The Weekly Wrap: The Nelk Boys are the new Walter Cronkite

You see that in the reach and resonance of figures like Rogan, Von, or the Barstool Sports crew. They’re by no means conventionally conservative. But they are heterodox and in a world dominated by left-wing ideas and institutions, that puts many of them notionally on the Right. One thing is clear, though: they’ve built up huge audiences. Rogan’s podcast, for instance, is estimated to draw as many as 11 million listeners per episode. That’s bigger than the major nightly news broadcasts in the U.S. He and these other podcasters are reaching the growing share of the population who now solely consume their news and information from non-traditional sources. They’re the Walter Cronkites of the disaffected and disconnected. Yet this week, Time Magazine released its list of the “100 Best Podcasts” of all time—meant to capture the most “innovative, influential, and informative” shows—and somehow left them all off the list. No Rogan. No Barstool. Not even a nod to the Nelk Boys. This blind spot reflects a deeper misunderstanding. Podcasting’s cultural significance lies in the absence of gatekeepers. These platforms are democratized, decentralized, and deeply responsive to audience preferences. This of course comes with tradeoffs. These podcasters aren’t area experts or trained journalists. The Nelk Boys’ interview with Netanyahu would have undoubtedly benefited from greater focus and less passivity. But it’s also true that often these amateur interviews tend to be far more authentic and interesting than the overly adversarial and formalistic exchanges with regular journalists. There’s almost seemingly an inverse relationship between credentialization and the quality of the conversation. People listen to Rogan not because he’s been anointed by an editorial board or fact-checked by journalistic bureaucrats. It’s because they like him, trust him, and find his conversations engaging and unique. These are the same reasons Rush Limbaugh dominated talk radio for decades. There’s a lot of handwringing on the Left these days about how they need their own Rogan. But it isn’t something that can be manufactured top-down. If anything, his success is a sign of the precise opposite. No number of executives or consultants could have anticipated that the former reality TV host who speaks for hours with idiosyncratic guests would become such a cultural phenomenon. His success lies in the fact that he meets the audience where it is on its terms. Until mainstream institutions reckon with that reality, they’ll continue to cede relevance—and audience share—to voices outside the gates. If the 2024 presidential campaign was any indication, the future of politics and culture will be mediated through these decentralized, informal, and unprofessional channels. That will come with trade-offs. But it also might be more reflective of our societies themselves. Maybe, for better or for worse, the Nelk Boys are the new Cronkite. When it comes to AI, it’s JD Vance making the most sense This week, Vice President JD Vance spoke at a public event hosted by the popular All-In Podcast, where he touched on one of the most important and under-discussed questions in contemporary politics: how to strike a balance AI pessimism and AI boosterism. His remarks resonated because they reflected a kind of maturity and nuance that’s badly missing from most political discussions about artificial intelligence. It’s something I’ve been grappling with myself in recent weeks. Vance kicked off his vice presidency with a major speech in Paris, in which he took aim at the “safetyism” of European AI policy—namely, its overcautious, risk-averse approach that seems to view every AI breakthrough as a threat. He argued instead for a pro-technology vision grounded in optimism about AI’s potential to create jobs, boost productivity, and revive economic dynamism. I had a similar reaction to the Trudeau government’s increasingly defensive and technocratic posture toward AI. It risked expanding the labyrinth of state regulation and turning Canada into an AI laggard. That’s in large part why I’ve found myself instinctively leaning toward a more bullish stance on AI. More generally, I’ve viewed the technology as a tool to break us out of the secular stagnation and a scarcity mindset that have bedeviled Canadian political economy. Recently, though, I’ve started to more seriously confront some of its potential risks and tradeoffs. This week, for instance, The Hub explored some of the thorny epistemological questions raised by AI’s growing role in shaping how we access knowledge and information—and what knowledge and information we actually receive. Vance’s comments were useful precisely because he spoke to the issue of overcorrecting. In responding to AI pessimism, we shouldn’t fall into AI Pollyannaishness. These are real tradeoffs, and Vance acknowledged them. He spoke candidly about risks ranging from consumer protection to AI-driven censorship. Yet, he still sees AI technology as a positive-sum proposition. In particular, he framed it as representative of a political economy that seeks growth through technology, development, and productivity rather than through cheap labour or economic arbitrage. His position isn’t technocratic or naive. It’s pragmatic and confident: embrace the upside, manage the downside. That still likely means a light regulatory touch—especially compared to Europe—but with eyes wide open. AI is the most consequential technology of our time. Its economic, cultural, and military implications will be profound. Of all the political leaders I’ve listened to, Vance is thinking the most clearly and seriously about what that actually means. Stop being so defensive, free marketers  Canadian free market types can often feel like they’re on the defensive. There are always new calls for government intervention in the economy that can understandably make it seem like the battle of ideas is being lost. But there are some signs of progress from an unlikely source. Donald Trump’s tariff threats have provoked a near-universal affirmation of free trade in Canadian society. Even some of the country’s most committed economic interventionists—including union leaders, progressive columnists, and policy intellectuals—have condemned the president’s protectionism and championed the need to restore bilateral free trade. They intuitively understand that trade barriers hurt Canadian workers, disrupt business investment, and imperil our export-led sectors. This moment of clarity underscores how deeply the logic of free trade has come to permeate the Canadian public imagination. What was once free-market heterodoxy is now conventional wisdom. Free trade and open markets are good. There are, of course, contradictions and inconsistencies in our own approach. There’s still far too much protectionism and other forms of statism in Canada’s economy. And some opportunists are now using Trump’s actions to argue for more Canadian-style protectionism. But let’s not miss the forest for the trees. The broad public and political reaction to Trump’s tariffs hasn’t been to join him in a repudiation of free trade. It’s been to defend the implicit virtues of open markets. That’s a significant intellectual win. At a time when many have written off neoliberalism, Canadians’ instinctive defence of free trade is a welcome sign of intellectual durability. Free marketers should take note. Maybe they should stop being so defensive.