plant lover, cookie monster, shoe fiend
20788 stories
·
19 followers

Global analysis of country-level factors associated with chatbot usage for health | Nature Health

1 Share

Global analysis of country-level factors associated with chatbot usage for health

Health queries are among the most common uses of consumer conversational artificial intelligence (AI), yet little is known about how this usage varies across countries and what characteristics are associated with it. Here we analysed 1.7 million de-identified health-related conversations from Microsoft Copilot across 109 countries and regions, examining two dimensions: intensity (the share of all conversations that are health-related) and composition (the distribution across eight user-intent categories). We find that these dimensions have largely non-overlapping predictors. A consistent development gradient is associated with a shift in the query mix from broad health informational intents to specific clinical and system-navigation intents in wealthier, older-population countries, while lower population-level confidence in hospitals was the strongest predictor of health conversation intensity (r = −0.41, P < 0.001), though this association is more conditional on specification. These patterns suggest that conversational AI usage is associated with the structure and perceived quality of national health ecosystems. Moreover, these findings present additional perspectives as to how conversational AI systems can be leveraged to better meet specific population needs and augment their health and wellbeing.

As consumer-facing applications of conversational artificial intelligence (AI) become routine sources of information, health information seeking has emerged as a common personal use case1. Recent work indicates people increasingly use general purpose conversational AI to ask about symptoms, medications, medical procedures and health system navigation2,3. Despite these findings, and while the impacts of AI have been researched broadly4, little is known about how usage differs across countries and which country-level characteristics are associated with it.

Cross-country studies undertaken before the popularization of conversational AI show that online health information seeking varies with demographics, health system engagement and national context5. Broadly, health information-seeking behaviours differ based upon an evolving combination of national (digital infrastructure and health-system structures) and individual (socio-economic status as well as attitudes towards medical institutions and technology) factors6,7. In particular, trust in healthcare systems varies across countries, even after accounting for individual-level demographics8. This cross-country variation in institutional trust may extend to the willingness of populations to engage with new health information sources. A recent 30-country survey shows that trust in healthcare providers generally exceeds trust in government or family and friends and that acceptance of AI-generated health content differs widely: exceeding 75% in China, India, Pakistan and Indonesia while falling below 50% in countries including Canada, the UK, Sweden, Japan and Russia9,10.

Emerging data from AI developers indicates that health-related conversational AI use is a notable component of affective and support-seeking interactions11,12. Cross-country differences are visible in volume and categories of use, with work from Anthropic suggesting that users in the USA are overrepresented in medical guidance requests compared with the global average13. Similarly, conversational AI usage for health-related queries remains heavily concentrated in high-income countries, with low-income countries accounting for less than 1% of global GPT traffic14, and recent survey evidence suggests substantial cross-country gaps in general AI adoption15,16.

Moreover, the quality of AI-generated medical recommendations varies by user location17. This pattern aligns with wider health-seeking population surveys, in which lower health system trust and cost barriers are associated with increased self-directed information-seeking behaviour6,18,19,20. Taken together, these suggest that conversational AI use for health queries is potentially associated with access to technology and local health-systems features. However, the relative weight of these factors and the quantity and content of AI conversations for health has not been analysed at a cross-country level.

In this Article, we examine how country/region and population-level characteristics are associated with the intensity and characteristics of conversational AI system use for health queries and whether cross-country patterns align with prior literature on health information seeking before widespread adoption of conversational AI. We examine usage across two dimensions. The first is intensity, defined as the share of all AI conversations in a country or region that are health-related. The second is composition, defined as the distribution of health conversations across eight user-intent categories ranging from generic informational queries, symptom understanding, to health system-navigation tasks.

Our analysis is based on 1.7 million health-related conversations from consumer Microsoft Copilot, collected between January and March 2026 from across 109 countries and regions (Fig. 1). We aggregate these conversations to the country/region level and regress health conversation intensity and eight intent shares on 14 country-level predictors drawn from six public sources, which are entered in three hierarchical blocks (‘development and demographics’, ‘health system’ and ‘Institutional and trust’). The design is cross-sectional, observational and ecological (that is, all variables are measured at the country/region level). As such, all reported associations should be interpreted as conditional correlations rather than causal effects or individual-level relationships. In other words, they describe countries and regions, not the individuals within them.

Fig. 1: Sample coverage and AI health usage intensity across 109 countries/regions.

a, Countries/regions included in the sample, coloured by World Bank income group29. b, Health conversation intensity, defined as the share of all Copilot conversations that are health-related in each country/region. Each tile represents one country/region (N = 109, with 105 displayed on the grid). Four territories are absent from the tile layout: Hong Kong SAR, Puerto Rico, State of Palestine and Taiwan. Ethiopia and Venezuela lack a current World Bank income classification. Tile grid layout based on the geofacet R package38.

We find that intensity and composition have largely non-overlapping predictors. Low confidence in hospitals is the strongest predictor of intensity (β = − 0.49, P < 0.05) but does not predict intent composition (that is, what these conversations are about). Instead, health system structure predicts composition: countries with higher universal health coverage have substantially more of their health conversations about medical paperwork tasks (β = 0.91, P < 0.001) and a development gradient is associated with a shift in the query mix from broad informational queries towards specific navigational and symptom-related ones as gross domestic product (GDP) and population age increase.

We contribute to the literature in two ways. First, while other literature15 has documented cross-country variation in firm- and worker-level AI adoption, we provide a large-scale cross-country analysis of conversational AI usage for health-related queries, covering 109 countries/regions and 1.7 million conversations. Prior work on this has focused on classification of consumer conversations within the USA only, with emerging descriptive summaries of health queries but not how country-level characteristics are associated with population-level patterns of AI health usage21. Second, we document that the relationship between access to healthcare services and the use of conversational AI systems for health-related topics is reflected in two distinct dimensions: institutional trust predicts the country-level intensity of conversational AI use for health, while access to services predicts its composition.

We organize our results around the two dependent variables: (1) the share of AI conversations devoted to health (intensity, Fig. 1b) and (2) the distribution of those conversations across intent categories (composition). For each, we present a regression model identifying which of the country-level characteristics predict it. Table 1 reports hierarchical regressions for intensity (N = 93), and Table 2 reports the corresponding models for eight intent shares. Robustness checks using alternative merge methods (Supplementary Tables 56), false discovery rate (FDR)-corrected P values (Supplementary Table 7), variance inflation factors (Supplementary Appendix section 3), and influential observation diagnostics (Supplementary Fig. 1) appear in the Supplementary Information. Across these checks, the composition associations are shown to be more robust, surviving FDR correction and showing robust effects across most alternative merge methods. Conversely, the intensity–trust association meets our robustness criteria but is more sensitive to specification. As such, the former composition result is best understood as being supported by strong, and the latter by moderate, evidence.

Table 1 OLS regression predicting health conversation intensity
Table 2 Hierarchical OLS regressions predicting eight health conversation intent shares

Health conversation intensity

Confidence in hospitals shows the strongest bivariate correlation with health conversation intensity (r = −0.41, 95% confidence interval (CI) −0.56 to −0.23, N = 100, P < 0.001; Supplementary Table 4): countries where a smaller share of the population reports confidence in hospitals have a larger share of their AI conversations that are health-related. Further, mobile subscriptions (r = −0.29, 95% CI −0.46 to −0.11, N = 108, P = 0.002) and AI readiness (r = −0.27, 95% CI −0.43 to −0.08, N = 107, P = 0.005) are also negatively associated with intensity, while urban population (r = 0.20, 95% CI 0.01 to 0.37, N = 108, P = 0.039), physicians per 1,000 people (r = 0.25, 95% CI 0.06 to 0.42, N = 103, P = 0.011) and government effectiveness (r = −0.23, 95% CI −0.40 to −0.04, N = 108, P = 0.017) also cross the significance threshold. On the other hand, most development and health system indicators, including GDP, internet users and the WHO Universal Health Coverage (UHC) index, show near-zero correlations with intensity. This pattern suggests that general economic development alone does not predict consumer health AI usage.

Our hierarchical regression model outlined in the ‘Empirical strategy’ section in the Methods explains roughly half the cross-country variation in intensity (R2 = 0.532, adjusted R2 = 0.441; Table 1). Overall, institutional and trust characteristics, not broader development indicators, contribute the most additional explanatory power beyond baseline demographics: block 1 (development and demographics) accounts for an R2 of 0.281, though note that no individual predictor reaches significance under HC3 standard errors. Adding block 2 (health system) increases R2 by 0.109, with government health expenditure as a share of GDP reaching significance in the full model (β = 0.46, 95% CI 0.07 to 0.86, z = 2.28, P = 0.022). Lastly, block 3 (institutional and trust) adds the largest increment over block 1 (ΔR2 = 0.141). Overall, our main finding is that confidence in hospitals is the strongest individual predictor in the full model (β = −0.49, 95% CI −0.89 to −0.10, z = −2.43, P = 0.015; P < 0.001 under ordinary least squares (OLS) standard errors).

The negative association between confidence in hospitals and conversational AI usage for health-related intent suggests that countries with lower institutional trust show higher AI health usage. Both confidence in hospitals and government health expenditure are significant in two of the four merge specifications (Supplementary Table 5), with the direction and approximate magnitude of both coefficients remaining stable across all four methods. Substituting the Wellcome Global Monitor 2020 confidence measure for the 2018 measure yields a coefficient in the same direction (Supplementary Appendix section 10), though it is not statistically significant.

Figure 2 shows the country-level pattern: countries where fewer people express confidence in hospitals (for example, Iraq, Iran, Algeria and Libya) cluster at the high end of AI health usage, while countries with high confidence (for example, India, Singapore, Malaysia and Thailand) cluster at the low end. In practical terms, a one-standard-deviation decrease in confidence in hospitals (roughly 13 percentage points) is associated with approximately a 1 percentage point increase in health conversation intensity, with point estimates ranging from −0.18 to −0.49 across the four merge specifications.

Fig. 2: Country-level relationships for health conversation intensity and intent composition.

a, Health conversation intensity, the share of all Copilot conversations that are health-related, plotted against confidence in hospitals, the share of respondents reporting confidence in hospitals in their country6 (N = 100; Pearson r = −0.41, 95% CI −0.56 to −0.23, P < 0.001). b, Selected bivariate relationships between country-level predictors (from Table 2) and intent shares, with Pearson r and N reported. Top: the development gradient, plotting GDP per capita (current international dollars at purchasing power parity (PPP), log scale) against health information and education (i), research and academic support (ii) and healthcare navigation (iii) are shown. Bottom: three intents paired with their strongest non-GDP bivariate correlate: physicians per 1,000 with fitness and lifestyle (iv), social protection coverage with emotional wellbeing (v) and population 65+ with healthcare navigation (vi). Each point represents one country/region, labelled by ISO 3166-1 alpha-3 code; the dashed lines show OLS fits. All reported correlations are Pearson correlations, and all corresponding significance tests are two-sided. Pairwise N ranges from 103 to 108 depending on data availability. Every correlation shown is significant at ***P < 0.001.

Intent composition

Hospital confidence does not reach significance for any of the eight individual intent shares (Table 2). Rather, intent composition is associated primarily with development and health system characteristics.

The bivariate correlations show a consistent development gradient across intents (Supplementary Table 4). Health information and education and research and academic support, the two largest categories, correlate negatively with most development indicators, with the strongest associations in the range of r = −0.50 to −0.65 (P < 0.001). Symptom questions, fitness and lifestyle, and healthcare navigation display the reverse pattern, with the strongest positive correlations reaching r = 0.46 to 0.75 (P < 0.001). The strongest individual associations are internet users with fitness (r = 0.75, 95% CI 0.66 to 0.83, N = 106, P < 0.001), UHC index with Fitness (r = 0.74, 95% CI 0.64 to 0.82, N = 106, P < 0.001) and AI readiness with healthcare navigation (r = 0.72, 95% CI 0.61 to 0.80, N = 107, P < 0.001). Medical paperwork is the exception, with near-zero correlations with most development indicators (population 65+: r = 0.01, internet users: r = 0.05). This pattern suggests medical paperwork intent is associated with a different set of country characteristics.

The hierarchical regressions are consistent with these findings (Table 2 and Fig. 3). Model fit ranges from adjusted R2 = 0.337 for medical paperwork to 0.760 for healthcare navigation, with block 1 (development and demographics) accounting for the explained variance in six of the eight intents, with GDP (log) and population 65+ as the most consistently significant predictors. Healthcare navigation is the best-predicted intent, with four predictors reaching PFDR < 0.05: GDP (log) (β = 0.66, 95% CI 0.30 to 1.02, z = 3.61, P < 0.001, PFDR < 0.01), population 65+ (β = 0.69, 95% CI 0.39 to 1.00, z = 4.45, P < 0.001, PFDR < 0.001), AI readiness (β = 0.44, 95% CI 0.18 to 0.69, z = 3.34, P < 0.001, PFDR < 0.01) and the quadratic GDP term (β = 0.36, 95% CI 0.11 to 0.61, z = 2.80, P = 0.005, PFDR < 0.05).

Fig. 3: Standardized coefficient plot for the eight intent share regressions.

N = 93, corresponding to Table 2. Points show standardized OLS coefficients (β), the point estimate and measure of centre, for all 15 predictors, and the horizontal whiskers show 95% CIs based on HC3 robust standard errors. Predictors are grouped by block and ordered consistently across all tables. Within each predictor row, the eight markers denote the eight intent-share outcomes, with the legend outlining colour and shape. Filled markers denote P < 0.05 and open markers P ≥ 0.05.

In raw terms, for a country with average income, a one-standard-deviation increase in log GDP is associated with a 0.7 percentage point increase in the Healthcare navigation share, roughly a 30% increase relative to the sample mean of 2.3%. The other two robust predictors of this intent are comparable in magnitude: a one-standard-deviation increase in the population aged 65+ (about 8 percentage points) corresponds to a 0.7 percentage point higher share (about 32% of the mean) and a one-standard-deviation increase in AI readiness (about 17 points on the 0–100 score) to a 0.5 percentage point higher share (about 20%). GDP (log) and population 65+ also predict higher symptom questions (β = 0.90, 95% CI 0.27 to 1.53, z = 2.81, P = 0.005, PFDR < 0.05 and β = 0.55, 95% CI 0.16 to 0.94, z = 2.78, P = 0.005, PFDR < 0.05, respectively) and lower research and academic shares (population 65+: β = −0.43, 95% CI −0.75 to −0.10, z = −2.59, P = 0.010, PFDR < 0.05). The picture that emerges from Table 2 is a gradient from broad health literacy queries in lower-income, younger-population countries towards specific, personal health management queries in higher-income, older-population countries. Health information and education, the largest category at 43% of health conversations, is the notable exception to this pattern of clear individual predictors. Block 1 explains half its variance (R2 = 0.510), yet no single predictor reaches significance under HC3 standard errors, suggesting that many correlated development indicators share explanatory power without any one dominating.

Medical paperwork is the one intent where the development gradient breaks down. Block 1 explains the least variance for this intent (R2 = 0.113), and block 2 (Health system) adds the largest increment of any intent (ΔR2 = 0.247). The UHC index is the single largest coefficient in our main analysis (β = 0.91, 95% CI 0.46 to 1.37, z = 3.92, P < 0.001, PFDR < 0.001) and health expenditure per capita is also positively associated in the primary specification (β = 0.33, 95% CI 0.10 to 0.56, z = 2.80, P = 0.005, PFDR < 0.05), though this coefficient does not reach significance under the alternative merge methods.

In practical terms, a one-standard-deviation increase in UHC index (roughly 14 index points) is associated with a 4.0 percentage point increase in the medical paperwork share, over half the sample mean of 7.0%. This pattern is consistent with a difference in where the relative unmet needs of individuals lie, that is, where more structured health systems leave users with higher administrative burden and medical paperwork. On the other hand, trust in doctors/nurses points the other way, where lower trust is associated with more paperwork-related queries (β = −0.41, 95% CI −0.73 to −0.10, z = −2.55, P = 0.011, PFDR > 0.05), but this association is not robust enough to be conclusive.

Health expenditure per capita has a different role for other intents. Countries with higher health spending have a smaller share of health conversations about fitness and lifestyle (β = −0.31, 95% CI −0.45 to −0.16, z = −4.15, P < 0.001, PFDR < 0.001) and symptom questions (β = −0.40, 95% CI −0.74 to −0.06, z = −2.28, P = 0.023, PFDR > 0.05). This negative association is consistent with better-funded primary care being associated with lower use of AI for symptom-checking and lifestyle advice. GDP (log) is also positively associated with fitness and lifestyle (β = 0.53, 95% CI 0.13 to 0.92, z = 2.59, P = 0.010, PFDR < 0.05), which indicates that the positive development gradient and the negative health expenditure association operate simultaneously.

Emotional wellbeing is one of the few intents for which block 3 (institutional and trust) contributes the most incremental variance (ΔR2 = 0.073, compared with 0.015 for block 2). Social protection coverage is its strongest bivariate correlate (r = 0.62, 95% CI 0.49 to 0.73, N = 104, P < 0.001), but the coefficient does not reach significance in the full model. The UHC index is negatively associated (β = −0.55, 95% CI −1.03 to −0.07, z = −2.25, P = 0.025, PFDR > 0.05). These patterns are suggestive but not robust enough to be conclusive. Figure 2 illustrates these two patterns. Figure 2b(i)(iii) shows the development gradient, where higher GDP is associated with a gradient from broad informational queries to specific navigational ones. Figure 2b(iv)(vi) shows that non-GDP predictors, including physician density, social protection and population age, track distinct intent categories.

Our study shows that institutional trust and health system structure predict different dimensions of conversational AI use for health, and the two sets of predictors are largely non-overlapping. Confidence in hospitals predicts how intensively AI is used for health at the country level but has little bearing on intent composition. The composition of queries is instead predicted by development indicators and health system structure, variables that have comparatively little role in overall volume. This suggests that aggregate usage measures may obscure meaningfully distinct phenomena. These dimensions also differ in the relative levels of evidence that support them. We treat the composition result, which survives FDR correction and holds across most alternative merge methods, as being supported by strong evidence. The intensity result, on the other hand, clears our robustness bar and is directionally stable across all other analyses but is nonetheless more sensitive to specification, which is why we treat it as being supported by moderate evidence.

The trust–intensity relationship we observe is consistent with a broader country-level pattern where lower institutional confidence is associated with greater use of conversational AI as an alternative source of health information, such as offline hospital bypass22. Because our data are aggregated to the country level, this describes countries and not individuals and does not establish that the same people who distrust hospitals are those using AI. Countries in which fewer people express confidence in hospitals use conversational AI tools more intensively for health queries, even when controlled for other country-specific characteristics. The intensity regression identifies confidence in hospitals as the strongest bivariate correlate (r = −0.41, P < 0.001) and the strongest predictor in the full model, with a standardized coefficient larger in magnitude than any other predictor (β = −0.49, P < 0.05). In practical terms, a one-standard-deviation decrease in confidence in hospitals (roughly 13 percentage points) is associated with approximately a 1 percentage point increase in health conversation intensity, an 11% increase relative to the sample mean of 8.7%. The coefficient remains negative across all four merge specifications, with the point estimate ranging from −0.18 to −0.49, and no single country drives the result in the leave-one-out analysis.

Confidence in hospitals does not, however, predict what people ask AI about, as it fails to reach significance for any of the eight individual intent shares. The main pattern is thus solely related to the overall volume of health-related AI usage rather than in specific intents. Trust in doctors and nurses is not significant for intensity (β = 0.31, not significant). This distinction may suggest that the pattern operates at the level of institutional confidence rather than interpersonal trust in health professionals, though the ecological design means we cannot confirm that the same individuals who distrust hospitals are the ones using AI for health. More broadly, negative healthcare experiences and medical mistrust have been associated with greater intentions to seek health information online, particularly among individuals with chronic conditions23.

The composition of AI health queries follows a different logic. Across most intent categories, we observe a development gradient, where in lower-income countries with younger populations, health conversations are concentrated in broad informational categories (health information and education, research and academic support), which together account for over 55% of health queries. In countries with higher GDP and older populations, the share of these broad categories is lower and specific health management queries (symptom questions and healthcare navigation) are more common. Healthcare navigation is the best-predicted intent in our analysis (adjusted R2 = 0.760), with GDP, population 65+ and AI readiness all reaching significance, even after FDR correction. This pattern is consistent with AI use, in more developed countries, more for tasks that presuppose existing engagement with a health system, such as understanding symptoms before a visit or navigating referral pathways, rather than for general health literacy.

Medical paperwork is the exception, as health system variables provide the dominant explanatory power and not the development gradient, with UHC showing one of the largest associations in our analysis (β = 0.91, P < 0.001). The pattern suggests that the relative unmet need surrounding administrative demands of structured health systems exceeds other clinical needs. The scale of such administrative work is substantial in many countries such as the USA, where 73% of insured adults perform at least one healthcare administrative task annually24.

Countries with structured health systems therefore appear to use AI primarily as a tool for navigating the bureaucratic layer those services create. However, other factors might also contribute to greater patient use of AI for medical paperwork queries, such as increased digital integration of healthcare services or greater patient engagement with the available systems. These need not reflect a higher administrative burden. Instead, they may instead indicate a setting in which patients are better equipped to navigate a structured healthcare system, and our data cannot distinguish between these accounts.

An interpretive concern with the intent-level regressions is that several categories are behaviourally heterogeneous: the same query type can reflect complementarity depending on the user’s orientation towards the formal health system or a different type of pattern. Symptom questions, for example, could index a user self-diagnosing in lieu of a clinician they cannot access. Emotional wellbeing queries could reflect a response to unmet mental health needs or between-session support. Because the intent label does not distinguish these orientations, a regression of any single dual-use intent share on macro indicators mixes opposing mechanisms and produces coefficients that are difficult to interpret cleanly.

To address this, we construct a complementarity ratio of system-dependent intents (medical paperwork and healthcare navigation) to dual-use intents (symptom questions and emotional wellbeing). See Supplementary Appendix section 9 for full details. Regressing the log-transformed ratio on the same 15 predictors, we find that UHC index is the strongest predictor (β = 0.88, P < 0.001) and confidence in hospitals is positively associated (β = 0.38, P < 0.01), indicating that countries with more structured health systems and higher institutional trust have AI health profiles oriented more towards system-dependent use. These associations hold across three alternative specifications of the ratio.

Taken together, these patterns suggest that AI health usage is associated with the structure and effectiveness of a country’s health system. Institutional trust, health system structure and economic development predict largely non-overlapping dimensions and the fact that they predict different dimensions of AI health use suggests that aggregate measures of usage would obscure meaningful variation in how AI is used for health across different country contexts.

Several features of our design constrain interpretation. The cross-sectional nature of the data precludes causal inference: the association between confidence in hospitals and AI health usage could reflect reverse causality, and unobserved country-level factors such as cultural attitudes towards technology, disease burden and media environment could confound any of the reported associations. Relatedly, our design allows us to observe conversational AI usage and does not directly measure unmet need, barriers to care or other health outcomes. Moreover, with 15 predictors estimated on our set of 93 countries and regions and with several intercorrelated indicators, individual coefficients should be interpreted cautiously. We thus base our conclusions on the associations that remain robust across our set of robustness checks and diagnostics, rather than on every significant coefficient.

Our data capture usage of a single AI platform, Microsoft Copilot, whose users may not be representative of national populations. Within any one country, users who turn to Copilot for health may differ systematically from the wider public on age, education, occupation, income, digital literacy, attitudes towards technology and other related topics. Because our data are fully de-identified, we cannot test for this and reweight it towards the general population. In addition, the health conversation intensity measure is a share of Copilot conversations, not a population-level rate, such that countries with high intensity may simply have user bases that are more health-oriented. Relatedly, because the denominator is the total volume of Copilot conversations, intensity might be mechanically lower in countries where Copilot usage tends to skew towards non-health uses such as work and coding, and this skew might be more pronounced in wealthier and information-heavy economies. Including GDP, internet penetration and AI readiness allows us to partially address this, as they proxy for cross-country differences driving the work/coding usage mix, though within-country selection and residual denominator effects may remain. Because our composition measures are shares within health conversations, they are less sensitive to the overall size and selection of the user base than absolute volumes. This general selection concern is partially mitigated by the 1,000-conversation threshold, but cannot be eliminated without individual-level analysis.

The more serious concern is differential selection, where the degree of selection may vary alongside the very characteristics we study. For example, if the Copilot user base is more or less socioeconomically privileged in lower-income countries, this may result in a bias of the cross-country associations. Thus, we interpret our results as primarily patterns among Copilot users at the country level and caution against extrapolating them to entire populations. More broadly, the ecological design means that country-level associations should not be interpreted as individual-level relationships: a country with low hospital confidence and high AI health usage does not imply that the individuals who distrust hospitals are those turning to AI. Within-country variation in both trust and AI access is probably substantial.

Our intent classification relies on an automated taxonomy with clinician-validated accuracy of 84% accuracy on the English-language dataset2, introducing measurement error that could attenuate associations or, if misclassification correlates with country characteristics, create spurious patterns. Because privacy constraints prevented analysis of the original-language logs, we could not verify whether classifier accuracy varies across individual countries. Overall, we do not believe this materially changes the core findings from our study given the increasingly performant multilingual capabilities of large language model (LLMs) and our focus on the largest and most robust country-level differences for our main findings. In addition, because any such classification concern would operate via the source language, which is correlated with development indicators, our set of controls (for example, GDP, internet penetration and AI readiness) is likely to absorb a substantial part of it.

Moreover, two of our key predictors, confidence in hospitals and trust in doctors/nurses, come from the 2018 Wellcome Global Monitor, creating an 8-year gap with our 2026 Copilot data. This raises the question of whether our associations accurately reflect current levels of trust. Several pieces of evidence suggest that this gap is less problematic than it may seem. First, we find that cross-country trust is highly stable: the 2018 and 2020 Wellcome measures correlate at r = 0.72, a period including the coronavirus disease 2019 pandemic year of 2020. We also find that the 2018 measure correlates at r = 0.63 with an independent World Values Survey measure of confidence in the health system (see Supplementary Appendix section 10 for these data and additional robustness analyses). Institutional trust thus behaves akin to a relatively durable national characteristic, so the 2018 measure remains a reasonable proxy for the construct in 2026. Moreover, if the measure was a noisy proxy, one would expect the classical measurement error to attenuate the coefficient towards zero, rendering our estimates potentially conservative. However, we cannot fully rule out the possibility that the pandemic has altered trust differentially in a way that is correlated with AI health usage, and we therefore present the trust–intensity association as conditional on this temporal caveat. The pre-AI timing of these measures additionally rules out reverse causation running from AI adoption to the trust measure.

Our findings carry implications along two main dimensions: the relationship between AI and use and formal health system engagement and the societal consequences of that relationship.

If the association between lower hospital confidence and higher consumer conversational AI health usage reflects individual-level behaviour, conversational AI tools may reduce contact with aspects of formal care in low-trust environments, with potential downstream consequences for health screening and preventative interventions typically delivered through routine health system contact. Conversely, conversational AI may function as a complementary layer that supports engagement with formal health systems—for example, bridging access gaps, improving health literacy, supporting user self-advocacy and helping users navigate care pathways that they might otherwise avoid. Our data cannot directly distinguish between these two directions, but the complementarity ratio analysis shows that countries with more structured health systems and higher institutional trust have AI health profiles oriented more towards system-dependent use, consistent with AI functioning as a complement rather than a substitute.

A distributional concern also arises. Prior work suggests that marginalized groups are both more likely to distrust health systems and more vulnerable to the consequences of AI errors, having fewer safety nets and less opportunity to verify clinical recommendations14,17. Consumer medical AI could therefore assist in narrowing inequities in access while potentially widening the risks of inequities in outcome, making equity a design consideration for consumer health AI rather than a post hoc issue. Safety, cultural competence and appropriate handoff to human care must be considered and engineered robustly in system design to avoid replicating pre-existing patterns of health disparities.

More broadly, conversational AI data may have value as an instrument for public health monitoring. Offering a vantage point outside of health systems, it captures insights which would otherwise be missed by traditional methods such as primary care data, or hospital attendance statistics25,26. If AI health usage correlates with perceived gaps in formal care, as our findings suggest, the volume and character of health-related conversations may be a direct signal of residual unmet need2, one whose population-level interpretation will strengthen as adoption broadens. Specifically, intensity may signal the volume of residual unmet need, while intent composition signals its type, and because the two have largely non-overlapping country-level predictors, they may carry distinct information and could also be tracked separately, continuously and at lower latency than survey instruments. Realizing this potential will require longitudinal data tracking countries as AI adoption matures, replication across platforms beyond Microsoft Copilot and linkage to health outcome measures such as screening rates or emergency department visits.

All data processing occurred within Microsoft-controlled systems. This data analysis study was approved by the Microsoft Research institutional ethics review board (ERP 11041). All data were collected and used in accordance with the Microsoft Privacy Statement.

Our sample comprises 1.7 million health-related conversations drawn from a larger sample of consumer Microsoft Copilot conversations, collected between January and March 2026 across 109 countries and regions. This sample excludes all enterprise, educational and commercial accounts. The sampled conversations represent a subset of total Copilot usage during this period, not the full population of conversations. As a cut-off, we include all countries with at least 1,000 health conversations over the 3-month period. All country and region names displayed in this paper follow ISO 3166-1 conventions (Supplementary Table 1). Figure 1a shows the geographic and income-group coverage of the sample, which spans all World Bank income categories and all major world regions.

Our first dependent variable is health conversation intensity, defined as the share of all Copilot conversations in a country that are health-related

$${I}_{i}=\frac{{H}_{i}}{{T}_{i}}\times 100$$

where Hi is the number of health-related conversations, and Ti is the total number of Copilot conversations in country i within the sample. All conversation-level data are aggregated to the country/region level before analysis; no individual- or conversation-level modelling is performed. Figure 1b displays this measure across countries. This intensity score ranges from 4.4% to 15.35 (mean of 8.7%, median of 8.6%), suggesting that health queries constitute a nontrivial share of overall Copilot usage across countries.

For our second dependent variable, we classify each health conversation into one of eight intent categories derived from the 12-category taxonomy developed by Costa-Gomes et al.2, who validated their classifier against clinician annotations at 84% exact-match accuracy. The eight categories range from broad informational queries (health information and education, research and academic support) to specific actionable ones (symptom questions and healthcare navigation). Supplementary Table 2 provides full definitions of all intents used in this study. We retain the eight largest categories, which together account for over 95% of all health conversations. The four excluded categories (coverage and benefits, digital tools and fitness apps, other health/fitness intent, not health) thus account for less than 5% of all queries. We operationalize this second dependent variable as the intent profile of each country, defined as the share of health conversations falling into each of the eight categories.

All Copilot data was de-identified before analysis through the two-stage, privacy-preserving pipeline described previously2, where raw transcripts are first scrubbed of personally identifiable information, then summarized by a large language model into short English-language descriptions that capture topic and intent without reproducing the user’s original words. All subsequent analysis operates on these summaries. Although the data originates in many different countries and languages and the LLM-based classifier may be differentially capable across them, LLMs have shown remarkable capabilities of performing at near-equal levels across many languages, which reduces the possibility of bias27. The list of languages and countries supported in Copilot is available online28.

No human researcher accessed raw conversation content at any point, and no attempts were made to re-identify users or infer individual health status. Moreover, our analysis operates exclusively at the country-level, where all conversation-level data are aggregated to a single set of intensity and intent variables at the country-level.

Secondary data

We merge our set of primary data with 14 country-level indicators from six public sources to characterize each country’s development, health system characteristics and institutional environment. We selected indicators on two criteria: (1) theoretical relevance to cross-country variation in health information-seeking behaviour and (2) broad data availability across the 109 countries/regions in our sample (Supplementary Table 3). Specifically, these variables are drawn from the World Bank World Development Indicators29, the WHO Global Health Observatory30, the Wellcome Global Monitor6, the Oxford Insights Government AI Readiness Index31, the World Bank Worldwide Governance Indicators32,33 and the ILO Social Protection database34.

We organize these variables into three conceptual blocks: block 1 (development and demographics) captures baseline economic and demographic characteristics, including GDP per capita at purchasing power parity, internet users as a share of the population, the share of the population aged 65 years and over, urban population share and mobile subscriptions per 100 people; block 2 (health system) captures healthcare infrastructure and resourcing, including physicians per 1,000 population, the UHC index, health expenditure per capita and government health expenditure as a share of GDP; and block 3 (institutional and trust) captures governance, public attitudes and social context, including the government AI readiness index, government effectiveness, confidence in hospitals, social protection coverage and trust in doctors and nurses. Table 3 reports descriptive statistics for all variables. We match all indicators to countries by ISO code, yielding a consistent cross-country panel for analysis. Most indicators have reference years between 2021 and 2025 (Table 3), but the Wellcome trust and confidence measures were collected in 2018, 8 years before our Copilot data, so these variables capture pre-existing attitudes rather than contemporaneous sentiment.

Table 3 Descriptive statistics for all variables (N = 109 countries/regions)

Empirical strategy

We examine two outcomes: how much countries use AI for health (intensity) and what they ask about (composition). We relate each to 14 country-level predictors entered in three hierarchical blocks. Because these characteristics are measured in different units (dollars, years and percentages), we standardize them, so that coefficients represent the expected change in standard deviation units for a one-standard-deviation increase in the predictor.

Formally, with the country/region as the unit of analysis (N = 109, reduced to N = 93 under listwise deletion in our primary merge method), we estimate OLS regressions of health conversation intensity and intent shares (see ‘Copilot data’ section for definition)

$${Y}_{i}=\alpha +\mathop{\sum }\limits_{k=1}^{K}{\beta }_{k}{X}_{ki}+{\varepsilon }_{i}$$

where Yi is the standardized dependent variable for country i, Xki are the K = 15 standardized predictors (the 14 indicators listed below, with GDP per capita entering as both a linear and a quadratic term), εi is the error term and α is the intercept. Continuous variables are z-scored within the complete-case regression sample (N = 93) before estimation. GDP per capita is log-transformed before standardization to address its right-skewed distribution, with a quadratic term (the square of mean-centred log GDP, itself then z-standardized) to enable nonlinear relationships.

Our secondary indicators span different time periods and reporting frequencies, so we merge them to a single cross-sectional value per country using four temporal aggregation methods. The two ‘recent’ methods assign each country its most recent non-null value, searching backwards from the indicator’s latest available year within a 3- or 5-year window. The two ‘average’ methods compute the arithmetic mean over the last three or five calendar years, requiring at least two of three or three of five non-null values, respectively. We select ‘recent 5-year’ as the primary merge method because it minimizes variable drop-out under the listwise deletion we use in our regressions (N = 93; see Supplementary Appendix section 1 for the 16 excluded countries). Under this method, each country receives the most recent non-null observation available within a five-year window (for example, a country’s physicians-per-1,000 value is the latest available between 2019 and 2023). The three alternative merge methods serve as robustness checks (Supplementary Tables 5 and 6).

Block 1 (development and demographics) includes GDP per capita (log), GDP per capita (log)2, internet users, population 65+, urban population and mobile subscriptions. Block 2 (health system) adds physicians per 1,000, UHC index, health expenditure per capita and government health expenditure (per cent GDP). Block 3 (institutional and trust) adds AI readiness, government effectiveness, confidence in hospitals, social protection and trust in doctors/nurses. This hierarchical structure allows us to assess the incremental explanatory power of health system and institutional characteristics beyond baseline development indicators. We report R2 after each block and the change in R2R2) attributable to each added block; all reported coefficients come from the full 15-predictor model, with only the R2 values reflecting the cumulative block sequence. We also report bivariate Pearson correlations alongside the multivariate regressions to provide a transparent picture of unconditional associations as well as our main regression analyses. Standard errors reported in the primary regression analyses (Tables 1 and 2) use the HC3 heteroskedasticity-consistent estimator35. We use HC3 rather than the more common HC0 estimator because Long and Ervin36 show via Monte Carlo simulation that HC0 often results in incorrect inferences when N ≤ 250, whereas HC3 performs well even for samples as small as N = 25. All reported statistical tests are two-sided.

Throughout this Article, we assess robustness in the following ways. First, we re-estimate all models using the three alternative merge methods (recent 3 year: N = 70, average 3 year: N = 36, average 5 year: N = 74; reported in Supplementary Tables 56). Second, for the intent share regressions, in which eight dependent variables are tested against the same set of predictors, we report Benjamini–Hochberg37 FDR corrections to account for multiple comparisons (Supplementary Table 7).

Moreover, we also report diagnostic checks for multicollinearity using variance inflation factors (Supplementary Appendix section 3), for influential observations using Cook’s distance (Supplementary Fig. 1a) and for single-country sensitivity using leave-one-out analysis (Supplementary Fig. 1b). We treat a coefficient as a robust finding only if it meets the following criteria: (1) The coefficient must be significant at P < 0.05 under HC3 standard errors in the primary specification. (2) For the intensity regression (single dependent variable), a predictor must be significant at P < 0.05 in the primary specification and reach same-direction significance in at least one of the three alternative merge methods. (3) For the intent share regressions (eight dependent variables), we additionally require that the coefficient survive Benjamini–Hochberg FDR correction. We report coefficients that fall short of these thresholds but flag them explicitly as not robust.

Reporting summary

Further information on research design is available in the Nature Portfolio Reporting Summary linked to this article.

The data analysed in this study are derived from de-identified Microsoft Copilot conversation logs. Raw and de-identified conversation-level data cannot be shared publicly due to privacy constraints, internal data-governance policies and the terms under which the data were collected. All conversation data underwent automatic PII scrubbing prior to analysis, and all subsequent processing followed an ‘eyes-off’ model in which no human researcher accessed conversation content. The research dataset retains no persistent user identifiers and will be deleted within 30 days of final publication approval in accordance with internal data-retention requirements.

The analysis code is not publicly available. It was developed within Microsoft’s internal infrastructure and relies on proprietary data pipelines and access-controlled systems that cannot be reproduced externally.

  1. Costa-Gomes, B. & Chen, S. et al. What people do with Copilot. Technical Report, Microsoft AI https://microsoft.ai/wp-content/uploads/2025/12/What_people_do_with_Copilot-8.pdf (2025).

  2. Costa-Gomes, B. et al. Public use of a generalist LLM chatbot for health queries. Nat. Health https://doi.org/10.1038/s44360-026-00117-x (2026).

  3. Pew Research Center. Where do Americans get health information, and what do they trust? Pew Research Center https://www.pewresearch.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/20/2026/04/PS_2026.4.7_health-information_REPORT.pdf (2026).

  4. Capraro, V. et al. The impact of generative artificial intelligence on socioeconomic inequalities and policy making. PNAS Nexus 3, 191 (2024).

    Article  Google Scholar 

  5. Andreassen, H. K. et al. European citizens’ use of E-health services: a study of seven countries. BMC Public Health 7, 53 (2007).

    Article  PubMed  PubMed Central  Google Scholar 

  6. Wellcome Global Monitor 2018. Wellcome Trust https://wellcome.org/reports/wellcome-global-monitor/2018 (2019).

  7. Bujnowska-Fedak, M. M., Waligóra, J. & Mastalerz-Migas, A. in Advancements and Innovations in Health Sciences Vol. 1211, 1–16 (Springer, 2019).

  8. Zhao, D., Zhao, H. & Cleary, P. D. International variations in trust in health care systems. Int. J. Health Plann. Manage. 34, 130–139 (2019).

    Article  PubMed  Google Scholar 

  9. Piltch-Loeb, R. & Wyka, K. et al. A global survey on trust, digital health literacy and health information quality. Nat. Health https://doi.org/10.1038/s44360-026-00102-4 (2026).

  10. Busch, F. et al. Multinational attitudes toward AI in health care and diagnostics among hospital patients. JAMA Netw. Open 8, e2514452 (2025).

    Article  PubMed  PubMed Central  Google Scholar 

  11. McCain, M. et al. How people use Claude for support, advice, and companionship. Anthropichttps://www.anthropic.com/news/how-people-use-claude-for-support-advice-and-companionship (2025).

  12. Phang, J. et al. Investigating affective use and emotional well-being on ChatGPT. Preprint at https://doi.org/10.48550/arXiv.2504.03888 (2025).

  13. Appel, R. E., McCrory, P., Tamkin, A., McCain, M., Neylon, T. & Stern, M. Anthropic Economic Index Report: uneven geographic and enterprise AI adoption. Technical Report, Anthropic https://www.anthropic.com/research/anthropic-economic-index-september-2025-report (2025).

  14. Chen, H. et al. Large language models and global health equity: a roadmap for equitable adoption in LMICs. Lancet Reg. Health West. Pac. 63, 101707 (2025).

    PubMed  PubMed Central  Google Scholar 

  15. Bick, A., Blandin, A., Deming, D. J., Fuchs-Schündeln, N. & Jessen, J. Mind the Gap: AI adoption in Europe and the US (NBER, 2026).

  16. Abdelwahed, A. E. et al. Public attitudes and practices toward using AI chatbots for healthcare assistance: a multinational cross-sectional study. BMC Health Serv. Res. 26, 335 (2026).

    Article  Google Scholar 

  17. Gumilar, K. E. et al. Disparities in medical recommendations from AI-based chatbots across different countries/regions. Sci. Rep. 14, 17052 (2024).

    Article  CAS  PubMed  PubMed Central  Google Scholar 

  18. Fox, S. & Duggan, M. Health Online 2013. Technical Report, Pew Research Center https://www.pewresearch.org/internet/2013/01/15/health-online-2013/ (2013).

  19. Amante, D. J., Hogan, T. P., Pagoto, S. L., English, T. M. & Lapane, K. L. Access to care and use of the Internet to search for health information: results from the US National Health Interview Survey. J. Med. Internet Res. 17, e106 (2015).

    Article  PubMed  PubMed Central  Google Scholar 

  20. World Health Organization. Global Strategy on Digital Health 2020–2025 https://www.who.int/publications/i/item/9789240020924 (2021).

  21. OpenAI. AI as a Healthcare Ally: How Americans are Navigating the System with ChatGPT. Technical Report. https://cdn.openai.com/pdf/2cb29276-68cd-4ec6-a5f4-c01c5e7a36e9/OpenAI-AI-as-a-Healthcare-Ally-Jan-2026.pdf (2026).

  22. Xia, J. et al. Mobile phone data show spatial and socioeconomic inequalities in hospital utilization. Nat. Health 1, 760–769 (2026).

  23. Williamson, L. D. & Prins, K. Uncertain and anxiously searching for answers: the roles of negative healthcare experiences and medical mistrust in intentions to seek information from online spaces. Health Commun. 39, 1082–1093 (2024).

    Article  PubMed  Google Scholar 

  24. Kyle, M. A. & Frakt, A. B. Patient administrative burden in the US health care system. Health Serv. Res. 56, 755–765 (2021).

    Article  PubMed  PubMed Central  Google Scholar 

  25. Ginsberg, J., Mohebbi, M. H., Patel, R. S., Brammer, L., Smolinski, M. S. & Brilliant, L. Detecting influenza epidemics using search engine query data. Nature 457, 1012–1014 (2009).

    Article  CAS  PubMed  Google Scholar 

  26. Paul, M. J. & Dredze, M. You are what you tweet: analyzing Twitter for public health. Proc. Int. AAAI Conf. Weblogs Social Media 5, 265–272 (2011).

    Article  Google Scholar 

  27. Hendy, A. et al. How good are GPT models at machine translation? A comprehensive evaluation. Preprint at https://doi.org/10.48550/arXiv.2302.09210 (2023).

  28. Microsoft. Supported Regions and Languages in Microsoft Copilot; https://support.microsoft.com/en-us/microsoft-copilot/supported-regions-and-languages-in-microsoft-copilot?utm_source=copilot.com (accessed June 2026).

  29. World Bank. World Development Indicators; https://databank.worldbank.org/source/world-development-indicators (accessed March 2026).

  30. World Health Organization. Global Health Observatory Data Repository; https://www.who.int/data/gho (accessed March 2026).

  31. Oxford Insights. Government AI Readiness Index 2025; https://oxfordinsights.com/ai-readiness/government-ai-readiness-index-2025 (accessed March 2026).

  32. Kaufmann, D., Kraay, A. & Mastruzzi, M. The Worldwide Governance Indicators: methodology and analytical issues. Hague J. Rule Law 3, 220–246 (2011).

    Article  Google Scholar 

  33. World Bank. Worldwide Governance Indicators; https://www.worldbank.org/en/publication/worldwide-governance-indicators (accessed March 2026).

  34. International Labour Organization. Social Protection Data: SDG Indicator 1.3.1; https://ilostat.ilo.org/data/ (accessed March 2026).

  35. MacKinnon, J. G. & White, H. Some heteroskedasticity-consistent covariance matrix estimators with improved finite sample properties. J. Econom. 29, 305–325 (1985).

    Article  Google Scholar 

  36. Long, J. S. & Ervin, L. H. Using heteroscedasticity consistent standard errors in the linear regression model. Am. Stat. 54, 217–224 (2000).

    Article  Google Scholar 

  37. Benjamini, Y. & Hochberg, Y. Controlling the false discovery rate: a practical and powerful approach to multiple testing. J. R. Stat. Soc. B 57, 289–300 (1995).

    Article  Google Scholar 

  38. Hafen, R. geofacet: ggplot2 Faceting Utilities for Geographical Data; https://CRAN.R-project.org/package=geofacet (R Package Version 0.2.2, 2024).

Download references

We thank the Futures and Health teams at Microsoft AI for their support and contributions to this research. Particularly, we thank H. Richardson for all the guidance and help with the governance of this research. We also thank P. Belem for the invaluable contribution to team spirits.

No external funding was received for this work.

All authors are employees of Microsoft. Microsoft develops and operates Copilot, the platform analysed in this study.

Nature Health thanks Tien Yin Wong and the other, anonymous, reviewer(s) for their contribution to the peer review of this work. Primary Handling Editor: Lorenzo Righetto, in association with the Nature Health team.

Supplementary Figs. 1 and 2, Supplementary Tables 1–8 and statistical calculations, and Supplementary References.

Read the whole story
sarcozona
23 minutes ago
reply
Epiphyte City
Share this story
Delete

Ukrainian drones wipe out entire US tank brigade in live war game - Ars Technica

1 Share

Ukrainian drone teams demolished a brigade of US Army tanks and armored vehicles during a live war game held this year—but the US soldiers were lucky enough to get “respawn” attempts while learning from the experience.

The semiannual military exercise, called Combined Resolve, gave the US military a firsthand taste of how modern drone warfare has evolved on the battlefields of Ukraine. The Ukrainian drone operators participating in the exercise were easily able to spot and destroy US armored vehicles by mimicking the actions of dropping bombs from above or moving close enough to simulate a kamikaze strike, according to US officials and a participant who spoke with The Wall Street Journal.

US armored vehicles were being destroyed so quickly that they were “respawned” and sent back into the simulated fray, a US official told The Wall Street Journal. The US troops who participated in the exercise—held in Germany from April 9 to May 10—were on rotational deployment from Fort Hood, Texas.

“Using the drones with the Army, it keeps everyone on edge,” according to an unidentified US Army soldier in a promotional video for Combined Resolve. “There is never a safe spot or safe moment in the game anymore.”

The participating troops hailed from the 3rd Armored Brigade Combat Team of the 1st Cavalry Division, which typically operates armored vehicles, like M1A2 tanks and Bradley infantry fighting vehicles.

But by repeating the training scenario throughout the two-week exercise, US Army troops got better at figuring out how to disperse and hide from the drones while using countermeasures such as electronic warfare.

The US military is not alone in learning such lessons from battle-hardened Ukrainian drone operators.

Ukrainian drone teams also participated in a Swedish-led military exercise for NATO, called Aurora 26, that was also held in May. A mock mechanized assault by NATO tanks and infantry fighting vehicles allowed Ukrainian drones to take out dozens of the attacking armored vehicles, which eventually forced planners to reset the war game, The Kyiv Independent reported.

Armored tanks first played a useful role in helping break through entrenched battlefield lines during the final years of World War I more than a century ago. But since Russia launched its full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022, frontline combat has seen the return of positional warfare centered on fortified networks of trenches. That is because the increased lethality of modern drone warfare has largely negated large assaults by armored vehicles and troops in recent years.

The current lethality of the so-called drone kill zone has forced both sides to rely primarily on infiltration tactics using small groups or even individual soldiers when trying to take or reclaim territory, sometimes riding motorcycles, all-terrain vehicles, or horses. Russia’s offensives, which are aimed at seizing more Ukrainian territory, have been reduced to bloody attritional operations where soldiers are sent forward on near-suicidal missions in what Russians themselves describe as the “meat grinder.”

Meanwhile, armored tanks and vehicles have mostly become an endangered species on the frontlines. Russia has lost more than 14,000 tanks and armored vehicles of other types during the war, according to the Dutch open source intelligence tracking project Oryx, which only counted visually verified losses. Ukraine has lost over 6,000 armored combat vehicles.

But both Russia and Ukraine are still attempting to use mechanized assaults with vehicles on occasion. In May of this year, Ukraine used armored vehicles in limited counterattacks that penetrated Russian defenses—the result of Ukrainian military experiments with using electronic warfare and targeted strikes on Russian drone pilots to help achieve localized territorial gains. That was a notable feat, given that enabling mechanized vehicles to survive the Russian drone kill zone was “categorically impossible in 2025,” according to the Institute for the Study of War based in Washington, DC.

In July, Russian forces launched their own mechanized assault with tanks and infantry fighting vehicles in the hotly contested Donetsk Oblast in eastern Ukraine. This attack was apparently repelled, with the Ukrainian military reportedly destroying 80 percent of the Russian vehicles before they even reached the frontlines.

The Pentagon has requested more than $54 billion for acquiring drone and counterdrone systems in its fiscal year 2027 budget proposal, an amount that exceeds Ukraine’s entire military budget. But as the Combined Resolve exercise showed, the US military must also adapt its unit training and operational practices to the threat of short-range drones if it wants troops to survive on future battlefields.

Read the whole story
sarcozona
5 hours ago
reply
Epiphyte City
Share this story
Delete

Fossils show huge carbon emissions harm forests, not ‘green the planet’ | US news | The Guardian

1 Share

Adding huge quantities of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere is set to cause the Earth’s forests to wither and die rather than flourish, according to a new study that counters erroneous claims that fossil fuel pollution will green the planet.

An analysis of fossilized leaf cells from a period known as the Paleocene-Eocene Thermal Maximum (or PETM), which occurred about 56 million years ago, has helped reconstruct how the world’s forests responded when planet-heating gases were previously being released at a rapid rate.

The current galloping pace of carbon emissions from the burning of fossil fuels is unmatched in historic and prehistoric records but the PETM, when huge amounts of carbon were released over a 130,000-year period and the world heated up by as much as 8C (14F), is the closest comparison.

The authors of the new paper found this prehistoric change caused a retreat in the forests that blanketed the Paleocene-Eocene world, causing them to die off as the Earth browned rather than greened, a finding they state has “chilling implications” for today’s world.

Fragments of fossilized leaves like these helped the authors recreate the forest canopies of 56m years ago. Photograph: Dr. Regan Dunn

“What we see is that as the carbon dioxide ramped up, the forests became very dense but then subsequently collapsed, opening up dramatically,” said Regan Dunn, a researcher at La Brea Tar Pits and the Natural History Museum of Los Angeles County, who led the study.

“Around 60% of the biomass of the standing vegetation was gone, it was a huge loss. This should be a concern because the rate of carbon release has never been higher than now.”

Dun added: “Forests are some of our best friends and allies but we are already seeing them die back, be cut down and consumed by wildfires. It’s happening quickly, every summer the change seems faster and faster.”

Plants like trees require carbon to build their structures and, along with water and sunlight, provide food. Once the world started to burn coal, oil and gas in huge volumes from the industrial revolution onwards, the amount of emitted carbon dioxide surged at an unprecedented rate, with atmospheric concentrations of CO2 rising by more than 50% in little over a century.

This increase in carbon did initially help boost some plant life, a change that has been seized upon by those who question the facts of climate science. Prominent figures in Donald Trump’s administration have argued that burning fossil fuels is good for the environment.

“CO2 was never a pollutant,” Doug Burgum, the interior secretary, told Fox Business earlier this year as the federal government moved to erase its own power to address the climate crisis. “When we breathe, we emit CO2. Plants need CO2 to survive and grow. They thrive with more CO2.”

On the same TV network last year, Chris Wright, Trump’s energy secretary, said that there were “pluses” to global heating as well as negatives. “A warmer planet with more CO2 is better for growing plants,” Wright claimed.

The authors compared the cuticle structure of modern leaves (pictured above under epifluorescence microscopy) with fossil leaf cuticles to create a model for canopy cover. Scale bar is 50 microns (0.05 mm). Photograph: Dr. Regan Dunn

Experts have previously rejected such claims as false, with the new research paper, published in Science, showing that the Earth’s past experience demonstrates that trees require much more than CO2 to thrive.

Extra carbon dioxide traps more heat, causing trees to struggle amid extreme temperatures and a lack of key nutrients. Hotter conditions can also trigger outbreaks of pests and disease, weakening trees further, and dry out vegetation that then explodes into huge wildfires, such as those that have engulfed much of Canada and western Europe this summer.

The switch from greening forests to browning forests occurred around 2000, the new paper states, when the impacts of drought and heat stress overtook the benefits of extra CO2. Since then, evidence has piled up of escalating global tree mortality, including trees in the tropics dying of dehydration.

“Once the climate becomes too warm plants aren’t able to handle it, it affects their physiology and their relationship with water,” said Dunn. “Once they can’t survive because the CO2 and temperatures are too high, that’s when you see forests die back.”

There was “quite a lot of tree mortality” now occurring in Europe, North America and the Amazon, Dunn said, requiring swift cuts to carbon emissions to ensure that the world doesn’t barrel down the same path as it did 56m years ago.

“There is still time to prevent the worst outcomes and best thing we can do is keep fossil fuels in the ground,” she said. “It’s important for people to understand that once we pass thresholds it takes a long time to recover from them. The 130,000 years of the PETM change on human timescales is basically forever.”

Dunn and her colleagues ascertained the extent of ancient forests by analyzing fossilized cells of leaves called leaf cuticle fragments. This enabled them to ascertain the density of the forest canopy during the PETM, allowing them to calculate the advance and retreat of forests over time.

The field crew excavating a trench through PETM strata in the Hanna Basin, Wyoming. Photograph: Marieke Dechesne, USGS

In that past era, forests covered a much larger extent of the world than now, with no ice at the poles and much higher seas than today. But while the PETM changes occurred over many thousands of years via carbon released by the natural forces of volcanic activity, current climate change is much faster and caused by our deliberate combustion of fossil fuels.

The paper is a “genuine advance” and provides a record over tens of thousands of years that shows the knock-on impacts of thinning forests, according to Trevor Keenan, a scientist at the University of California, Berkeley, who was not involved in the new research.

“The headline is that warming won,” Keenan said. “Carbon dioxide rose sharply, and any benefit that gave the forests was not enough to stop canopies from opening up and staying open for tens of thousands of years.”

This is worrying because the pace of change today, he added. “The ancient carbon release happened over thousands of years, ours is happening over decades,” he said. “Faster forcing gives ecosystems less room to adjust.

“Second, those forests faced climate change alone. Today’s forests are dealing with the same warming while also being fragmented, logged, converted to agriculture and exposed to altered fire regimes. If forests thinned under the slower and cleaner version of this experiment, that is not a reassuring precedent.”

Read the whole story
sarcozona
5 hours ago
reply
Epiphyte City
Share this story
Delete

Does your dog make you safer in bear country? - High Country News

1 Comment

Earlier this summer, I was jogging on a local trail with my 7-year-old black lab mutt, Camas, when she suddenly froze. The fur along her spine bristled. Then she let out a single, sharp bark — a timbre I’d never before heard. 

I caught the unmistakable musk of an animal and my hand shot to the bear spray on my chest. Halfway up a tree less than 20 yards away, a beautiful, small cinnamon black bear stared back at us.

The bear scampered off as Camas growled, standing her ground in front of me on the trail. “Good girl,” I told her, my heart rate slowing to a normal pace. My dog, I assumed, warned me early of a potential threat. I was proud. 

Credit: Journal of Wildlife Management

In bear country, common wisdom holds that dogs serve as early bear alarms, or even deterrents. That belief, however, has long rested mostly on anecdote. Until recently, almost no one had tested whether it was actually true.

A new study in the Journal of Wildlife Management analyzed bear-dog conflicts involving black, polar and brown bears from Alaska to Florida. The results challenge the idea that dogs make people safer in bear country and they have me rethinking my relationship with Camas in the woods.

“If you think a house pet is likely going to be your bear, not only detector but deterrent, you might want to think twice about that,” lead author of the paper Tom Smith told me over Zoom, one of his dogs begging for attention in the background while mine snoozed next to me. 

Smith, a research wildlife biologist at Brigham Young University in Utah, analyzed 326 bear-dog encounters spanning more than a century, drawing from newspaper articles, federal and state government reports, books, records compiled by other bear specialists, and internet searches. 

Smith began working with bears more than 30 years ago in Alaska’s Katmai National Park. He’s published influential research on bear spray and guns as bear deterrents, and has become one of the world’s leading experts on human-bear interaction. “As soon as you become the bear guy, then everybody comes running to you for advice on how to be safe,” he said. “So I thought, ‘I’m going to have to get to the heart of this.”

Smith has long been interested in the way dogs impact humans’ odds of an encounter in bear country. But the issue became urgent and tangible to him following a 2023 attack that left two people and their dog dead in a tent in Canada’s Banff National Park. The issue hasn’t gone away. This summer alone, a jogger and his dog were mauled near Island Park, Idaho, while recordings of separate encounters involving dogs in Banff and Alberta went viral online. 

The data show people are largely unprepared for bear encounters and naive to their possible consequences. Dogs ran away, fought with bears, provoked confrontations, drew owners in to fight off bears barehanded, and even boomeranged bears back to people. 

The first surprise in the data was how few people carried any deterrent at all. That might be because people thought, erroneously, Smith says, that dogs would be sufficient to keep bears away. Recreators wielded bear spray in only about a tenth of cases and a firearm in roughly a third. All told, five people and 56 dogs died in the encounters Smith analyzed.

Contrary to some common wisdom, dogs also weren’t effective warning systems for bears. In fact, they alerted their owners early of a bear in only 1 in 11 of the encounters the study analyzed. Dogs provoked the bear, instigating the encounter, in more than half the cases. After the bear conflict began, things didn’t look much better: Dogs tangled with bears about 40% of the time, ran away in 20% of encounters, and didn’t engage at all in about 17% of cases. So much for dogs being excellent protectors.

Credit: Journal of Wildlife Management

Other findings were less surprising. Leashes were a major decider in the severity of the interaction. Unleashed dogs were involved in six times as many incidents as leashed pets. Smith said dogs without a leash can dart ahead of owners or crash through brush and spook a bear. Canines can also act as bear boomerangs. In 27 of the encounters, dogs brought a bear back to their owners. In 70% of these instances, the dog owner was injured. Worse yet, many owners in the data came to rescue their pet when it got in a scuffle with a bear, often with no deterrent. The result: 85% of the time, those owners were injured. 

Additionally, the data reinforced something bear experts have known for years: the larger the group of people, the less likely the encounter. However, the presence of a dog dramatically shifts that risk. Dogs roughly doubled the odds of a conflict compared to the same-sized groups with no canine companions. 

Taken as a whole, the data paint a portrait in which bears and domestic dogs don’t get along. Smith suspects it’s part of the long evolutionary relationship between bears and wolves. For thousands of years, wolves competed with bears for food, killed cubs and even kicked bruins off carcasses. Some of this behavior is on public display in places like Yellowstone National Park, where populations of both species flourish. Modern dogs may still trigger those ancient instincts. 

Smith recognizes limitations and nuance in his data, too. For one, it’s important to note that the dogs in the analysis were domestic companions, not highly-trained guardian dogs meant to fend off predators — which data show can reduce bear presence at ranches and farms. Also, data on human-bear conflict inherently shows a bias, depicting only the encounters that went majorly wrong rather than the majority of experiences when people venture into the places bruins live and the species coexist without incident. “For the most part, people and their dogs pass through bear country without incident,” Smith wrote in the paper.

“The takeaway isn’t to keep dogs out of bear country,” Smith said. “The takeaway is there are things you can do that greatly improve your odds.”

Best practices, backed by Smith’s data, say to travel in groups, eliminate smells if you’re camping and make noise. Bear bells, he says, don’t work. Above almost all else? “You have no business being in bear country without a deterrent,” Smith said.

“You have no business being in bear country without a deterrent.”

Dogs just don’t cut it on that front. According to Smith, bear spray has the highest likelihood of fending off an aggressive bear for the vast majority of recreationists in bear country. But firearms can work too for experienced users. Carry your spray (or gun) where you can reach it in a split second. No matter what deterrent you choose, practice with it. Bear encounters can happen in seconds.  The author’s companion, Camas, in bear country. Credit: Nick Mott

If you do take your dog, consider a leash. “It’s not just dogs and bears,” Smith said. “It’s also dogs and everything else.” Smith’s own dog had been sprayed by a skunk twice in the last month. Mine finds few greater joys in life than chasing ground squirrels, marmots and grouse. So, we’re both faced with navigating how to behave in wild places with these family members that, if they see a deer or elk or bear, may not be able to hold themselves back.

Since talking with Smith, I’ve thought about the role Camas plays in bear country in a more nuanced way. She’s warned me about bears — even since that encounter on my jog. But she’s also ignored bears less than 30 yards away, chased wildlife she shouldn’t and, even in her younger days, treed a black bear.

The lesson isn’t that dogs don’t belong in bear country writ large. It’s that they’re dogs. If recreating in bear country is an odds game, they’re not doing you any favors. As much as we love and trust them, they’re unpredictable. And they can make things worse as often as they make things better. 

“It’s a personal thing, it really is,” Smith said. “We work in statistics with a pool of instances. But you are not a pool of instances. You’re you.”

This story was produced as part of the Western Environmental Reporting Collaborative, a partnership between Mountain Journal/Montana Free Press, High Country News, Report for America and local news organizations across the West.

Spread the word. News organizations can pick-up quality news, essays and feature stories for free.

Creative Commons License

Republish our articles for free, online or in print, under a Creative Commons license.

Read the whole story
sarcozona
8 hours ago
reply
Do not take your dog hiking in bear country
Epiphyte City
Share this story
Delete

The Secret Society of Nerds Who Control Congress and Ruin Our Health Care

1 Share

Today I want to explain a hidden yet very serious hurdle to governance in America, a place where corporate-friendly technocrats have burrowed in to policymaking to prevent elected leaders from improving our lives. It’s about something called the Congressional Budget Office, or CBO, an institution with an anodyne-sounding name that ostensibly scores legislative proposals based on their likely spending and revenue costs. To the extent that anyone has heard of CBO, it is a source of information about the Federal budget deficit. But I’m going to explain why this institution is a key and hidden reason our democratic system is failing.

I’ll start with an experience I had a couple of days ago in a doctor’s office for a routine medical procedure. The doctor was late, because a bunch of appointments had jammed up in the schedule. When he came in, he was apologetic. “We don’t have enough time with patients anymore,” he said. He had a calm and methodical demeanor, but he was clearly frustrated at what he called “the McKinsey-style” management of the hospital.

While there used to be a few administrators to take care of the practice, now there’s an entire building of them. “They spend their time making us more efficient,” he said, “which is to say, thinning us out so they can pay for themselves.” He reserved particular scorn for United Health Group, which seems to put pressure on the entire system. I’ve seen many doctors in my life, with increasing eye-rolling about private equity, but this kind of outburst was new.

I’m reminded of that episode because of a column written by a colleague of mine, Hannah Garden-Monheit, who was the former head of policy planning at the Federal Trade Commission. She described how her father, suffering from cancer, had his leg amputated. That same United Health refused to pay for either rehab or a prosthetic leg, calling it medically unnecessary. He spent weeks longer in the hospital as a result, driving up expenses.

Her family desperately tried to get to someone who could help. “This is unreasonable, but I don’t know how I can fix it,” said one call center worker for the company. Eventually, they gave up, because it was simply too difficult to fight with the company while he was battling cancer. He died having spent his final time on earth in a wheelchair.

The only reason Garden-Monheit could tell this story publicly is because he died. While he was alive, he asked that she keep quiet, scared that the company would “retaliate against him while he still needed their coverage for his cancer treatments.” Imagine that, living in fear of corporate retaliation, without being able to walk, at the end of one’s life.

This cruel process of asking permission from vengeful insurers for treatment prescribed by a doctor, and being denied arbitrarily, is known as “Prior Authorization.” And it is something that has become routine in every part of the U.S. health care, except for traditional Medicare. (If you’ve encountered this situation, Garden-Monheit has set up a site where you can comment on your experience being denied care. She will use it for advocacy to end prior authorization.)

The rationale for this system is to control costs. Big insurers now send decision-making over medical care to third parties that can veto decisions by doctors. Increasingly, insurance companies have bought those third parties, as UnitedHealth has with a company called NaviHealth, and Cigna Group did with EviCore, a company that uses “advanced predictive AI algorithms” to adjudicate claims.

The rise of prior authorization is a part of history that I’ve written about, whereby economists, starting in the late 1960s, decided the problem with our health care system is that patients and doctors are wildly irresponsible consumers of medical resources. Health insurance, so went the argument, created a “moral hazard” whereby people could just use too much medicine, like it was an all-you-can-eat buffet. The policy solution was to put a financier in between patients and doctors to ration care, which we see in the form of co-pays, deductibles, coinsurance fees, and then prior authorization systems. At the same time, economists believed in leaving medical prices and profits unregulated, as well as fostering consolidation, to let the free market make things more efficient.

It’s an insane theory, and it has led to an excessively bureaucratic system organized around rent-seeking. Garden-Monheit, and a health care analyst I work with named Emma Freer, have come out with an excellent report on prior authorization, and how it should be banned. It’s chock-full of statistics on the harm and costs of this system. Private systems are full of this second-guessing of the judgment of doctors, and yet are very expensive.

By contrast, traditional Medicare allows doctors to prescribe treatments without much oversight, but it regulates price. On the rare occasions when a third party oversees a medical decision, that third party doesn’t have an incentive to deny care but simply to see if a treatment is medically necessary. The costs for this public system are far lower than for its private alternatives, like Medicare Advantage or commercial insurance.

What’s interesting are two things. First, prior authorization, which ostensibly should reduce costs, almost certainly does the opposite. There are a few industry-funded studies that argue otherwise, but nine of out of ten doctors say that prior authorization increases utilization of health care services. Patients have to try ineffective treatments, they get sicker and require costlier care, they need more office visits, and administrative bloat is expensive. Garden-Monheit’s Dad may not have gotten a prosthetic leg, but he did ultimately require a lot of extra and expensive time in the hospital instead of being at home. And that’s not to mention the significant administrative burden of denying care. Essentially, prior authorization is pure corporate empire building, and there’s no evidence it’s even good for Wall Street.

And that brings me to the second interesting nugget. It turns out, politicians hate prior authorization. And yet, despite the fact that it’s costly and loathsome, and may not even help Wall Street, they still can’t seem to pass legislation to do anything about it. There’s a very modest bill, called the Improving Seniors’ Timely Access to Care Act, that would require the standardization of transactions and include some reporting of prior authorization data to the government. This bill has an overwhelming majority of the House of Representatives as co-sponsors, at 290 members, and wide support in the Senate. It has been introduced in every session since 2019.

You’d think it would easily pass, as prior authorization keeps getting worse, especially with AI being introduced to make the process even more opaque. And yet even this bill, a mild corrective, can’t pass. Why not?

The answer is the Congressional Budget Office. In 2022, the House passed this legislation, but the Senate did not, because Senators were worried about the cost of the bill. Now, as I’ve noted, that’s a weird concern, because banning prior authorization would likely reduce health care costs and Federal spending. Fee-for-service Medicare, which doesn’t use prior authorization, is much cheaper to run than Medicare Advantage, which uses it extensively.

But that is only true in the real world. In the world of Congressional accounting, doing something to cut costs is actually expensive. The Congressional Budget Office is the one that does this accounting. Here’s the chart CBO put together for that mild legislation. It shows that if passed, costs to the Federal government go up by a billion dollars in year three, then two billion, costing sixteen in aggregate in the full ten year window.

How did CBO calculate this chart? We don’t know. There’s no transparency, and no modeling that I can find. But the rationale was exactly their acceptance of the discredited moral hazard framework that has ruined our health care system. “By placing additional requirements on plans that use prior authorization,” CBO wrote, “we expect H.R. 3173 would result in a greater use of services.” Essentially, consumers and doctors are wildly irresponsible and will overspend unless a financier is rationing care using prior authorization.

What CBO is doing is not calculating costs and revenues, but making a very specific political claim, hidden by opaque regression models the public doesn’t get to see.

And these kinds of decisions are routine. For most of the 2010s, CBO vastly overstated the costs of government spending, assuming in their base models that interest rates would rapidly rise to 6% for any dollar the government would borrow, even though they stayed at zero. Why? Well they were copying the assumptions of JP Morgan and Goldman Sachs. And that political choice, hidden in neutral-sounding charts, crippled policymaking. I have seen CBO score as costless models that move trillions of dollars of risk to the Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation. When I asked why, one of the staff told me “oh well we don’t know how to calculate the costs of a financial collapse so we score it at zero.” I mean, what?!?

Ask a competent staffer in Congress and most of them have similar stories, CBO’s choices are often political and opaque. Of course, someone gets to see these models and make decisions around them; the staff at CBO does, naturally. Perhaps committee chairmen, if they are aggressive, can sneak a peak. Indeed, fighting with CBO is one of the dark arts in Congress, and usually fruitless. But the main overseers of these models are outside advisors, basically a set of experts that CBO picks. There’s a list of their 15 advisors in health care as of 2025. I listed the six with corporate affiliations.

  • Heather Dlugolenski, SVP at Cigna Healthcare

  • Michael Chernew, Partner, VBID Health

  • Sergio Santiviago, Government Relations, CVS Health

  • Katherine Baicker, Board of Directors, Eli Lilly

  • Anne Karl, Partner, Manatt, Phelps & Phillips (a big corporate law firm)

  • Melanie Whittington, Center for Pharmacoeconomics at the investment bank LeeriIl

That’s a lot of conflicts of interest! Three of them represent monopolies or near-monopolies profiting from higher spending, and there is no one who represents the interests of employers, consumers, patients, or labor. And indeed, Chernew, who is also at Harvard Medical School, runs a consulting firm that designs systems based on the idea of consumer over-consumption of health care! He would never consent to let CBO assert that his business creates more cost bloat. But it does! Now, these people are no doubt experts in their field, but they are also the unelected people that oversee the economic models determining how Congress understands the effects of its legislative proposals.

And that is crazy.

Why is CBO so powerful? It’s because it is institutionally designed to serve as a chokepoint for legislation. For a few years, I worked on the Senate Budget Committee, which oversees the Congressional Budget Office, so I learned a fair amount about it. The CBO was founded in 1975, as part of a broad institutional elevation of neoliberal economists. The Nixon administration had the Office of Management and Budget, which could overwhelm Congress with economic analysis, and so Congress decided they needed an institutional counterweight. Thus was born the CBO and the Budget Committees.

The first director of CBO was a Wall Street-friendly Democrat named Alice Rivlin, and she insisted upon “independence” of CBO from Congress, asserting that economists would make important policy determinations about how to measure costs and revenues. This decision is much like the creation of the “independence” of the Federal Reserve, another 1970s invention. Yet far from building a Congressional counterweight to the Presidency, Congress ended up creating a self-contained and self-interested network of budget experts who passed back and forth between OMB and CBO. It looked like pushback against Nixon, but was in fact the erection of a chokepoint for economists to veto legislative proposals they didn’t like in both the executive and legislative branches of government.

I saw this dynamic up close when I sat, as a Senate aide, in on one of these advisor sessions. It was a very strange experience, as CBO staff meekly presented their models to the economists who sat around a U-shaped table pontificating loudly and obnoxiously about politics. The Budget Committee staff, who worked for the actual elected officials that were ostensibly in charge, had seats in the back, and we were not allowed to speak.

I was there for a CBO session modeling trade legislation. One economist, Justin Wolfers, was discussing how the CBO simply had to get Congress to pass a free trade agreement, the Trans-Pacific Partnership, because, he claimed, the TPP might cure cancer and bring world peace. Two other economists bickered about whether the harm to domestic workers from trade was concentrated among the children of the rich. And this session was supposed to be about budgeting for costs and revenues! It was truly surreal. This session happened in 2016, just before Trump got elected due to public revulsion at precisely these kinds of secretive sessions.

CBO has enormous power over the flow of legislation. Formally, it doesn’t necessarily seem that way. The Budget Committees don’t control spending or taxation, they are process oriented and just create ways for legislators to raise points of order if legislation increases deficits. These could be voted down, but politicians don’t like being called out as increasing the deficit, and can’t explain that the process for determining these numbers is all based on fake models making political claims about the future. Moreover, there’s also the issue of timing; committees and leaders will often tell members their bill can’t get a vote “until there’s a CBO score,” and guess who decides whether to actually score a bill? Yes, those same nerds, who have enormous and secretive power.

As a result, most members of Congress tend to accept the word of the CBO as gospel, and most legislative deals require some sort of budget neutrality as determined by the CBO. To “spend” money requires a “pay-for,” meaning that if the CBO decides a reform costs money then it does, and you need to find something that the CBO decides brings in money. In other words, if you want to cut prior authorization and save money, you have to find tax revenue or other spending cuts to to “pay for” it. That makes no sense, but there we go.

There’s one last point about the CBO and the political parties. The Republicans pay close attention to how these models work, and are constantly pushing the CBO to change its frameworks, to do things like making it so tax cuts for the rich don’t cost as much because presumably they actually bring in more revenue. Lots of corporate money goes into fighting over budgetary assumptions, whereas the left basically doesn’t know the CBO exists. And because of that, the CBO scores have an especially strong psychological hold on Democrats, who desperately want to trust institutions, even when those institutions are structurally dishonest.

And that is why, despite the fact that prior authorization is costly, cruel, and unpopular, and probably doesn’t even increase corporate profits, it is very hard to stop. Congress has delegated its thinking around political economy to people with insane assumptions about the world, but who clothe their assumptions in the look of technocratic budget charts conveying authority.

The populist solution here would be to simply acknowledge that budget modeling is inherently political, and split the CBO into majority and minority institutions. Then the Democrats and Republicans could come up with their own arguments for why something costs what it does, and fight about it, instead of having elected officials beg secretive nerds to soften their assumptions slightly. Regardless, when someone scoffs at experts, know that, well, they’re not wrong. And if you get sick or need care, that automated process on the other side that tells you and your doctor what treatment is right for you, well, that’s the voice of an expert speaking, distantly, from the cold and dysfunctional logic of the CBO.


Thanks for reading! Your tips make this newsletter what it is, so please send tips on weird monopolies, stories I’ve missed, or other thoughts. And if you liked this issue of BIG, you can sign up here for more issues, a newsletter on how to restore fair commerce, innovation, and democracy. Consider becoming a paying subscriber to support this work, or if you are a paying subscriber, giving a gift subscription to a friend, colleague, or family member. If you really liked it, read my book, Goliath: The 100-Year War Between Monopoly Power and Democracy.

cheers,

Matt Stoller

Read the whole story
sarcozona
9 hours ago
reply
Epiphyte City
Share this story
Delete

China is now the world’s great oil power

1 Share

Firms tasked with defusing credit crises are getting into trouble

Read the whole story
sarcozona
9 hours ago
reply
Epiphyte City
Share this story
Delete
Next Page of Stories