Cass Sunstein

An op-ed by Cass Sunstein: President Donald Trump keeps claiming that the 2020 election was stolen from him, and was replete with fraud. He has spread the false assertion that voting machines made by Dominion Voting Systems Inc. deleted millions of pro-Trump votes and shifted hundreds of thousands to his victorious opponent, President-elect Joe Biden. Many Republicans agree that the presidency has been stolen. Polls show that about half of them think that Trump “rightfully won” the election, and a whopping 68 percent have concerns about a “rigged” process for counting votes. Various media outlets associated with the political right have fueled these beliefs. Social media are playing a major role. Wild ideas are circulating on Facebook, Twitter and elsewhere. In a recent interview, former President Barack Obama identified the contemporary media environment as “the single biggest threat to our democracy.” He added: “If we do not have the capacity to distinguish what’s true from what’s false, then by definition the marketplace of ideas doesn’t work. And by definition our democracy doesn’t work. We are entering into an epistemological crisis.” Obama’s claim calls to mind a brilliant 2002 essay, “The Crippled Epistemology of Extremism,” by the late political scientist Russell Hardin, who taught at the University of Chicago and New York University.

An op-ed by Cass Sunstein: President-elect Joe Biden just got an excellent suggestion about how to approach regulation of food safety, clean air, clean water, highway accidents and occupational health. It comes from a brief but illuminating passage in “The Promised Land,” the new memoir by his former boss, President Barack Obama: “Those of us who believed in the government’s ability to solve big problems had an obligation to pay attention to the real-world impact of our decisions and not just trust in the goodness of our intentions. If a proposed agency rule to preserve wetlands was going to lop acreage off a family farm, that agency should have to take the farmer’s losses into account before moving forward.” For that reason, Obama believed in cost-benefit analysis — not as a numerical straightjacket, but as a way to apply science and economics to measurement of the real-world impact of decisions by government agencies. Suppose, for example, that a proposed regulation from the Department of Transportation, requiring vehicles to be equipped with a new technology to reduce crashes, would cost $900 million. What would we get in return for that expenditure? How many lives would be saved? Would it be worthwhile? In 2009, Obama appointed me as administrator of the White House Office of Information and Regulatory Affairs, and he directed me to focus intensely on those questions. During my four years in government, Obama asked me to try to quantify both benefits and costs — and to make sure that for every regulation that I approved, the former would be higher than the latter.

An op-ed by Cass Sunstein:  Here are three popular myths about executive orders: They are a way to bypass Congress; They are an insult to the Constitution; They are new and a product of the imperial presidency. Even among serious and experienced observers, there is widespread belief in these falsehoods. That’s a big problem because President-elect Joe Biden is about to issue a bunch of executive orders. Citizens need to understand what they are and what they do. Executive orders often take the form of directives from the president to his subordinates. For example, Biden might tell the secretary of homeland security to adopt new immigration policies. Or he might direct his secretary of education to reverse President Donald Trump’s civil rights policies. Executive orders do not bypass Congress. Typically, they rely on statutes that Congress has already enacted. If Biden directs the Environmental Protection Agency to issue new regulations to reduce greenhouse-gas emissions, he will be relying on the Clean Air Act, which is already the law. In domains including education, occupational safety, Covid-19, clean water and civil rights, Congress has given plenty of power to executive agencies. Executive orders from the Biden administration would rely on the power that agencies already have. For that reason, they are hardly an insult to the Constitution. So long as what they order is within the bounds set by congressional enactments, they are a perfectly legitimate exercise of executive power — which is, after all, the power to execute the law.

An op-ed by Cass Sunstein: Facing urgent national challenges and probably a Republican-controlled Senate, President-elect Joe Biden will need to use executive actions to respond to problems such as Covid-19, economic recovery, racial equity and climate change. To understand how that works, it is essential to ask: What are executive actions, anyway? How do they happen? How fast, and how slow? The answers speak volumes about the operation of U.S. government, particularly but not only when Congress is gridlocked. Early in any new presidency, some of the most important initiatives begin with an executive order or presidential memorandum, by which the president issues a formal, public directive to those who work for him — typically members of his cabinet. For example, he might direct the secretary of Health and Human Services to take specific actions to control the pandemic, or he might order the Environmental Protection Agency to come up with a plan to reduce greenhouse-gas emissions from power plants. Orders of this kind get a lot of attention, but they merely start a process. It usually works like this: After a period of weeks or months, a department or agency comes up with a proposed rule, often consisting of hundreds of pages. The proposed rule outlines, and tries to justify, regulatory requirements that the agency plans to impose on the private sector, or perhaps on state and local governments. It might also contain alternatives — for example, more stringent and less stringent options.

An op-ed by Cass Sunstein: President-elect Joe Biden’s transition team has announced its four top priorities, and no surprise, climate change is among them. For that problem, the social cost of carbon is the straw that stirs the drink. It’s the most important number you’ve never heard of. That number is designed to reflect the monetary equivalent of the damage done by a ton of carbon emissions. For that reason, it is fundamental to decisions about the stringency of coming regulations from the executive branch — governing the fuel economy of cars and trucks, emissions limits for power plants, energy efficiency requirements for appliances and much more. If the social cost of carbon is set high, we’re going to see aggressive regulations, significantly denting the risk of climate change. If the social cost of carbon is set low — well, not so much. In 2009, the administration of President Barack Obama said that the social cost of carbon would be around $52 in 2020. In 2017, President Donald Trump and his appointees slashed that figure to somewhere between $1 and $6. The gap, surprisingly, wasn’t about politics, at least not in any simple sense.

An op-ed by Cass Sunstein: The current confusion and anxiety surrounding presidential vote-counting, with different states using different rules and procedures, make it natural to wonder: Wouldn’t it have been better to let the federal government oversee the process? The framers of the U.S. Constitution didn’t think so, for reasons of principle. Some of the foundations of their thinking can be found in the Federalist Papers, written mostly by Alexander Hamilton and James Madison (with a few by John Jay), among the greatest works in all of political science and the most important contemporaneous explanation of the framers’ thinking. Federalist No. 51, written by Madison, may be the best of the 86 essays, and it speaks, with great specificity, to the situation following this week’s national election. The least famous passage in that essay, and the most relevant today, is about one thing: federalism. It tells us a lot about how to think about vote-counting — and about the role of the president and Congress in that process. The essay is mostly a celebration of the system of checks and balances. As Madison put it, “Dependence on the people is, no doubt, the primary control on the government; but experience has taught mankind the necessity of auxiliary precautions.” The system of separated powers — Congress, the president, the judiciary — provides some of those precautions. But that was not nearly enough. Madison drew attention to “considerations particularly applicable to the federal system of America.” Ours is a “compound republic,” he wrote, in the sense that “the power surrendered by the people is first divided between two distinct governments.” There is the national government, and then there are the states, and this division creates essential security for “the rights of the people.” In important cases, “the different governments will control each other.” These are abstract ideas, but they bear directly on presidential elections, and they help explain the constitutional provisions that govern them.

An op-ed by Cass Sunstein: It’s Election Day, and there are already lawsuits challenging votes and voting procedures. Some of them are invoking the Supreme Court’s 2000 decision in Bush v. Gore, which effectively handed that year’s presidential election to George W. Bush. We should expect a lot more to come. Bush v. Gore is widely misunderstood. It rested on exceedingly narrow grounds. As the court put it, the key issue was “whether the use of standardless manual recounts violates the Equal Protection and Due Process Clauses.” The Florida Supreme Court had ordered a recount that would require votes to be counted in accordance with the “intent” of the voter. There’s nothing wrong with that. The problem was that Florida’s high court failed to lay down specific standards to ensure “equal application” of that principle. And indeed, the standards for accepting or rejecting ballots ended up varying widely, not only from one county to another, but even from one recount team to another. Back in 2000, many Florida voters used punch cards, and many of their votes produced only partly punched ballots, leaving those famous “hanging chads.” Should those ballots have counted? Different recount teams used different standards. That meant that whether a person’s vote would count depended on a kind of lottery — the specific recount team that was doing the counting. In the U.S. Supreme Court’s view, this was unequal treatment, and it violated the equal protection clause. At the same time, the court was careful to say that its ruling was limited to very rare and specific circumstances. “The recount process,” it said, “is inconsistent with the minimum procedures necessary to protect the fundamental right of each voter in the special instance of a statewide recount under the authority of a single state judicial officer.”

An op-ed by Cass Sunstein: For decades, U.S. government civil servants have had a degree of job security, in the sense that the president, and his political appointees, could not fire them merely because they were not sufficiently “loyal.” That would change under an executive order issued by President Donald Trump that is aimed at undermining the legal protection long given to many thousands of these career employees. On Jan. 19, 2021, they will apparently become closer to “at will” employees. If the president, or political appointees, want to fire them, they can. This is a horrible idea — more horrible even than it seems. A relatively independent civil service, protected against “at will” discharge, serves the national interest. I saw this close-up in 2009, when I joined the Barack Obama administration as administrator of the Office of Information and Regulatory Affairs, which oversees federal regulation in diverse areas that include clean air, clean water, food safety, homeland security, tobacco, health care, occupational safety, disability rights and transportation. OIRA has a staff of about 45 people, all civil servants. All of them had worked for George W. Bush until Jan. 21, 2009. In the blink of an eye, they were supposed to work for a new administration, with very different values and priorities and with a desire, in many cases, to reverse course as quickly as possible. I am sure that some of them thought that, in important areas, the Bush administration had it right, and that the newcomers were quite wrong. Who cared? Nothing got in the way of their professionalism, expertise, commitment to their jobs, and willingness to raise legitimate objections and concerns. In some cases, Cabinet heads were in a hurry to issue a new regulation — involving, say, air pollution, road safety or visas. Career staff knew that was probably not allowed under the law — and they were entirely unafraid to point that out.

An op-ed by Cass Sunstein: “The Untouchables,” the 1987 movie about gangsters and cops in Prohibition-era Chicago, was defined by these lines, spoken by police officer Jim Malone (played by Sean Connery) to his protégé, Eliot Ness (played by Kevin Costner): He pulls a knife, you pull a gun. He sends one of yours to the hospital, you send one of his to the morgue! That's the Chicago way. Connery’s character was speaking of Al Capone. But his lines capture something more universal. If you are in some kind of fight, your best response might be to up the ante. If your opponents know that’s what you’ll do, they might back off — in which case you win. And if they don’t back off, they’ll get hurt — in which case you also win. Has the Chicago way become the American way? You could make the argument, at least in Washington. No one should speak of literal violence. But in multiple domains, we have witnessed an escalating political arms race, transgressing longstanding norms. In 2010, Republican Senator Mitch McConnell clearly set the tone with this remarkable statement: “The single most important thing we want to achieve is for President Obama to be a one-term president.” With respect to Supreme Court appointments, Republican efforts culminated in the sprint to confirm Amy Coney Barrett — on the heels of the Senate leadership’s refusal even to allow a hearing for Judge Merrick Garland, nominated by President Barack Obama in 2016. Something much worse is suggested by President Donald Trump’s claim that Joe Biden, his opponent in the presidential race, “should've been locked up weeks ago” for unspecified crimes. If Biden is elected president, and if Democrats gain control of the Senate, both the White House and the Democratic leadership will face a crucial decision on what to do about the spiraling conflict between the parties. This decision would be important in any period. But it has special urgency in light of the public-health crisis and the serious economic downturn produced by the pandemic — in addition to Democrats’ and progressives’ high-priority issues, including climate change, health care, economic inequality and tax reform. There would be three options. In the abstract, none of them could be ruled out.

An op-ed by Cass Sunstein: A well-functioning democracy requires at least two parties, armed with different ideas and approaches. If Republicans lose the White House to Democratic nominee Joe Biden, what ideas and approaches should they champion? Many Republicans might want to go back to basics and recover some of the foundations of conservative thought, as laid out by such thinkers as Edmund Burke, Michael Oakeshott and Russell Kirk. They might not be eager to seek advice from anyone who is not a trusted conservative. But one of the most clarifying accounts of the conservative tradition comes from a remarkable book, “The Rhetoric of Reaction,” written by the economist Albert Hirschman in 1991. Hirschman himself was no conservative. His aim was to offer a catalog of standard rhetorical “moves” by those opposed to social reform. But Hirschman paid careful attention to centuries of conservative ideas, and he was aware of the power of those moves. He had too much integrity to deny that, some of the time, those who make them are entirely correct. If Biden is elected and tries to deliver on his campaign promises, those on the right would find Hirschman’s catalog useful. Hirschman divided the objections to progressive reforms into three different categories: perversity, futility and jeopardy. Of these, the most effective is the perversity argument. The basic claim is that many seemingly appealing reforms are self-defeating; they hurt the very people they are supposed to help. Societies are systems, and if you interfere with one part of them, you might not like what happens.

Traditional paternalists argue that they know what's good for you regardless of your own preferences. Prohibition advocates, for example, claimed that people must be forced to stay away from "Demon Rum" no matter how much they like to drink, or how carefully they weigh the costs and benefits of doing so. Over the last twenty years, however, intellectually sophisticated paternalists have largely shifted to a different rationale for restricting freedom of choice: "libertarian paternalism." Unlike old-fashioned paternalists, advocates of LP argue that choice must sometimes be restricted in order to enable people to better pursue their own "true" preferences—to do what they themselves would want to do, but for the pernicious influence of ignorance and cognitive biases. LP enthusiasts also contend that policymakers can simultaneously improve decision-making and minimize coercion by using carefully calibrated "nudges" rather than the crude blunderbuss tactics of "hard" paternalists. For their part, critics claim that the behaviorial research underlying LP isn't as robust as advocates assert, and that the new paternalistic policies have many of the same flaws as the old. Two recently published books suggest that there may be more room for common ground between defenders and critics of LP than previously assumed.  The first is Too Much Information: Understanding What You Don't Want to Know by Harvard law professor Cass Sunstein, one of the leading advocates of LP. The second, Escaping Paternalism: Rationality, Behavioral Economics, and Public Policy, by economists Mario Rizzo and Glen Whitman (RW), perhaps the leading academic critics of LP.  Sunstein and RW are longtime adversaries in the academic debate over paternalism. But these two books have so much in common that readers unfamiliar with the authors' history might assume they are all on the same side.

An op-ed by Cass Sunstein: We have heard a great deal about Judge Amy Coney Barrett’s approach to the law in the time leading up to her Supreme Court confirmation hearings this week. She believes in adhering to the text of the U.S. Constitution and of statutes enacted by Congress, and in following the “original meaning” of that text. In this respect, she follows her mentor, the late Justice Antonin Scalia. In her words: “… It was the content of Justice’s Scalia’s reasoning that shaped me. His judicial philosophy was straightforward: A judge must apply the law as written, not as the judge wishes it were.” She also explained: “Judges are not policymakers, and they must be resolute in setting aside any policy views they might hold." Fair enough. But what would you think about a judge who voted to strike down the Affordable Care Act, to strike down greenhouse-gas regulations, to strike down gun-control laws, and to strike down affirmative-action programs? Would you be quite clear that such a judge had been “resolute in setting aside any policy views they might hold”? What would you think if that very same judge voted to invalidate congressional restrictions on corporate speech, voted to forbid Congress from allowing citizens to bring suit in federal court, voted to strike down campaign-finance regulations, voted in such a way as to hand the 2000 presidential election to President George W. Bush — and consistently voted against constitutional protections of gays and lesbians? Would you be so sure that such a judge was simply “applying the law as written”? And what would you think if that same judge voted to strike down environmental regulations as interfering with property rights, voted to overrule Roe v. Wade, and ruled against a constitutional right to same-sex marriage?

An op-ed by Cass Sunstein: Have a look, if you would, at this image: Is it a duck, or is it a rabbit? Many people see it as a duck; many others see it as a rabbit. You might see it as one and then as the other, maybe with some effort. You might try simultaneously to see the image as both a duck and a rabbit, but that is not possible. At any moment, it is one or the other; it is not both. If you can easily see it as one and then the other, congratulations. You might be especially creative. The philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein used the duck-rabbit figure to explain that there is a difference between “seeing that” and “seeing as.” When you see a table, you are seeing “that” it is a table. It just is a table. But when you see clouds in the sky forming an image of a face, you are seeing the cloud formation “as” a face. In the latter case, your own perspective is crucial. If you see a duck, you might think that you are seeing “that.” But you are really seeing “as.” People often confuse the two. Why do some people see a duck, and why do others see a rabbit? A likely answer points to the importance of our preconceptions. For example, researchers have found that people of all ages, and particularly those between the ages of 2 and 10, were significantly more likely to see the image as a rabbit on Easter Sunday...The duck-rabbit image is both puzzling and fun. It also helps us understand current social divisions, including those in both law and politics. Supreme Court nominee Amy Coney Barrett is a “textualist,” committed to following the ordinary meaning of congressional enactments. But what is that meaning? Textualists insist that they see a duck. But it might also be a rabbit.

An article by Cass Sunstein: Some legal scholars, and some judges, are “originalists”; they believe that judges should be governed by the “original public meaning” of the Constitution’s text. The late Justice Antonin Scalia was an originalist. So is Justice Clarence Thomas. And so is the latest Supreme Court nominee, Judge Amy Coney Barrett. Debates about originalism have become complicated. But one point is simple: A committed originalist is going to have to allow the national government to discriminate on the basis of sex and race. Let’s spell that out. Judges who are committed to the “original public meaning” of the Constitution would almost certainly have to allow the federal government to say, “No women need apply.” They would probably have to conclude that if Congress wants federal agencies to pay men twice as much as women, the Constitution does not stand in the way. Originalist judges would find it exceedingly difficult not to rule that under the Constitution, Congress can segregate the schools in the District of Columbia. Originalist judges would probably have to conclude that if Congress wants to restrict African-Americans to lower-level positions within the federal government, the Constitution is not an obstacle. On originalist premises, a “whites only” policy would be constitutionally fine, insofar as we are speaking of the decisions of the U.S. government. Here’s why.

An article by Cass Sunstein:  Now that President Donald Trump has tested positive for Covid-19, the Department of Justice is almost certainly focusing on the 25th Amendment, which provides for the transfer of presidential authority to the vice president. No one who works for a sitting president wants to think about that amendment. But in any administration, worst-case scenarios get attention, and if the president is sick, the lawyers and the vice president have to be clear on what the 25th Amendment says and requires. The good news is that for most imaginable health outcomes associated with the virus, it is entirely clear. The less good news is that for some imaginable health outcomes, especially those associated with Covid-19, the 25th Amendment is ambiguous. It offers two different routes by which the transfer of power can occur. Section 3 says this: ‘Whenever the President transmits to the President pro tempore of the Senate and the Speaker of the House of Representatives his written declaration that he is unable to discharge the powers and duties of his office, and until he transmits to them a written declaration to the contrary, such powers and duties shall be discharged by the Vice President as Acting President.’ Section 4 says this: ‘Whenever the Vice President and a majority of either the principal officers of the executive departments or of such other body as Congress may by law provide, transmit to the President pro tempore of the Senate and the Speaker of the House of Representatives their written declaration that the President is unable to discharge the powers and duties of his office, the Vice President shall immediately assume the powers and duties of the office as Acting President.’ Under section 3, the president voluntarily transfers power to the vice president. Under section 4, the decision is made by the president’s own team – by majority vote.

An article by Cass Sunstein: Here is a paradox. It is pretty easy to predict the voting patterns of new Supreme Court justices. But it can be exceedingly difficult to predict the votes of justices in specific cases, which means that it can be difficult as well to predict how those cases are going to be decided. When President Bill Clinton appointed Stephen Breyer to the Supreme Court in 1994, those who knew Breyer’s work knew that his voting patterns would be moderately liberal — more centrist than those of progressive heroes Justices Thurgood Marshall and William Brennan, but to the left, for sure, of Justice Antonin Scalia. And when President George W. Bush appointed John Roberts as chief justice in 2005, it was clear, from Roberts’ record, that his voting patterns would be moderately conservative — distinctly more conservative than those of Breyer, but distinctly less so than those of Scalia. Something similar can be said about every Supreme Court nominee over the last half-century. At the same time, the court is capable of big surprises. For example, many experts did not predict that in 2015, it would rule in favor of same-sex marriage; that in 2020, it would strike down President Donald Trump’s decision to repeal President Barack Obama’s Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals program, designed to protect some unauthorized aliens from removal; or that in the same year, it would interpret the Civil Rights Act of 1964 to forbid discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation.

The U.S. Constitution’s separation of powers is a concession to man’s fallibility. Man tends to abuse power, so the Founders dispersed it. To preserve liberty and promote the public interest requires not just intentions but also institutions. Yet when we think of our institutions merely as safeguards, we sell them short...Justice Thomas and other judges and scholars have grown increasingly vocal in challenging the administrative state’s constitutional legitimacy. They question the statutes and judicial precedents that undergird the administrative state. In court-made doctrines of judicial “deference” to agencies’ legal interpretations, these jurists see abdication of the Constitution’s “judicial power.” In old statutes giving some agencies substantial independence from presidential control, they see violations of the Constitution’s grant of “executive power” to the president alone. And in old statutes empowering agencies to regulate with minimal limits, they see violations of the Constitution’s vesting of “legislative powers” in the Congress alone. All of these, they argue, undermine republican government and the rule of law. Cass R. Sunstein and Adrian Vermeule reject that position in “Law + Leviathan: Redeeming the Administrative State.” Mr. Sunstein was President Obama’s White House regulatory coordinator and is perhaps the leading regulatory thinker in Democratic policy-making circles. Mr. Vermeule is an intellectual leader for a rising generation of conservatives who demand a much more explicitly paternalistic and moralistic constitutionalism. While the two Harvard Law professors surely disagree on many things, they both believe that the administrative state doesn’t undermine the rule of law but exemplifies it. Drawing inspiration from “The Morality of Law” (1964), a major work of legal philosophy by Lon Fuller, they argue that “American administrative law has its own internal morality,” which “embraces many of the concerns and objections of those who are deeply skeptical of the administrative state” and which ultimately serves to “both empower and constrain the administrative state.”

An article by Cass Sunstein: Can you predict the performance of Supreme Court appointees? When President Donald Trump chooses a successor to the late Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, as he has said he will do by the end of this week, can he be confident that he will be happy with his choice? Many people think that the answer is “no.” In their view, judges often stun people, including the president who appoints them. That’s wrong. Over the last half-century, there have been exactly no surprises. Let’s divide justices into the following categories: very conservative, moderately conservative, centrist, moderately liberal and very liberal. The categories are crude, but they suggest how justices are likely to vote on important issues, such as affirmative action, environmental protection, gun rights, privacy, campaign finance, immigration and religious liberty. If you had studied the pre-appointment records of the 17 Supreme Court justices confirmed since 1971, you would have been surprised by the performance of none. Consider a few examples. Justice Anthony Kennedy, selected by President Ronald Reagan in 1987 after the Senate refused to confirm the very conservative Robert Bork, had an extensive record as a lower court judge. He was unmistakably conservative, but he also showed a degree of moderation, including sympathy for a constitutional right to privacy. His vote in 1991 to preserve Roe v. Wade, the 1973 opinion that established a constitutional right to abortion, was hardly shocking. A close reader of his lower court opinions would not have been amazed to learn that he turned out to be a pivotal vote in favor of protecting gays and lesbians. Justice David Souter, appointed by President George H.W. Bush in 1990, was a centrist. He is often seen as Exhibit A for the proposition that the voting records of Supreme Court choices are surprising. But for those who had read his opinions on the New Hampshire Supreme Court, his centrism was self-evident. In New Hampshire, he was a judge’s judge: cautious, nonideological, closely attentive to precedent.

An article by Cass Sunstein: In an interview Tuesday morning with Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi, CNBC host Jim Cramer addressed her as “Crazy Nancy.” Here’s the transcript: Jim Cramer: What deal can we have, Crazy Nancy?  I’m sorry, that was the President. I have such reverence for the office. I would never use that term, but it is – Speaker Pelosi: But you just did. [Laughter] But you just did. Cramer: Oh, come on, you know what I mean. You know what I mean. Pelosi: I know what you meant, I do. Cramer later apologized, saying, “I made a very stupid mistake.” President Donald Trump tweeted back: “Jim, you didn’t make a mistake. It’s true, and that’s why you said it. No pandering!” Taken by itself, the incident is merely revolting. But it reveals some larger truths. Let’s assume what is probably the case: Cramer had no conscious intention of addressing the speaker of the House as “Crazy Nancy.” But Trump’s ugly nickname stuck in his head, so that when he saw her face, that’s what came to mind. He used the term automatically and without reflection. There is a clue here about the immense power of ugly nicknames — and also of deception and lies. With respect to statements of fact, human beings show “truth bias”: people tend to think that what they hear is truthful, even when  explicitly told that it is false, or otherwise have excellent reason not to believe it. Indeed, research shows that a real-time disclosure that a statement is untrue may not be enough to stop us from remembering it as true, and potentially from repeating it later, with conviction. It’s hard to get some things out of our heads, even if they are accompanied with strong disclaimers. (Social media platforms, are you paying attention?)