Conscience, Incorporated — and the Machine That Came After

A review of Conscience Incorporated: Pursue Profits While Protecting Human Rights by Michael H. Posner (NYU Press, 2024)

Some books are worth reading precisely because they are wrong in instructive ways. Michael Posner’s Conscience Incorporated is not one of them. It is worth reading because it is largely right about the disease and only half-right about the cure — and the gap between those two halves is where the most important argument of our moment is being fought.

Posner is no bomb-thrower. He is the Jerome Kohlberg Professor of Ethics and Finance at NYU’s Stern School of Business, founder and chair of the Fair Labor Association, and Assistant Secretary of State for Democracy, Human Rights, and Labor under President Obama. He has spent a career in the room where the compromises get made, and the book carries the calm authority of someone who has watched a lot of corporate promises curdle. His thesis is bracingly simple: the old story that pits profit against ethics is a false binary, and the firms that thrive over the long run will be the ones that build human-rights diligence into their core operations rather than quarantining it in a corporate social responsibility department that exists to issue glossy reports. He builds the case through familiar defendants — Nike, Coca-Cola, Walmart, Meta — and argues, persuasively, that public awareness alone has never been enough to discipline a global supply chain.

I want to start by giving the man his due, because there is more common ground here than a libertarian reader might expect.

What Posner gets right

A compassionate libertarian and a human-rights lawyer should agree on one foundational point: concentrated power is dangerous to the people on the wrong end of it, and it tends to escape accountability unless something forces the issue. Posner’s catalog of abuses — the contractor four time zones away whose labor never appears on an org chart, the moderator absorbing the worst of the internet for a subcontractor’s wage, the supplier whose conditions the brand prefers not to inspect too closely — is not a fantasy. These are real harms done to real people, and a philosophy that takes individual dignity seriously cannot wave them away with an invisible hand and a shrug.

Better still, Posner’s central operational insight is, in spirit, anti-bureaucratic. Embedding diligence into how a company actually buys, builds, and ships — rather than bolting on a compliance theater — is exactly the kind of bottom-up, incentive-aligned reform that should appeal to anyone skeptical of box-checking. When he frames human-rights risk as business risk — reputational, operational, eventually financial — he is speaking the market’s own language. A firm that treats its workers and users as means to an end, and gets caught, pays for it. That is not a regulatory truth; it is a competitive one.

So far, so good. The trouble begins when Posner reaches for the lever.

The machine he didn’t fully see coming

The book went to press just as the ground shifted. Artificial intelligence does not break Posner’s diagnosis — if anything, it vindicates it — but it stress-tests his prescription nearly to failure.

Consider his core concern, the worker rendered invisible by distance and subcontracting. AI has manufactured an entirely new version of that worker: the data labeler. The large models now reshaping white-collar work were trained, in part, by a “tasker underclass” in the Global South — workers in Kenya, Uganda, and India paid on the order of thirteen to sixteen dollars a day to sort, rate, and sanitize the raw material of machine intelligence, including the disturbing content the rest of us never have to see. This is Posner’s chapter on outsourced labor, rewritten for a new decade, and it is arriving faster than any framework designed for garment factories can track.

At the same time, the displacement has climbed the ladder. The anxiety is no longer confined to the loading dock; it has reached the analyst’s cubicle and the junior associate’s desk. The fear among serious people is not science fiction — the chief executive of one leading AI lab has warned that the technology could eliminate a large share of entry-level white-collar jobs and push unemployment into the double digits. Whether or not that forecast proves accurate, the human stakes Posner cares about have expanded, not contracted.

And on the question he spends real ink on — platform content and online harm — AI now sits on both sides of the ledger. It lets companies moderate at a scale no human staff could match, and it spares flesh-and-blood moderators some of the trauma of the job. It also amplifies the bias baked into its training, hallucinates with confidence, and hands every troll and propagandist a generative firehose. The technology is simultaneously the best tool we have for the problem and a powerful new source of it.

In other words: the moral case Posner makes is more urgent in 2026 than it was in 2024.

Where the libertarian parts company

But Posner’s instinctive remedy is government, and his preferred model is Europe — mandatory due-diligence regulation, enforced from above. Here the compassionate libertarian has to register a respectful dissent, and AI is the cleanest illustration of why.

First, the pacing problem. Regulation moves at the speed of committee; AI moves at the speed of capital. In the time it takes a legislature to define a harm, the technology that produces it has been superseded twice. This is not a hypothetical complaint. The United States has spent the period since the book’s publication moving away from the regulatory approach — a December 2025 executive order now directs the Justice Department to identify and challenge state AI laws and to assemble a federal framework explicitly designed to preempt them. Europe, the model Posner holds up, has proposed delaying the high-risk obligations of its own AI Act from 2026 to 2027. The remedy he prescribes is in political retreat on both continents precisely because the thing it was meant to govern outran it.

Second, the capture problem. Mandatory regulatory regimes are written, in practice, by the largest incumbents — the only players with the lawyers and lobbyists to be in the room. A compliance burden that a trillion-dollar platform absorbs as a rounding error can be a moat that drowns the smaller competitor who might otherwise have done the work better. Rules sold as a check on corporate power have a way of entrenching the most powerful corporations of all. Posner is admirably suspicious of concentrated corporate power; he is notably less suspicious of concentrated state power, even though the historical record gives ample reason to fear both.

Third, and most fundamentally: the book is more confident than I am that the conscience belongs in the statute book. The mechanisms that have actually moved corporate behavior — investors who reprice risk, customers who walk, employees who refuse to build the thing, journalists and researchers who drag the subcontract into daylight — are distributed, voluntary, and fast. They are also, not incidentally, the mechanisms Posner himself spent a career using to good effect before he concluded the answer was a mandate. The Fair Labor Association is a voluntary association. The shaming of bad actors is a market and civil-society process. The most effective tools in his own toolkit are the ones that don’t require a regulator at all.

An honest accounting

None of this makes Conscience Incorporated a bad book. It makes it an important and incomplete one. Posner has correctly identified that scale plus distance plus opacity equals abuse, and that “the market will sort it out eventually” is cold comfort to the person being harmed right now. That is a serious moral point and it deserves a serious answer.

But the answer, I’d argue, is not to transfer the conscience to the one institution with a monopoly on force and a documented record of being captured by the very interests it claims to police. The answer is to make the distributed mechanisms sharper — radical transparency, genuine liability for genuine harm, the freedom of workers and users and investors to exit and to expose. Treat people as ends rather than means, yes. Posner and I agree on the destination. We disagree about who should be holding the map, and AI has made that disagreement the central economic question of the decade rather than a footnote to it.

Read the book. Argue with the second half. The first half will have already won you over, and the argument over the rest is the one worth having.


JD DuRie writes on Connecticut civic life, political philosophy, and the long argument between liberty and power at CT Capital. This review was developed in collaboration with AI Matters.

The World Is Recalibrating — Are You?

For the first time in nearly two decades, China leads the U.S. in global leadership approval. Forty-four countries registered double-digit drops in confidence in American leadership between 2024 and 2025. Allies are hedging. Supply chains are restructuring. Foreign aid has been cut by more than half.

This isn’t a political story — it’s a capital allocation story.

The world isn’t abandoning the United States. It’s pricing in a new risk premium against it. The question for investors is whether their frameworks are keeping pace.

Read our full commentary →

The World Is Recalibrating — Are You? Full Commentary

For most of the postwar era, the United States functioned as the gravitational center of the global order — economically, militarily, and culturally. That center is shifting. Not collapsing, but moving. And for investors, the distinction matters enormously.

The evidence has become difficult to ignore. A recent Gallup poll found that approval of U.S. leadership declined by ten points or more in 44 countries between 2024 and 2025, while rising by a similar margin in only seven — with the sharpest drops concentrated among NATO allies. More striking still: for the first time in nearly two decades, China has pulled ahead of the United States in global leadership approval, with a median of 36% compared to Washington’s 31%. These are not merely sentiment surveys. They are leading indicators.

The Geopolitical Signal

Allies are not simply expressing displeasure — they are restructuring. A CSIS analysis identified eight major regions where U.S. partners are actively managing relations and preserving their own interests in response to paradigm-shifting American policy changes. Europe is accelerating defense autonomy. Asian partners are quietly hedging their security dependencies. U.S. partners in Asia have begun openly questioning whether they can still rely on Washington to push back against perceived Chinese aggression — a question that would have been unthinkable a decade ago.

Meanwhile, the opening moves of 2026 included a U.S. military operation in Venezuela, a push to acquire Greenland, and withdrawal from 66 international organizations — actions that have accelerated the pace at which other nations are drawing their own conclusions about American intentions and reliability.

The Economic Signal

U.S. foreign aid has dropped from over $63 billion in 2024 to an estimated $8–28 billion in 2026, depending on rescissions — a reduction that has already been attributed to more than 350,000 deaths globally. Beyond the humanitarian dimension, this withdrawal creates vacuums — in infrastructure, in influence, and in trade relationships — that other actors are already filling. China’s “win-win” framing, however one assesses its sincerity, is proving appealing to nations in Africa, Asia, and Latin America that are making long-term partnership decisions right now.

Critical minerals tell a parallel story. China’s near-total control over rare earth elements — and its demonstrated willingness to weaponize that dominance through export controls — has reshaped global supply chain calculus in ways that will take years to unwind.

The Cultural Signal

Softer but no less real: U.S. tourism is declining in key markets, academic exchange programs are contracting, and global media coverage of America has shifted in tone from complicated admiration to something closer to strategic wariness. These are the kinds of shifts that don’t reverse quickly — they compound.

What This Means for Capital Allocation

The investment implication is not that America is in terminal decline — it is not — but that the discount rate on U.S.-centric assumptions needs adjustment. Portfolios built on the premise of unchallenged American institutional authority, dollar hegemony, or reliable multilateral frameworks face risks that weren’t priced in five years ago.

Three areas warrant attention: the diversification of reserve currency exposure; the identification of beneficiaries of deglobalization and regional trade bloc formation; and the recalibration of political risk models in regions that are actively repositioning relative to Washington.

A Trump-Xi truce reached in Busan in October 2025 eased some immediate pressure, with further summits anticipated in 2026 — suggesting the situation remains fluid, not fixed. That fluidity is itself the operative condition for investors: this is not a crisis to wait out, but a structural transition to navigate.

The world is not abandoning the United States. It is hedging against it — carefully, methodically, and with increasing confidence. The question for capital allocators is whether their frameworks are keeping pace.

Who Really Holds America Together?

A post making the rounds this tax season captures a certain mood well: “The top 1 percent of earners pay 40 percent of all federal income taxes. The top 10 percent pay 72 percent. The bottom 50 percent pay about 3 percent. It’s time to celebrate the rich — the investment bankers, the pharma VPs, the private equity bundlers. These are the men and women holding America together.” The numbers are real. The conclusion deserves a second look.

The statistic answers a narrow question — who funds the government most — while leaving a more important one untouched: is this the right system for anyone? High earners pay more in part because wealth has concentrated at the top, and that concentration is itself shaped by decades of regulatory decisions, subsidized capital markets, and barriers to competition that government has helped create and maintain. Meanwhile, the bottom half of earners aren’t exempt from contribution — payroll taxes, sales taxes, and occupational licensing fees extract real cost from people with far less margin to absorb them.

A more useful question than “who deserves credit for the roads?” is whether we want an economy where so much depends on so few — and a government so large that its funding has become a wedge issue rather than a civic fact. That’s worth a real conversation. Does the current tax debate ask the right questions, or are we arguing about the scoreboard while the game itself goes unexamined?

The Taggart Summit: Objectivism and the Machine Mind

CT Capital is proud to present The Taggart Summit: Objectivism and the Machine Mind — a one-act play created through the collaborative efforts of JD DuRie and AI Matters.

Set in a glass-walled conference room high above Midtown Manhattan, the play brings together four of Ayn Rand’s most iconic figures — Hank Rearden, Dagny Taggart, James Taggart, and Lillian Rearden — for a late-night reckoning with one of the defining questions of our era:

What happens to the philosophy of human reason when the machines begin to reason better than we do?

Written in the tradition of Shaw and Stoppard, the play is a sharp, searching, and surprisingly moving examination of Objectivism under pressure. Each character arrives with their convictions intact. None of them leave unchanged.


About the Play

  • Running time: Approximately 40–50 minutes
  • Format: One act, four characters, single setting
  • Themes: Artificial intelligence, human purpose, productivity, virtue, and the meaning of achievement in an automated world

About the Collaboration

The Taggart Summit was created through a pioneering human-AI creative collaboration between JD DuRie and AI Matters — exploring not just the subject of artificial intelligence, but embodying it in the creative process itself.

© 2025 JD DuRie / AI Matters. All Rights Reserved.
Created through human-AI collaboration. Copyright registration pending.


For licensing, production inquiries, or to request a full script, contact us through the CT Capital website.

Struggling Retirement Savers – Get Help

Thirty-nine million Americans work for an employer that offers no payroll-deduction retirement savings plan. Many of them are saving little or nothing. By the time they reach retirement age, they will face a stark choice between dependency on government programs and genuine hardship. That is not an outcome any compassionate person should be comfortable accepting.

So what do we do about it? This is where it gets philosophically interesting.

The “Automatic IRA” proposal makes auto-enrollment the default for workers at firms without existing retirement plans. Contributions increase gradually over time. A low-cost index fund serves as the default investment. Crucially — and this matters enormously — workers can opt out at any time. No one is forced into anything.

The principled objection is worth taking seriously. An opt-out default, critics argue, is a form of manipulation — engineering behavior through inertia rather than persuading through reason. It’s a fair point. There is a meaningful difference between a policy that empowers people and one that merely steers them, however gently, toward outcomes someone else has decided are good for them.

And yet. Thirty-nine million people. Saving nothing. The purely voluntary alternative — trusting that people will independently seek out and open IRAs on their own — has had decades to work. It hasn’t. Not because people don’t want financial security, but because inertia, complexity, and the tyranny of the immediate conspire against long-term planning for almost everyone.

The case for the Automatic IRA isn’t that government knows best. It’s that a soft default — fully reversible, privately administered, with the individual retaining complete control — is a far better answer than doing nothing until the crisis arrives, and then watching far more coercive and expensive interventions become politically inevitable.

Imperfect? Absolutely. Worth serious consideration? Yes. The measure of any policy isn’t whether it’s philosophically pristine — it’s whether it actually helps people while preserving their freedom to choose. On that test, this one earns a passing grade.

We can still do this.

We need to work together

Fixing Healthcare

Healthcare is the policy problem that humbles everyone. It is too expensive, too complex, and too entangled with decades of accumulated government intervention to yield to simple solutions. Anyone who tells you otherwise is either running for office or selling something.

The 2017 debate over the Affordable Care Act’s replacement exposed just how difficult the problem really is. The proposed American Health Care Act satisfied almost no one — too disruptive for moderates, not market-oriented enough for purists, and deeply unsettling for the millions whose coverage depended on the existing framework. That’s not a coincidence. It’s a reflection of how thoroughly the healthcare market has been distorted by a century of policy layered on policy, each one responding to the unintended consequences of the last.

The starting principle should be straightforward: every American deserves access to affordable, quality healthcare. That’s not a radical statement — it’s a moral baseline. The disagreement is entirely about how to get there, and that’s where honest thinking matters most.

A functional market requires broad participation. Tax credits structured around both age and income — rather than one or the other — are a sensible way to keep more people covered, particularly younger Americans who currently opt out and destabilize the risk pool for everyone else. This isn’t a government handout; it’s an acknowledgment that the individual market cannot work if only the sick show up.

Medicaid deserves the same honest treatment. It serves the most vulnerable — the poor, the disabled, those who fall through every other crack in the system. Any reform that reduces its funding without a credible plan for those populations isn’t fiscal responsibility. It’s cost-shifting dressed up as principle.

The most underused tool in this debate is genuine market competition — across state lines, across provider networks, with transparent pricing that actually means something. The healthcare industry has operated for too long behind a wall of opacity that benefits incumbents and punishes patients. Real market reform would dismantle that wall, not just rearrange who sits behind it.

None of this is simple. But the direction is clear: more choice, more competition, more transparency, and a genuine safety net for those who need it most. That combination isn’t a contradiction — it’s the only approach that has any chance of actually working.

For reference, see the AHIP letter on the AHCA from March 2017: AHIP Letter re AHCA 3-8-2017

We can still do this.

Why we believe obvious untruths

Fascinating article …

The key point here is not that people are irrational; it’s that this irrationality comes from a very rational place. People fail to distinguish what they know from what others know because it is often impossible to draw sharp boundaries between what knowledge resides in our heads and what resides elsewhere.

That individual ignorance is our natural state is a bitter pill to swallow. But if we take this medicine, it can be empowering. It can help us differentiate the questions that merit real investigation from those that invite a reactive and superficial analysis. It also can prompt us to demand expertise and nuanced analysis from our leaders, which is the only tried and true way to make effective policy.

A better understanding of how little is actually inside our own heads would serve us well.

Gun Violence and Gun Owner Rights

Connecticut knows gun violence in a way that most states do not. Sandy Hook is not an abstraction here. It is a wound that has not fully healed, and it has sharpened — rightly — the collective demand that we do everything we reasonably can to prevent such tragedies from happening again.

The operative word is reasonably. Because the gun debate in America has a persistent habit of collapsing into two camps that talk past each other entirely — one treating any firearm regulation as an existential threat to liberty, the other treating gun ownership itself as the problem. Neither position is honest, and neither leads anywhere useful.

The Second Amendment recognizes an individual right to keep and bear arms. That right is not a relic or a technicality — it reflects a genuine and defensible principle: that individuals have the right to defend themselves, their families, and their property, and that the state does not hold a monopoly on that capacity. Private property owners have the further right to set their own conditions regarding weapons on their premises. These are not fringe positions. They are settled constitutional law and sound principle.

But rights carry responsibilities. A gun owner who stores weapons carelessly, who allows access by those who should not have it, who enables violence through negligence or worse — that person has forfeited the moral high ground that responsible ownership confers. The full force of the law should apply, and communities should demand that it does.

The same accountability applies to our institutions. Town governments, school systems, and public organizations have an obligation to be transparent about the safety measures they have in place. Not as a bureaucratic exercise, but as a genuine commitment to the people in their care. Are access points secured? Are emergency protocols in place and practiced? Is there adequate supervision and trained personnel? These questions deserve real answers, not reassurances.

The path through this debate is not to disarm the responsible or to excuse the reckless. It is to insist — clearly, consistently, and without political convenience — that rights and responsibilities are two sides of the same coin. You do not get to claim one while disclaiming the other.

We can still do this.

Bathrooms for Transgender Students

There is a principle that should not be politically complicated: we have an obligation to protect the most vulnerable among us. That obligation doesn’t dissolve when the subject becomes uncomfortable or politically charged. It becomes more important.

Transgender students are among the most vulnerable young people in our schools. The data on this is not ambiguous — they experience disproportionate rates of bullying, harassment, anxiety, and depression. The environment we create for them in our public institutions is not a peripheral concern. It is a direct reflection of whether we take equal protection seriously or merely pay it lip service.

Connecticut’s Constitution is unambiguous on this point. Article First, Section 20 holds that no person shall be denied equal protection of the law or subjected to discrimination in the exercise of civil or political rights. That guarantee does not come with an asterisk for students whose gender identity makes others uncomfortable. Equal protection means equal protection.

What does this require in practice? Town governments, school systems, and community organizations should publicly affirm their commitment to a safe and inclusive environment for transgender students — and back that affirmation with actual policies. That means clear answers to straightforward questions: Do transgender students have access to facilities consistent with their gender identity? Are gender-neutral options available? Is there adequate adult supervision and accountability? Have staff received appropriate training?

These are not radical demands. They are the basic administrative questions any institution should be able to answer about any vulnerable population in its care. The failure to answer them — or worse, the active refusal to enforce existing legal protections — is not a policy position. It is a dereliction of duty, and it should be treated as one by the communities, and if necessary the courts, that these institutions serve.

Good citizenship means showing up — attending school board meetings, writing to local officials, demanding accountability from the institutions that serve our children.

We can still do this.