Mercury Confidential: "Mercury is more than just a workplace. It is a family"

by Meg Storm

Ever wonder what goes on behind the scenes at Mercury Radio Arts? Just how do all of Glenn’s crazy ideas get done? Does anyone ever get a chance to sleep? Well, over the next few months we are going to take you inside MRA, giving you the inside scoop on everything from publishing to special events, 1791 to Markdown to GBTV. We will be interviewing members of our New York, Columbus, and Dallas staff, bringing you all the info, so you can know what it’s really like to work for Glenn. Part 1 (Kevin Balfe – Publishing)Part 2 (Liz Julis – GBTV/Special Events), Part 3 (Joel Cheatwood: CCO & President of TheBlaze), Part 4 (Eric Pearce: VP, TV Operation of TheBlaze)

You know you love your job when you call traveling to Israel and not sleeping for two weeks the best experience of your professional career. But that is exactly how Michele Vanderhoff, Network Operations Manager at TheBlaze, describes the event.

Vanderhoff, who studied newspaper journalism and political science at Syracuse University, first thought she wanted to be a foreign correspondent for a major newspaper, and then she thought she wanted to be a producer for a news program, and yet she has somehow found herself overseeing the ever-growing production staffs in two states for a major online streaming network.

“I thought I wanted to be a foreign correspondent and write these big long pieces about international politics from war zones,” Vanderhoff said about her initial ambitions. “One of my professors had worked for the Chicago Tribune in the 1960s, and he had all these great stories about journalism in the 60s. He basically embodied how I pictured a newsroom. I kind of romanticized journalism in my head.”

She might have been going to school to be a newspaper reporter, but, ironically, Vanderhoff never wrote or worked for a newspaper. Instead, she found internships at two highly regarded radio stations – WAER in Syracuse and 77 WABC in New York – where she gained the bulk of her production experience.

“So even though I was training to be a newspaper reporter, I actually interned as a producer for WAER, which is the NPR affiliate in Syracuse,” she explained. “I would go out and get the interview, come back and write the piece, voice the piece, and then work with an editor and get it done. That’s kind of when I really started to love the production aspect of things.”

It was during her internship with 77 WABC that Vanderhoff learned just how much she loved the industry. “I interned with 77 WABC in New York. It is where I learned how to write for broadcast. Their newsman – his name was George Weber – taught me how to write succinct, concise, get it out there type stories.”

Weber even used one of her stories on air. “I remember the first time he let me write one,” she recalled. “He was like, ‘This is going to be a test run. This isn’t going to go to air, don’t worry.’ I think like Michael Vick was very much in the news, Lindsay Lohan was very much in the news, and so I wrote something up. About 30 seconds before we went to air, he said something like, ‘Yours is better than mine. I am going to use yours.’ I remember just sitting there with my mouth open thinking I wrote that! I loved the newsroom after that.”

Despite these wonderful opportunities, her experience was still solely in radio. “I was completely foreign to TV, which is funny because television is my life now,” she said laughing.

Vanderhoff graduated college in 2008, a rough time for any business, but the media industry was particularly hard hit. She ended up taking a job in ad sales at CBS – a job she hated, but it paid the bills.

“I did ad sales for six to eight months. I hated every second of it. I was terrible at it. The only part I was good at was producing the commercials afterwards. So I was there, and I tried really hard, but it wasn’t working for me.”

With the economy not in her favor, Vanderhoff had to take matters into her own hands. Her alma mater, the Newhouse school at Syracuse University, has a large alumni network that she knew she had to take advantage of. “I wanted to start networking,” she said. “[Syracuse] put me in touch with a producer at CNN, Josh Belsky.”

It was a phone call with Belsky that ultimately got her in the door at CNN. She went in to meet with one of Belsky’s colleagues, Eric Pearce, a producer at CNN at the time and current Vice President of Television Operations at TheBlaze. “Eric Pearce called me, and he is like, ‘Come in. Let’s have a conversation.’ I go over there, and he at the time was on Issues with Jane Valez-Mitchell. I went in, and we talked for a while. He called me the next day and offered me a freelance position, which I so happily took.”

At CNN, Vanderhoff was a production assistant for Issues with Jane Valez-Mitchell. She worked closely with Pearce, a producer on the show, and her fellow production assistants – Adam Ford and Brett Zoeller, both of whom are now producers at TheBlaze.

“So while I was at CNN, I worked with Adam Ford, who is now down in our Dallas office, and Brett Zoeller, who is here in New York,” she said. “The three of us – that was my team. Eric was like the dad, and we were his kids. I made the move [to Mercury] first. I was here for a year or so, and [Adam and Brett] were bugging me constantly. They eventually came over too.”

At CNN, Zoeller, Ford, and Vanderhoff were known for their teamwork. “It was very high pressure with breaking news and stuff, but we knew we had each other’s backs,” she said. “We just worked really well together.”

There is a sign on Vanderhoff’s desk that reads ‘BAM’ – a catch phrase that served as a running joke for the production team at CNN. “That was the running joke for the three of us because seriously everybody told us that we were the best production assistant team that they had,” she explained.

“That was the order we came to Issues with Jane Valez-Mitchell: B was Brett, he came first; A was Adam, he came next; and M was Michele, I was last. Adam and I made that sign for Brett on his first day at Mercury.”

Vanderhoff made the move to Mercury in July 2010. “Eric brought me over as an associate producer. I sat by myself over in the corner on the other side of floor, before there was a Blaze newsroom,” she recalled.

“I remember Eric didn’t know what to do with me at first,” she continued. “I ended up like writing critiques of the radio show. And he had me looking for Benjamin Franklin quotes. But that was just the first week. After that, everything just hit hyper speed, and it hasn’t slowed down since.”

She assumed she would stay on the editorial side of things – producing packages for various projects and helping to create content – but as is customary at Mercury, things didn’t really go as planned.

“I kind of always thought I would stay on a more editorial track,” Vanderhoff explained. “But I had a knack for the operations stuff. I was good at just kind of organizing everybody. I was good at distributing jobs and assignments.”

“I actually remember the day that it happened,” she continued. “Eric and I used to sit next to each other when the production team was a lot smaller, and we used to send out an email everyday with assignments. He was in and out of meetings, and I was like, ‘Do you want me to send out the assignment email?’ He was like, ‘That would be great.’ And I have done it every day since. From there, I would just see the need for something to get done, and I would just do it, or I would see that he was just doing two different things, and I would be like give me this one.”

After a few months, Pearce and Vanderhoff sat down to revaluate. “We sat back down, and Eric was like, ‘You’re really not doing editorial anymore. You are doing operational stuff. Let’s make that official.’ That’s how I ended up here,” she said with a laugh.

Vanderhoff’s hard work paid off. She quickly worked her way up to Network Operations Manager, which comes with the responsibility of overseeing production in New York and Dallas. For someone like Vanderhoff, who likes to be “really hands on,” the sheer fact that she couldn’t be two places at the same time seemed daunting.

“I like to make sure anybody I am working with knows that they can rely on me – knows that they can come to me. And I have that rapport with New York because I am here. I am busting in on them all day asking how is this going, how is that going,” she explained. “I am really lucky that I have good conversations with everyone in our department. They can tell me exactly what they are thinking, and they know that if I can make it better, I will.”

“With Dallas, I can still talk to them, but it is not the same as being able to walk in and have a conversation,” she continued. “But we have all gotten a lot better with our communication, which has made it a lot easier. Checking in with each other a few times a day, and really seeing what the production needs are for Dallas, and seeing how I can help them balance their work load, help them manage their time.”

She keeps things operating through organization – lots and lots of organization. The staff is still relatively small considering Mercury’s productivity levels, but everyone is dedicated and wears many hats. It has become a bit of a joke around the office that Vanderhoff keeps it all running with the help of her trusty white boards that list the members of her team, where they are, and what they are doing (virtually at all time), but it’s the best way to keep all the moving parts straight.

“Since I now have my hands on both places, I can now hopefully make it as efficient as possible,” she said. “Everyone is so dedicated. And everyone loves what they do. I think that really shows in what we produce every day.”

Since Vanderhoff joined Mercury right before the Restoring Honor events in Washington D.C. in 2010, she wasn’t fully in the trenches, but by the time the 2011 Restoring Courage events came along, Vanderhoff would not only be in Israel, she would be forgoing sleep and her sanity for a week.

“It’s funny because I love talking about Israel with people because everyone has such a different vision of what it was,” she said. “Some people are like, ‘Oh my God it was so beautiful, and I saw the most amazing things.’ I saw a control room, and a hotel room, and that was it. But it is still – I will always say this – the best experience of my professional career. Hands down.”

For Vanderhoff, who had never left the United States and didn’t speak the language, figuring out how to manage her staff in a foreign country with limited resources was not an easy task. “The stuff that we did there just blows my mind because we were operating off road Macs, laptops, and we had hard drives linked to each other, and that’s what we edited off of. That’s what we used, and it didn’t blow up. As soon as I touched down until the moment we left, it was just go, go, go, go, go,” she said.

She became somewhat of a dispatcher over the course of the trip – sending crews X, Y, and Z to points A, B, and C to capture stories and then return to the hotel that was serving as the makeshift production studio.

“We did capture these really amazing stories. And then we would come back. And we called our home base the Frat House because that is what it became,” Vanderhoff said. “It was just all of us in this one beautiful room, but all on top of each other, ingesting media, breaking it down, putting it together, and there were just a lot of sleepless nights. A lot.”

The majority of the GBTV (now TheBlaze) staff flew back to New York on the day before Hurricane Irene was set to hit the east coast. It was a mad dash back to the city because GBTV was set to launch in just two weeks. “We got home from Israel that Friday and there was a hurricane coming. I was on the ground a few hours before my building got evacuated,” Vanderhoff recalled. “I still hadn’t slept.”

Her instinct was to drive to her mother’s home in Pompton Lakes, New Jersey. While the town floods often, her mother’s home hadn’t flooded in many years. Because she was concerned about not being able to get back to the city for work on Monday, Vanderhoff decided to go to safer ground.

“I called my Mom and said that I really didn’t want to come over in case the towns around her are flooding – we are launching a network, I am going to need to get to work. I went to my Aunt’s house in Clifton, New Jersey instead. For the first time in half a century, my Mom’s house actually flooded. It actually flooded very badly. It was a scary situation,” she explained.

“I remember after the storm passed, everyone was like ‘That was it. That was no big deal,’” she continued. “My hometown was devastated. My hometown is still devastated. There are still dozens of houses on each block for sale. There are three or four houses on each street that are completely abandoned. At the height of it, it was four to five feet of water in our house. My Mom had to get rescued by the National Guard.”

Vanderhoff and her fiancé went to pick her mother and brother up from the Red Cross drop off location. “I said to her, ‘Mom, I am coming to get you. You have to leave.’ My fiancé and I found these back roads and mountains and finally got to the Red Cross drop off point. She and my brother had to get onto a National Guard boat, which brought her to a Humvee, which brought her to the Red Cross center. At the Red Cross, my fiancé and I were setting up beds and cots and helping organize the kids because it was shear chaos. So it always bothered me when people said, ‘Oh nothing happened’ because my hometown is devastated. That was really hard.”

She brought her family back to her apartment and called several people at Mercury to let them know she wouldn’t be at work on Monday because she would be on the phone with insurance companies and the like.

“That actually brings me to my favorite Glenn story,” Vanderhoff said. “Glenn was the first person from Mercury to call me. I had finally gone to sleep, so of course I missed his first call. I was just passed out on my couch. When I woke up he called again, and I answered the phone, and it was Glenn asking if I was okay, if my family was okay. I very emotionally told him everything that happened, and the love that I felt from him was just - I can’t even explain it.”

“I have always said he is the best boss in the world, but he really showed that Mercury is more than just a workplace. It is a family,” she said emotionally. “He literally said anything that I need – if my family needs a place to stay, let him know, he will help set it up; if they need clothes; if they need food; if they need anything. And it was just the outpouring of kindness that Glenn and Tania showed us those first couple of days. It was just – I get emotional even thinking about it still. At that time I had only been at Mercury for a year, and I had gotten to know Glenn, but not really on a personal level, so the fact that he took the time out and did that just means everything.”

Glenn then asked Vanderhoff if he could speak with her mother. “He called my mom and sat on the phone for a while – 30 or 45 minutes. And we all know what Glenn’s schedule is like, so the fact that he was able to do that. He had never met my mother, and they actually prayed together on the phone, which I know was a very special moment for my Mom. To this day she adores Glenn, and not just because of what he does, but because of the person that he is.”

“It is a small story, and people could say that it doesn’t say much, but it meant so much,” Vanderhoff said. “I think it shows Glenn’s heart and what this company means to him and what his employees mean to him. To me that sums up Glenn Beck.”

Vanderhoff made it back to work not too long after that, just in time for the launch of GBTV. “It was so crazy leading up to the launch of GBTV. Since all of our efforts were focused on Israel for so long, we came back and we had never done any of the things we were trying to do,” she said.

What is often taken for granted at a major network was now the responsibility of Vanderhoff and her team. “That’s what was so interesting,” she said. “We were producing a better looking TV show than anything on the major networks with paper and glue. Like that is essentially what we had.”

The network has grown substantially since those first couple of days, and as it continues to grow so too does the staff and, therefore, the scope of Vanderhoff’s job. But if past performance is any indication, it looks like everything will be just fine.

“As crazy as it is, I love it,” Vanderhoff said smiling. “And that is one of my favorite things about Mercury in general – you constantly have this feeling of purpose and know that none of your efforts are being wasted. Everything you are doing is for a reason. You go crazy getting to that reason, but you know what the goal is. And seeing it come together is so satisfying.”

A Sharia enclave is quietly taking root in America. It's time to wake up.

NOVA SAFO / Staff | Getty Images

Sharia-based projects like the Meadow in Texas show how political Islam grows quietly, counting on Americans to stay silent while an incompatible legal system takes root.

Apolitical system completely incompatible with the Constitution is gaining ground in the United States, and we are pretending it is not happening.

Sharia — the legal and political framework of Islam — is being woven into developments, institutions, and neighborhoods, including a massive project in Texas. And the consequences will be enormous if we continue to look the other way.

This is the contradiction at the heart of political Islam: It claims universal authority while insisting its harshest rules will never be enforced here. That promise does not stand up to scrutiny. It never has.

Before we can have an honest debate, we’d better understand what Sharia represents. Sharia is not simply a set of religious rules about prayer or diet. It is a comprehensive legal and political structure that governs marriage, finance, criminal penalties, and civic life. It is a parallel system that claims supremacy wherever it takes hold.

This is where the distinction matters. Many Muslims in America want nothing to do with Sharia governance. They came here precisely because they lived under it. But political Islam — the movement that seeks to implement Sharia as law — is not the same as personal religious belief.

It is a political ideology with global ambitions, much like communism. Secretary of State Marco Rubio recently warned that Islamist movements do not seek peaceful coexistence with the West. They seek dominance. History backs him up.

How Sharia arrives

Political Islam does not begin with dramatic declarations. It starts quietly, through enclaves that operate by their own rules. That is why the development once called EPIC City — now rebranded as the Meadow — is so concerning. Early plans framed it as a Muslim-only community built around a mega-mosque and governed by Sharia-compliant financing. After state investigations were conducted, the branding changed, but the underlying intent remained the same.

Developers have openly described practices designed to keep non-Muslims out, using fees and ownership structures to create de facto religious exclusivity. This is not assimilation. It is the construction of a parallel society within a constitutional republic.

The warning from those who have lived under it

Years ago, local imams in Texas told me, without hesitation, that certain Sharia punishments “just work.” They spoke about cutting off hands for theft, stoning adulterers, and maintaining separate standards of testimony for men and women. They insisted it was logical and effective while insisting they would never attempt to implement it in Texas.

But when pressed, they could not explain why a system they consider divinely mandated would suddenly stop applying once someone crossed a border.

This is the contradiction at the heart of political Islam: It claims universal authority while insisting its harshest rules will never be enforced here. That promise does not stand up to scrutiny. It never has.

AASHISH KIPHAYET / Contributor | Getty Images

America is vulnerable

Europe is already showing us where this road leads. No-go zones, parallel courts, political intimidation, and clerics preaching supremacy have taken root across major cities.

America’s strength has always come from its melting pot, but assimilation requires boundaries. It requires insisting that the Constitution, not religious law, is the supreme authority on this soil.

Yet we are becoming complacent, even fearful, about saying so. We mistake silence for tolerance. We mistake avoidance for fairness. Meanwhile, political Islam views this hesitation as weakness.

Religious freedom is one of America’s greatest gifts. Muslims may worship freely here, as they should. But political Islam must not be permitted to plant a flag on American soil. The Constitution cannot coexist with a system that denies equal rights, restricts speech, subordinates women, and places clerical authority above civil law.

Wake up before it is too late

Projects like the Meadow are not isolated. They are test runs, footholds, proofs of concept. Political Islam operates with patience. It advances through demographic growth, legal ambiguity, and cultural hesitation — and it counts on Americans being too polite, too distracted, or too afraid to confront it.

We cannot afford that luxury. If we fail to defend the principles that make this country free, we will one day find ourselves asking how a parallel system gained power right in front of us. The answer will be simple: We looked away.

The time to draw boundaries and to speak honestly is now. The time to defend the Constitution as the supreme law of the land is now. Act while there is still time.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

Why do Americans feel so empty?

Mario Tama / Staff | Getty Images

Anxiety, anger, and chronic dissatisfaction signal a country searching for meaning. Without truth and purpose, politics becomes a dangerous substitute for identity.

We have built a world overflowing with noise, convenience, and endless choice, yet something essential has slipped out of reach. You can sense it in the restless mood of the country, the anxiety among young people who cannot explain why they feel empty, in the angry confusion that dominates our politics.

We have more wealth than any nation in history, but the heart of the culture feels strangely malnourished. Before we can debate debt or elections, we must confront the reality that we created a world of things, but not a world of purpose.

You cannot survive a crisis you refuse to name, and you cannot rebuild a world whose foundations you no longer understand.

What we are living through is not just economic or political dysfunction. It is the vacuum that appears when a civilization mistakes abundance for meaning.

Modern life is stuffed with everything except what the human soul actually needs. We built systems to make life faster, easier, and more efficient — and then wondered why those systems cannot teach our children who they are, why they matter, or what is worth living for.

We tell the next generation to chase success, influence, and wealth, turning childhood into branding. We ask kids what they want to do, not who they want to be. We build a world wired for dopamine rather than dignity, and then we wonder why so many people feel unmoored.

When everything is curated, optimized, and delivered at the push of a button, the question “what is my life for?” gets lost in the static.

The crisis beneath the headlines

It is not just the young who feel this crisis. Every part of our society is straining under the weight of meaninglessness.

Look at the debt cycle — the mathematical fate no civilization has ever escaped once it crosses a threshold that we seem to have already blown by. While ordinary families feel the pressure, our leaders respond with distraction, with denial, or by rewriting the very history that could have warned us.

You cannot survive a crisis you refuse to name, and you cannot rebuild a world whose foundations you no longer understand.

We have entered a cultural moment where the noise is so loud that it drowns out the simplest truths. We are living in a country that no longer knows how to hear itself think.

So people go searching. Some drift toward the false promise of socialism, some toward the empty thrill of rebellion. Some simply check out. When a culture forgets what gives life meaning, it becomes vulnerable to every ideology that offers a quick answer.

The quiet return of meaning

And yet, quietly, something else is happening. Beneath the frustration and cynicism, many Americans are recognizing that meaning does not come from what we own, but from what we honor. It does not rise from success, but from virtue. It does not emerge from noise, but from the small, sacred things that modern life has pushed to the margins — the home, the table, the duty you fulfill, the person you help when no one is watching.

The danger is assuming that this rediscovery happens on its own. It does not.

Reorientation requires intention. It requires rebuilding the habits and virtues that once held us together. It requires telling the truth about our history instead of rewriting it to fit today’s narratives. And it requires acknowledging what has been erased: that meaning is inseparable from God’s presence in a nation’s life.

Harold M. Lambert / Contributor | Getty Images

Where renewal begins

We have built a world without stillness, and then we wondered why no one can hear the questions that matter. Those questions remain, whether we acknowledge them or not. They do not disappear just because we drown them in entertainment or noise. They wait for us, and the longer we ignore them, the more disoriented we become.

Meaning is still available. It is found in rebuilding the smallest, most human spaces — the places that cannot be digitized, globalized, or automated. The home. The family. The community.

These are the daily virtues that do not trend on social media, but that hold a civilization upright. If we want to repair this country, we begin there, exactly where every durable civilization has always begun: one virtue at a time, one tradition at a time, one generation at a time.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

A break in trust: A NEW Watergate is brewing in plain sight

Gary Hershorn / Contributor | Getty Images

When institutions betray the public’s trust, the country splits, and the spiral is hard to stop.

Something drastic is happening in American life. Headlines that should leave us stunned barely register anymore. Stories that once would have united the country instead dissolve into silence or shrugs.

It is not apathy exactly. It is something deeper — a growing belief that the people in charge either cannot or will not fix what is broken.

When people feel ignored or betrayed, they will align with anyone who appears willing to fight on their behalf.

I call this response the Bubba effect. It describes what happens when institutions lose so much public trust that “Bubba,” the average American minding his own business, finally throws his hands up and says, “Fine. I will handle it myself.” Not because he wants to, but because the system that was supposed to protect him now feels indifferent, corrupt, or openly hostile.

The Bubba effect is not a political movement. It is a survival instinct.

What triggers the Bubba effect

We are watching the triggers unfold in real time. When members of Congress publicly encourage active duty troops to disregard orders from the commander in chief, that is not a political squabble. When a federal judge quietly rewrites the rules so one branch of government can secretly surveil another, that is not normal. That is how republics fall. Yet these stories glided across the news cycle without urgency, without consequence, without explanation.

When the American people see the leadership class shrug, they conclude — correctly — that no one is steering the ship.

This is how the Bubba effect spreads. It is not just individuals resisting authority. It is sheriffs refusing to enforce new policies, school boards ignoring state mandates, entire communities saying, “We do not believe you anymore.” It becomes institutional, cultural, national.

A country cracking from the inside

This effect can be seen in Dearborn, Michigan. In the rise of fringe voices like Nick Fuentes. In the Epstein scandal, where powerful people could not seem to locate a single accountable adult. These stories are different in content but identical in message: The system protects itself, not you.

When people feel ignored or betrayed, they will align with anyone who appears willing to fight on their behalf. That does not mean they suddenly agree with everything that person says. It means they feel abandoned by the institutions that were supposed to be trustworthy.

The Bubba effect is what fills that vacuum.

The dangers of a faithless system

A republic cannot survive without credibility. Congress cannot oversee intelligence agencies if it refuses to discipline its own members. The military cannot remain apolitical if its chain of command becomes optional. The judiciary cannot defend the Constitution while inventing loopholes that erase the separation of powers.

History shows that once a nation militarizes politics, normalizes constitutional shortcuts, or allows government agencies to operate without scrutiny, it does not return to equilibrium peacefully. Something will give.

The question is what — and when.

The responsibility now belongs to us

In a healthy country, this is where the media steps in. This is where universities, pastors, journalists, and cultural leaders pause the outrage machine and explain what is at stake. But today, too many see themselves not as guardians of the republic, but of ideology. Their first loyalty is to narrative, not truth.

The founders never trusted the press more than the public. They trusted citizens who understood their rights, lived their responsibilities, and demanded accountability. That is the antidote to the Bubba effect — not rage, but citizenship.

How to respond without breaking ourselves

Do not riot. Do not withdraw. Do not cheer on destruction just because you dislike the target. That is how nations lose themselves. Instead, demand transparency. Call your representatives. Insist on consequences. Refuse to normalize constitutional violations simply because “everyone does it.” If you expect nothing, you will get nothing.

Do not hand your voice to the loudest warrior simply because he is swinging a bat at the establishment. You do not beat corruption by joining a different version of it. You beat it by modeling the country you want to preserve: principled, accountable, rooted in truth.

Adam Gray / Stringer | Getty Images

Every republic reaches a moment when historians will later say, “That was the warning.” We are living in ours. But warnings are gifts if they are recognized. Institutions bend. People fail. The Constitution can recover — if enough Americans still know and cherish it.

It does not take a majority. Twenty percent of the country — awake, educated, and courageous — can reset the system. It has happened before. It can happen again.

Wake up. Stand up. Demand integrity — from leaders, from institutions, and from yourself. Because the Bubba effect will not end until Americans reclaim the duty that has always belonged to them: preserving the republic for the next generation.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

Grim warning: Bad-faith Israel critics duck REAL questions

Spencer Platt / Staff | Getty Images

Bad-faith attacks on Israel and AIPAC warp every debate. Real answers emerge only when people set aside scripts and ask what serves America’s long-term interests.

The search for truth has always required something very much in short supply these days: honesty. Not performative questions, not scripted outrage, not whatever happens to be trending on TikTok, but real curiosity.

Some issues, often focused on foreign aid, AIPAC, or Israel, have become hotbeds of debate and disagreement. Before we jump into those debates, however, we must return to a simpler, more important issue: honest questioning. Without it, nothing in these debates matters.

Ask questions because you want the truth, not because you want a target.

The phrase “just asking questions” has re-entered the zeitgeist, and that’s fine. We should always question power. But too many of those questions feel preloaded with someone else’s answer. If the goal is truth, then the questions should come from a sincere desire to understand, not from a hunt for a villain.

Honest desire for truth is the only foundation that can support a real conversation about these issues.

Truth-seeking is real work

Right now, plenty of people are not seeking the truth at all. They are repeating something they heard from a politician on cable news or from a stranger on TikTok who has never opened a history book. That is not a search for answers. That is simply outsourcing your own thought.

If you want the truth, you need to work for it. You cannot treat the world like a Marvel movie where the good guy appears in a cape and the villain hisses on command. Real life does not give you a neat script with the moral wrapped up in two hours.

But that is how people are approaching politics now. They want the oppressed and the oppressor, the heroic underdog and the cartoon villain. They embrace this fantastical framing because it is easier than wrestling with reality.

This framing took root in the 1960s when the left rebuilt its worldview around colonizers and the colonized. Overnight, Zionism was recast as imperialism. Suddenly, every conflict had to fit the same script. Today’s young activists are just recycling the same narrative with updated graphics. Everything becomes a morality play. No nuance, no context, just the comforting clarity of heroes and villains.

Bad-faith questions

This same mindset is fueling the sudden obsession with Israel, and the American Israel Public Affairs Committee in particular. You hear it from members of Congress and activists alike: AIPAC pulls the strings, AIPAC controls the government, AIPAC should register as a foreign agent under the Foreign Agents Registration Act. The questions are dramatic, but are they being asked in good faith?

FARA is clear. The standard is whether an individual or group acts under the direction or control of a foreign government. AIPAC simply does not qualify.

Here is a detail conveniently left out of these arguments: Dozens of domestic organizations — Armenian, Cuban, Irish, Turkish — lobby Congress on behalf of other countries. None of them registers under FARA because — like AIPAC — they are independent, domestic organizations.

If someone has a sincere problem with the structure of foreign lobbying, fair enough. Let us have that conversation. But singling out AIPAC alone is not a search for truth. It is bias dressed up as bravery.

Anadolu / Contributor | Getty Images

If someone wants to question foreign aid to Israel, fine. Let’s have that debate. But let’s ask the right questions. The issue is not the size of the package but whether the aid advances our interests. What does the United States gain? Does the investment strengthen our position in the region? How does it compare to what we give other nations? And do we examine those countries with the same intensity?

The real target

These questions reflect good-faith scrutiny. But narrowing the entire argument to one country or one dollar amount misses the larger problem. If someone objects to the way America handles foreign aid, the target is not Israel. The target is the system itself — an entrenched bureaucracy, poor transparency, and decades-old commitments that have never been re-examined. Those problems run through programs around the world.

If you want answers, you need to broaden the lens. You have to be willing to put aside the movie script and confront reality. You have to hold yourself to a simple rule: Ask questions because you want the truth, not because you want a target.

That is the only way this country ever gets clarity on foreign aid, influence, alliances, and our place in the world. Questioning is not just allowed. It is essential. But only if it is honest.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.