A vocal group of conservative intellectuals really, really wants Americans to have more babies. The movement is small, but it doesn’t lack for high-profile adherents. Vice President J. D. Vance, a father of three, recently proclaimed, “Very simply, I want more babies in the United States of America.” Elon Musk, a father of at least 12, posted in 2022, “Doing my best to help the underpopulation crisis. A collapsing birth rate is the biggest danger civilization faces by far.” A recent Department of Transportation memo even instructed the agency to prioritize projects that “give preference to communities with marriage and birth rates higher than the national average.” It was signed by Transportation Secretary Sean Duffy, a father of nine.

If messages like these somehow do not get you in the mood to procreate, well, that’s precisely the problem.

It’s a problem, specifically, for the pronatalists: a group whose members are overwhelmingly conservative, usually religious, and almost always the parents of three or more children. They espouse the view that America’s declining birth rate is an alarming trend we ought to try to reverse. Seventeen years ago, the national birth rate was at the minimum level for a society to perpetuate itself from one generation to the next. Since then, it has fallen well below that, with no signs of bottoming out. In response, a loose cohort of intellectuals, writers, thinkers, and policy makers are doing their best to make friends in high places, get a policy agenda together, and make Americans make families again.

This won’t be easy. The pronatalists combine conservative social nudges (get married, start a family) with liberal policy objectives (give parents more money, upzone the suburbs), which makes for tricky politics. At a time of increased abortion restrictions, many liberals find them creepy—busybodies at best and eugenicists at worst. And many conservatives think they’re Trojan horses for socialism, cloaking their desire to spend taxpayer money in family-values rhetoric. Like parenting itself, giving birth to a broadly popular pronatal movement will take a lot of hard work.

Until recently, the idea that humanity might be growing too slowly would have seemed absurd. During the second half of the 20th century, experts—many swayed by the book The Population Bomb—were far more worried about the opposite problem. They feared that overpopulation would lead to widespread famine and potentially even societal collapse.

Something strange happened next: None of those predictions came true. The population continued to grow, but famine was not widespread, and collapse did not come. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, fertility rates steeply declined, most dramatically in rich countries. Rather than exploding, the global population-growth curve began to level off. At first, few noticed. After all, the birth-rate decline came on gradually. A decade ago, the U.S. total fertility rate was only slightly below the replacement rate of 2.1.

Now, however, that number is 1.6 and falling fast, even as polls show Americans believe that the ideal number of children is two to three. This poses a dire economic problem. Social Security, Medicare, and other old-age programs can’t survive at their current generosity if the number of tax-paying workers continues to decline. Even economic growth itself becomes challenging once a low enough fertility rate is reached; fewer workers means a smaller economy. In East Asia, where the worldwide birth-rate drop has been most pronounced, every country faces serious economic challenges resulting from low fertility; all are now furiously trying to encourage birth. In South Korea, where the total fertility rate is the lowest in the world at 0.68, every 200 fertile-age adults can expect to give life to 68 children; those children will produce 23 grandchildren, who will result in only eight great-grandchildren. That’s a 96 percent population decline over the course of three generations, and that’s if fertility stops decreasing and finally holds steady.

The negative effects of low fertility at home can be mitigated to some degree with immigration, but birth rates are plummeting all over the world—Mexico’s is 1.8—and the amount of immigration sufficient to outweigh the local birth dearth would be a political nonstarter, a kind of Great Replacement theory come to life. To avoid becoming South Korea someday, America needs more babies.

Making that happen is the task the pronatalists have taken on. The effort is new, but beginning to get organized. As of 2023, there’s an annual Natal Conference, and last week, there was a panel at the U.S. Capitol featuring Representative Blake Moore of Utah, a member of the Republican leadership. Every conservative think tank seems to suddenly have an “expert” on birth rates. (Liberal and centrist pronatalists exist, too, but they’re less numerous and less vocal.)

The intellectual force behind the movement lies mainly in a cluster of culturally conservative writers. These include Bethany Mandel, a writer and homeschooling mother of six; Tim Carney, a father of six who wrote Family Unfriendly, a recent book about society’s hostility toward big families; Patrick T. Brown, a father of four and a fellow at the Ethics and Public Policy Center, a socially conservative think tank; and Daniel Hess, a writer more commonly known by his X username, MoreBirths. The informal ringleader is Lyman Stone, a 33-year-old father of three who directs the Pronatalism Initiative at the right-leaning Institute for Family Studies.

[Lyman Stone: Would you have a baby if you won the lottery?]

They generally advocate for a three-pronged approach to lifting the birth rate. First are cultural nudges, which mostly entail spreading the word that kids are more blessing than burden. Second are supply-side housing-reform policies, intended to make it easier for would-be parents to afford a place to raise a family. (“Want fecundity in the sheets? Give us walkability in the streets,” Carney writes in Family Unfriendly.) Finally, there are economic incentives, which resemble the types of family-friendly welfare-state policies familiar to Northern Europeans: child allowances, baby bonuses, long parental leaves.

Stone argues that implementing such policies in the U.S. would have a significant effect. He estimates that pronatal economic policies in France, including maternity leave, child allowances, pregnancy protections at work, and higher Social Security payments for parents, have boosted the French population by 5 to 10 million people. Policy matters, he argues, not just culture.

You might expect such a progressive-sounding agenda to have attracted an enthusiastic liberal following. Not so much. In fact, left-of-center Americans are more likely to be anti-natalists. According to a recent YouGov poll, twice as many people who identify as liberal, and four times as many people who identify as very liberal, think too many children are being born than think not enough are.

To the extent that they’re even familiar with the pronatalist argument, liberals seem to find it creepy and off-putting. The main cause of the global birth-rate decline was women’s growing autonomy and access to contraception. Liberals understandably fear that trying to reverse the decline might involve undoing the progress that triggered it. (This is more or less the plot of The Handmaid’s Tale, the Margaret Atwood novel in which right-wing theocrats revolt over low fertility, and institute sex slavery and totalitarian patriarchal rule.)

Some liberals also pay attention to the context in which pronatalist messages are transmitted and who is embracing them. Vance’s “I want more babies” quote, for example, came at the March for Life, an annual anti-abortion rally in Washington, D.C. Liberals might even know that the birth rate is still far above replacement in much of sub-Saharan Africa and wonder whether pronatalists are worried specifically about a lack of white babies. “For many progressives and liberals, this conversation is tainted by a sense of it being reactionary, conservative, even sort of fascist,” Rachel Wiseman, an “anti-anti-natalist” leftist writer told me.

Then, as one former senior policy aide to a Republican lawmaker told me, “there’s the Elon of it all.” (He spoke on condition of anonymity for fear of backlash for criticizing fellow Republicans.) Musk, the most well-known pronatalist in the world, is also perhaps the most disliked person in liberal America after Donald Trump. Musk is known to have had 12 children with three partners. (Last week, a conservative influencer claimed to be the mother of his 13th child, born five months ago, though Musk has neither confirmed nor denied that he is the father of her child.) He had twins via IVF with an executive at one of his companies while a surrogate was pregnant with the child he was having with his longtime partner Grimes, who was reportedly furious when she found out. Having a dozen kids is good for the birth rate, but making big families look messy and dysfunctional is probably not.

The conservative pronatalist intellectuals, who seem to crave the ideological embrace of liberals, are self-conscious about their creepiness problem. Moore, who last month introduced a bill that would dramatically increase the child tax credit, told me, “Any effort to make this a right or left issue is nonsense and counterproductive.” He and his allies go to great lengths to clarify that they aren’t into eugenics or patriarchy and that they want more babies of all skin colors. “The people who give pronatalism a bad name care for it for reasons that I think are rather unseemly,” Brown told me. “And so it becomes icky because, well, those bad people are very concerned about it.”

Women of childbearing age skew liberal, so liberals’ distaste for pronatalism is a long-term problem. But, at a moment when Republicans have a trifecta in Washington, pronatalists face a more immediate issue on their own flank: Most Republicans still want to slash government spending, not increase it.

[Read: The coming Democratic baby bust]

“There’s a lot of headwinds to a pronatal conservative policy because Republicans have long distrusted urbanist talk, or talk of government supporting people in need,” Carney told me. Many traditional Republicans look at the pronatalist policy agenda (give money to parents, loosen suburban zoning rules) and wonder what happened to the party of fiscal restraint, anti-welfare politics, and the strictly zoned Suburban Lifestyle Dream.

Stone told me that many old-guard Republicans are worried about incentivizing single motherhood. “On some level, we have to be able to say, ‘Look: Supporting people having families is worth it,’” even if that means money flows to unwed parents, he said.

Anti-welfare Republicans aren’t the only intra-coalitional enemy. Pronatalists also face resistance from the so-called Barstool Right, the class of epicurean, anti-woke young men, usually thin in ideology but thick in leftward-pointing resentment. “This is fucking idiotic,” Dave Portnoy, the Barstool Sports founder, wrote on X above a video of Vance clumsily arguing for lower tax rates on parents. “If you can’t afford a big family don’t have a ton of kids.” (Neither Vance nor Portnoy signaled any awareness of the fact that, thanks to the child tax credit, the tax code already favors parents.)

Still, the pronatalists think they are winning, if slowly. Stone told me he understands there to be “a few” Vance staffers tasked with getting Congress to raise the child tax credit in this year’s reconciliation bill. Whether or not that happens, the pronatalists feel they are operating on a longer time horizon.

“Short term: maybe; long term: yes,” Brown told me when I asked if he was optimistic. But they had better not move too slowly. If convincing people takes too long, there might not be enough people left to convince.

US Transportation Secretary Sean Duffy said there was a "consolidation of air traffic controllers an hour before it was supposed to happen".

Until just moments before an American Airlines regional plane and an Army helicopter collided over the Potomac River last night, nothing in particular seemed amiss. Conditions were clear, Sean Duffy, the new secretary of transportation, noted in a press conference this morning. The passenger jet, coming from Wichita, Kansas, was about to arrive at Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport—one in a succession of airliners landing about two minutes apart. The Black Hawk helicopter was on a training mission from Virginia’s Fort Belvoir. Both aircraft were in a “standard flight pattern,” Duffy said. Referring to the crowded and shared air space around D.C., he added, “This was not unusual.”

And that may turn out to be the problem. The precise immediate cause of the crash—which killed all 64 passengers and crew members aboard the airliner and all three people in the helicopter—will not become clear until investigators fully analyze recordings of air-traffic-control communications and the plane’s black box. But the accident follows a long string of alarming near collisions at airports across the country—a pattern suggesting that the aviation-safety systems upon which human life depends are under enormous strain.  

[Conor Friedersdorf: Don’t politicize aviation safety]

In 2023, the Federal Aviation Administration identified 19 “serious runway incursions,” the most in almost a decade. The causes of these events are varied: air-traffic-control staffing shortages, pilot inexperience, demand for air travel, outdated technology. The increase in near misses led the FAA to create a safety review team and issue a rare industrywide “safety call to action” demanding greater vigilance throughout the community. These incidents do not appear to have prompted any major changes in safety practices either nationally or in the Washington area. Last year, the number of serious incursions declined, making the issue seem less urgent.

Reagan National’s tight footprint and three intersecting runways, along with the presence of military and other government operations nearby, make the air space surrounding the facility relatively tricky for pilots to navigate. As the popular open-source intelligence account @OSINTtechnical noted on X once footage of the accident and its aftermath began spreading on social media, “For many in the DC-area flying community, the crash tonight wasn’t a matter of if, but when.” (This morning, Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth announced an investigation of the Army helicopter’s role in the incident.)

In 2013, an airliner and a military helicopter flying at the same altitude near Reagan National came within 950 feet of each other. Last May, a Boston-bound jet traveling 100 miles an hour on the runway had to abort its takeoff because another plane had been cleared to land on an intersecting runway. Even so, the FAA added additional flight slots to Reagan National last year, over the objections of local politicians who worried about congestion and overburdening capacity.

[Read: Inside the busy, stressful world of air traffic control]

The crash near Reagan National was the first major aviation disaster involving a U.S. airline since 2009—long enough that nearly a generation of Americans are experiencing this crash as their first. Such incidents have become so rare that Americans come to assume that safety precautions automatically work.

Safety systems are vulnerable to a phenomenon known in the disaster-management world as the “near-miss fallacy”—an inability to interpret and act upon the warnings embedded in situations where catastrophe is only narrowly avoided. Paradoxically, people may come to see such events as signs that the system is working. In her groundbreaking research on NASA after the space shuttle Challenger exploded in 1986, the American sociologist Diane Vaughan faulted the agency for its “normalization of deviance.” The direct culprits in the spacecraft’s fate were faulty booster-rocket parts known as “O-rings.” Vaughn noted that shuttle missions had been experiencing problems with the parts for years, but NASA had downplayed their importance. Engineers were able to normalize O-ring incidents and other safety issues because none had caused significant harm—until one did.

The immediate cause of the crash over the Potomac may turn out to be a single tragic mistake. But this deadly tragedy occurred within a broader context. For some time, our aviation system has been ignoring warning signs and normalizing deviance. Good luck can last only so long, and it ran out last night.

Updated on January 25, 2025 at 2:32 p.m. ET

Some presidents turn to think tanks to staff their administrations. Others turn to alumni of previous White Houses. Donald Trump has turned to Fox News to fill the ranks of his Cabinet.

Former Fox & Friends host Pete Hegseth was confirmed to be secretary of defense Friday night in a dramatic vote worthy of cable news, if not the world’s greatest fighting force. After three Republican senators voted against Hegseth, Vice President J. D. Vance had to break a tie, making it the tightest vote for a defense chief ever.

Hegseth is unlikely to be the last Fox alumnus on the Cabinet. Pam Bondi, a former guest host, is on track to be confirmed as attorney general, while Sean Duffy, a former Fox Business host, will probably win confirmation as secretary of transportation. The outlook is murkier for Fox contributor Tulsi Gabbard, whom Trump nominated to be director of national intelligence. Michael Waltz, a frequent Fox guest, is already installed as national security adviser, a Cabinet-level role. And this list omits top officials appointed or nominated for high-level non-Cabinet roles, such as Border Czar Tom Homan, FDA Commissioner-Designate Marty Makary, and Surgeon General-Designate Janette Nesheiwat, all of whom have spent hours on Fox.

[David A. Graham: The Fox News rebound]

Unlike other traditional pools of top appointees, this group doesn’t represent any clear political ideology. A lack of commitment to any strong ideology can be a good thing in a Cabinet official if it means leaders are thinking for themselves. Ideologues tend toward tunnel vision and a bunker mentality, and they can cause a president both policy and political problems. Unfortunately the skulk of Foxes in the White House is not so encouraging. Their political histories and answers during confirmation hearings suggest less independent thinking or pragmatism than strong allegiance to partisanship itself, as does their collective history at Fox News. Wherever the Republican Party has been, Fox has tended to be as well. Whether it’s the GOP leading Fox or vice versa is not always clear or consistent. The channel was neocon during the Bush administration, Tea Party during the Obama administration, and anti-Trump before it was fiercely pro-Trump … and briefly Trump-skeptical again after the 2020 election, before it got back on the bandwagon. As I wrote in November, Trump and Fox have rediscovered a symbiotic relationship that has brought both back to a pinnacle of influence.

One reason Fox has been such a good farm team for the administration is that Trump appears to have chosen many of his nominees on two criteria: their allegiance to him, and whether they look TV-ready. Fox hosts check both boxes, but nearly blind partisanship is not an ideal trait in a presidential adviser. Cabinet officials need to be generally aligned with the president, but they also need to be willing and able to disagree and deliver difficult news—something Trump did not appreciate from his first-term Cabinet. Where Hegseth and Gabbard do have more developed ideologies, they are disturbing: for Hegseth, reported bigotry toward Muslims, opposition to women’s equality, and Christian nationalism; for Gabbard, an odd affinity for figures like Bashar al-Assad.

[Tom Nichols: America is now counting on you, Pete Hegseth]

Many of the Fox alumni have little relevant experience. Hegseth served as an officer in the Army, but he has no other government work and has never run any organization nearly as large as the Pentagon—and those he has led have not gone well. Gabbard served in the Army and U.S. House but has no intelligence experience, but she’s been nominated to oversee the entire intelligence community. Hegseth also has extensive personal liabilities, including serial infidelity, an allegation of sexual assault (which he strenuously denies), and many reports of alcohol abuse. (Relevant, too, is Fox News’s reputation for messy hiring—it has seen a procession of serious personal scandals in its ranks over the years, many of them involving allegations of sexual misconduct.)

In confirmation hearings, Hegseth and Bondi were both able to use their experience on TV to come across smoothly and parry questions they didn’t want to answer. Bondi, for example, avoided questions about the 2020 election that might have either identified her as an election denier or angered Trump, but the result is holes in public knowledge about her views.

Despite their flaws, most (and maybe all) of Trump’s Fox appointees will be confirmed. For that, the president will be able to thank Fox itself, because the network’s coverage helps cheerlead his decisions to Republicans. Once the Cabinet is in place, its members will have to do the hard work of governance. It might not go well for the country, but it should make for good TV.