There's a very revealing conversation online between Sam Harris and Ben Shapiro. To be honest, neither of them are on my list of favorite people, but I was curious to see where they might agree—or clash. I was both shocked… and not. Let me explain.
Right before Donald Trump took office, Sam and Ben had a debate of sorts. I saw the clips, the highlights, but Ben’s positions are hardly an enigma, so I didn’t dig too deep. More than a year later, they decided to revisit that conversation—a kind of political health check, if you will. Who was right? Who was wrong?
You would imagine—and this is where I was mentally—that neither would concede much of anything. After all, Ben is fairly dogmatic in his approach. That’s not an insult, just an observation.
But this is precisely where I was surprised.
Ben conceded… a lot.
He agreed that Trump was corrupt through and through. He admitted to the self-dealing, the scams, the clumsy handling of tariffs, and the broader damage to the economy during his presidency.
Naturally, you’d think that admitting all of this would lead to the obvious conclusion—that he regrets his vote. That’s been a bit of a trend lately. Tucker Carlson, Marjorie Taylor Greene, Megyn Kelly—the list keeps growing.
But no. Ben does no such thing.
Instead, he leans on an analogy—one that’s more revealing than I think he intended. He talks about hiring a plumber. The goal is simple: fix the toilet. The toilet, of course, stands in for policy. An interesting choice.
A subpar plumber might leave the house a mess—mud on the tiles, dirt everywhere—but in the end, the question is: did he fix the toilet?
That’s all that matters.
The analogy is both flawed and overly simplistic, but it gives Ben just enough room to bend what seems obvious into something resembling a logical defense. Sam pushes back. And I agree with him here—this plumber might not just fail to fix the toilet… he might destroy the entire house.
And this is where Ben surprised me for the first time in a long time.
Ben has never been one to express trust in government. If anything, it’s fair to say that the default conservative posture is distrust—skepticism toward an overbloated, often inept system. And yet, here he is, implicitly relying on that very system—its guardrails, its institutions—to contain what he himself acknowledges could be a political disaster.
So what are we left with?
As far as I can tell, the political engine isn’t running on principles—it’s running on fear.
One side fears that progressive policies will erode their understanding of values and morality. The other fears something far darker—a rebirth of authoritarianism, this time with an orange tint.
And despite all of this… my conclusion remains unchanged.
I see no reconciliation. No meaningful middle ground. No off-ramp. And certainly no dialectic that produces anything of value.
All I see are cycles of survival.
When one side holds power, the other braces for impact—hoping to survive the flames. Then the roles reverse, like clockwork.
And somewhere in the middle of it all, we’ve lowered the bar so much that acknowledging corruption is no longer disqualifying—it’s just… factored in.
The house is on fire.
The plumber admitted he might burn it down.
And we hired him anyway—because at least he talks confidently about toilets.
—MenO