off the ballot, she wrote that Daniel J. had asked to be identified as "Dan S. Sullivan" on the ballot, the same name as the senator's. (Alaska reporter Dermot Cole wrote in July that this was not true: Daniel J. wrote "Dan S. Sullivan" in an email to Beecher but followed up hours later to correct it to "Dan J. Sullivan.")

If Daniel J.'s goal truly is to mislead voters, then that is indefensible. But it's not clear that it's illegal, or whether it should be.

"I am not sure exploiting voter confusion about names is any worse than exploiting their ignorance about policy issues like crime, immigration, and health care," wrote George Mason University law professor Ilya Somin. "Trying to prevent such exploitation through criminal and civil liability is likely to violate the First Amendment. In addition, it would likely end up giving incumbent political leaders broad power to curb speech and control electoral campaigns that they cannot be trusted with."

"This is a case about someone running for office with impure motives who is lucky enough to have a name that could confuse some voters," agreed election law expert Richard Hasen. "I don't see how the government could criminalize his running for office for having impure motives. And if it could do so, then it could be a crime every time that the Republican Party backs a Green Party candidate, or Democrats support a MAGA candidate in a primary in the hopes that the candidate would be weaker against a Democrat in the general election. This stuff happens all the time."

But it's entirely possible that Alaska's ranked choice voting system will solve the problem on Election Day.

After the August open primary, the top four candidates compete on a ranked choice ballot, where voters list the candidates in order of preference. If no candidate gets an outright majority, then the lowest performer is eliminated, and every ballot that picked them first is retallied and applied to their second choice.

As long as every Alaskan who wants to vote for Dan Sullivan—either one—lists both Dan Sullivans as their first and second choices, then the system will take care of any confusion. In the (highly likely) event that Daniel J. does not capture a majority on the first ballot, his votes will be retallied and applied to their second choices. The only plausible hiccup is if Peltola, the Democratic candidate, wins a majority in the first round—in which case either Sullivan would have lost anyway.

Of course, Republicans have opposed the ranked choice system since Alaska adopted it. Former Gov. Sarah Palin, who ran against Peltola twice unsuccessfully, said ranked choice was "so weird" that "it results in voter suppression."

In a post last week on Truth Social, Trump called ranked choice voting "Corrupt" and said it "shouldn't be allowed in our Country."

"I just left Alaska, where we have a real bad thing," Trump said Wednesday at a campaign rally in Arizona. "They have the ranked choice voting, where you go into I guess some kind of a test tube or something, and they pick whoever the hell they want. That's another disgrace."

As ever, it's not clear what Trump was talking about. And despite Republicans' complaints, ranked choice voting works quite well: According to the American Bar Association, recent research finds that it "is an improvement over plurality voting with clear benefits in terms of representation, campaign quality, mobilization, and turnout." It also "encourages greater consensus building as well as more civil political campaigns," and voters find it easy to understand.

In the event that a political party finds itself, for example, with two Dan Sullivans on the ballot, ranked choice voting is a perfect solution. If only the party weren't so hostile to it.

The post What Happens When 2 Dan Sullivans Run for the Same Senate Seat? appeared first on Reason Magazine.

Flock Safety, an Atlanta-based company worth more than $8 billion, manufactures automated license plate readers (ALPRs), cameras that capture images of license plates and store them in a database that police can search.

Recently, the company has been under intense scrutiny over concerns about privacy and the cameras' capacity for misuse, leading some cities to cancel their Flock contracts. But it turns out that getting rid of Flock is easier said than done.

"When Elgin Community College hired Flock Safety to install six surveillance cameras in April 2025, President Peggy Heinrich thought they would 'enhance the safety and security of students,'" Lisa Kurian Philip reported last week at the Chicago Sun-Times.

The Chicago-area school signed up for a one-year contract with the company. It was not alone: Five of Illinois' 12 public universities, plus four of its community colleges,

But Heinrich began to have second thoughts as she learned more about how the cameras can be used—for example, Flock allowed U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) to access over 80,000 of its cameras. In September 2025, ICE arrested a student near Elgin's campus.

More than half of Elgin's students are Latino, Heinrich told the Sun-Times, and enrollment began to suffer.

"In August of 2025, Flock publicly announced it would no longer conduct pilot projects with federal agencies," according to the company.

Still, Heinrich said, the school chose to end its contract with Flock "out of an abundance of caution for our students."

"Elgin Community College staff notified Flock in October 2025 that they wanted to cancel their contract and have the cameras taken down," Philip wrote. "Within a day, Heinrich said, Flock rejected the request and refused to uninstall the equipment on the basis that the company had not breached their agreement."

The school reached out again in December, offering to pay out the rest of the contract, but according to Heinrich, Flock did not respond.

Since the school no longer wanted the cameras to operate, and Flock refused to remove or disable them, officials zip tied garbage bags over the cameras on campus. But in a peculiar twist, "workers in an unmarked vehicle, which Heinrich assumed belonged to Flock, repeatedly removed the coverings."

This continued until the school's contract expired in April, when Flock finally removed the cameras.

Granted, the situation is somewhat complicated by the fact that while Elgin is a public institution, Flock is a private company.

"Per Flock contract conditions, the company retains ownership of the products it sells to cities," Caroline Haskins reports at Wired. "This means that when people damage or destroy cameras, cities are on the hook for the cost." Covering cameras with garbage bags will apparently work until Flock comes and cuts them down, but removing or disabling the cameras without the company's permission will incur fees to replace them, even if the city has already said it doesn't want them anymore.

But since the product that Flock sells is a searchable database of license plate images compiled from its interconnected nationwide system of cameras, the reality is more complicated than that.

Indeed, while Flock says repeatedly that customers own all data that their cameras capture, that's little comfort when the information is also available to any other customer with access to Flock's database.

Between June 2024 and May 2025, police in Illinois searched the Flock database over 4,000 times for immigration-related reasons, even though a state law prohibits ALPRs' use for that exact purpose. This implies the searches were done at ICE's request, meaning federal immigration authorities could access not just the license plate data in those Illinois communities, but also the thousands of communities nationwide that use Flock cameras.

It's also particularly troubling that Flock would make it so difficult for customers to end their contracts. In that, Elgin Community College is not alone: Plenty of jurisdictions have kept using Flock even after supposedly canceling the service, though it's usually the police who fight the cancellations.

In June 2025, the Austin, Texas, City Council declined to renew its Flock contract. Though the city police department supported the program, officials cited concerns about the cameras' capacity to target vulnerable communities.

But in February of this year, public radio station KUT reported that at least two neighboring towns were sharing access to the Flock database with Austin police.

In July 2025, the Board of Lucas County Commissioners in Toledo, Ohio, voted 2–1 to approve 27 Flock license plate cameras across the county, costing $250,000 over four years. But a week later, one commissioner changed his mind, citing fears of how the data would be used, and the board voted again to rescind the previous approval.

In a letter to the Lucas County prosecutor the following day, Sheriff Michael J. Navarre said the commissioners "have a legal obligation to honor this contract" and alleged that the decision to rescind it was borne out of personal animus toward him.

"I cannot sit idly by and allow them to make decisions out of spite that negatively impact the safety of my deputies and the community they protect," he wrote. To be clear, what apparently put everyone at risk was the decision not to move forward with a series of license plate cameras.

County prosecutor Julia R. Bates wrote back to the sheriff in September 2025, stating that since he had already signed the contract from the original resolution, the rescission was "void."

Elgin Community College's experience is not quite the same—in that case it wasn't the police department, but Flock itself, that refused to take down the cameras. But it's still indicative of the widening rift between those who worry about our growing surveillance state and those who apparently see it as worth the tradeoffs.

The post An Illinois College Tried To Cancel Its Flock Contract. Flock Refused. appeared first on Reason Magazine.