"I think capitalism is a good thing, but I think what we need to contend with and be aware of is that a lot of people are not part of it," Tarek Mansour, co-founder and CEO of prediction market platform Kalshi, recently told Reason's Nick Gillespie. "They don't feel like they're part of it. And that's a reality."

Mansour has set out to change that by making it easier for consumers to experience and participate in financial markets. Kalshi's premise is simple: Mansour says the platform matches traders with differing opinions on the outcome of future events, aggregating the "bits and pieces of information" siloed across the country, so long as that information isn't privileged or obtained illegally.

He's up against a rising number of federal and state lawmakers—not to mention the NFL, traditional sportsbooks, casinos, and other regulated gambling operations—who view Kalshi as yet another gambling app. "As of early 2026, more than 20 lawsuits and cease-and-desist actions are pending across the country, filed by state attorneys general, gaming regulators, tribal governments and private plaintiffs," according to the National Conference of State Legislatures. This includes Utah, whose attorney general, Derek Brown, escalated an ongoing legal dispute with Kalshi on Tuesday by filing a complaint against the prediction market in state district court. In his complaint, Brown called Kalshi an "unconscionable and illegal gambling operation." He accused the company of engaging in a "brazen pattern of unlawful conduct."

At the federal level, Bloomberg Law reported last Friday that Sen. Ted Cruz (R–Texas) is preparing to introduce a bill after the midterm elections that would give state and tribal governments authority to regulate sports-related event contracts offered by prediction markets. 

Cruz's state-by-state regulatory regime is exactly the kind of scheme Mansour wants lawmakers to avoid. Mansour recently told Reason that, ideally, there'd be a "federal uniform set of rules that apply across all 50 states." Those rules would then "promote and foster" a "multilateral, peer-to-peer idea," where, for example, someone in California, Oregon, or Washington could trade on an event's outcome based on information supplied by someone in Texas.

Data from the Pew Research Center show Kalshi is incredibly popular nationwide; however, the platform is facing headwinds in Congress from the likes of Reps. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (D–N.Y.) and  James Comer (R–Ky.) and Sens. Adam Schiff (D–Calif.) and John Curtis (R–Utah), who have questioned whether prediction market platforms can indeed self-police insider trading and market manipulation. 

Mansour, who calls insider trading an "unfair dynamic that over time dries up liquidity," also argues that prediction markets are uniquely positioned to self-regulate because trades on Kalshi are "fully transparent," making it "easy to flag" suspicious trading patterns. The platform's users play a key role in that work. Mansour says that in February, when convicted fraudster and former Rep. George Santos (R–N.Y.) tried to engage in insider trading, Kalshi received "a hundred whistleblower complaints within a few minutes."

The company's public commitment to rooting out insider trading on its platform may be laudable. Still, it has done little to dispel the prevailing sentiment among state and federal regulators that Kalshi—and prediction market platforms writ large—is indistinguishable from traditional gambling markets. 

Indeed, the legal cases against Kalshi are centered on state regulators' belief that the platforms' sports event contracts are the same as the bets offered by legal gambling operations like casinos and sportsbooks. Kalshi has argued that the U.S. Commodity Futures Trading Commission has exclusive jurisdiction to regulate the kinds of contracts it can offer under federal law, preempting states from exercising any gambling authority over prediction markets. 

In March, Arizona became the first state to file criminal charges against Kalshi. Arizona Attorney General Kris Mayes accused the company of "running an illegal gambling operation and taking bets on Arizona elections, both of which violate Arizona law." Not everyone in the state shares Mayes' view. One Arizona resident, Zach, a 35-year-old man who makes a living trading sports-related event contracts on prediction markets, tells Reason he'd "move to another state" if Arizona succeeds in driving out prediction markets. 

"There's nothing that is excluding other people from the profits that I'm making right now," he says. "I'm under no obligation to bet on Monday Night Football….I'm able to look at all the markets and decide which ones I want; I'm setting a limit order and just saying, 'OK, if I get my price, then hooray.' If I don't, then that's not something that I add to my portfolio."

Of course, not everyone acts as responsibly. Mansour knows that in any competition, including trading, "some people are going to win," while "some people lose." He believes in "individual freedom" and in the idea that "people should be able to choose" which financial markets they engage in, with "some regulations on irresponsible use" so that companies can't target people who exhibit addictive or destructive betting patterns. 

The degree to which Kalshi and other prediction market platforms should be regulated will likely be a high priority for federal lawmakers after the midterm elections and in the next Congress. Mansour appears optimistic that there's enough bipartisan support for what he calls "sensible guardrails." He says there's a "big group" on both sides of the aisle that's "actually pro" prediction market platforms. There's reason to be skeptical of Mansour's claim, given that several members of Congress—such as Sen. Elizabeth Warren (D–Mass.), the ranking Democrat on the Senate Banking Committee—have said prediction markets need to be reined in.

In Mayes' case, her antipathy toward prediction markets might cost her at least one vote in Arizona's attorney general race. Zach says that with Mayes waging a legal battle against Kalshi, he'd have to take that into account "hypothetically, if someone knocked on my door tonight and they want me to vote for Kris Mayes to be reelected."

"If I'm not gonna vote on my own behalf, then who is, right?" he says. (Mayes might not be a fan of Kalshi, but with the platform's penchant for accurately predicting election winners, she can take solace in her current trading position, which shows an 84 percent chance she retains her position.)

Mansour says he's a "free market guy" who wants everyone to "have a shot in the competition." To succeed, he'll have to withstand a host of paternalistic government officials hell-bent on controlling financial decisions made by consenting adults.

The post Kalshi's CEO Wants 1 Set of Rules. The States Want 50. appeared first on Reason Magazine.

Determined to bring home gold and make her family and country proud, Fatima Hassan stepped into the ring for the final fight of the Muay Thai world championships in Kosovo last month.

Despite feeling unwell, the 27-year-old Lebanese fighter from Baalbek pushed through and launched a relentless attack in the final round. With just 30 seconds left, she delivered the decisive blow to secure her second gold medal of the competition.

Fatima had already won gold in the technical discipline before claiming the title in the main Muay Thai competition, making her the first Lebanese athlete to achieve the double at the IFMA Senior Muay Thai World Championships.

But the medals meant far more to her than sporting success. They represented years of dedication, her family's support, and her determination to prove that women can thrive in a sport long dominated by men.

"Honestly, I'd never been as happy as I was then. I'd worked towards this dream for so long," Fatima tells The New Arab. 

Discovering what she loved

Fatima's father introduced her to sport at a young age, encouraged her to try different activities, and taught her the basics of self-defence. She eventually joined a gym near his workplace, where she discovered Muay Thai.

"I didn't really know much about it at the time. They told me it was a nice sport and encouraged me to try it. I went, tried it and loved it," she continues. 

At first, she had no ambitions to compete. She simply enjoyed training, but her coaches soon noticed her skills and encouraged her to enter her first competition.

"It hadn't even crossed my mind. I wasn't interested in fighting or hitting people. I didn't like that sort of thing," she recalls. 

Her father encouraged her to try it, and after watching another Lebanese female fighter compete, Fatima decided to take the plunge.

She won all three of her first fights, giving her the confidence to pursue Muay Thai more seriously.

But not everyone understood her choice.

As a woman who wears the hijab, Fatima encountered comments from people who considered combat sports unsuitable for girls.

"As long as my father was happy with what I was doing and supporting me, I didn't care what society said or what anyone else thought," Fatima says.

"People would say it was a sport for boys, that I was behaving like a boy, or ask how I could play such a sport when it wasn't meant for girls. But none of it affected me. I loved the sport, and that was what mattered."

Her family's acceptance also took time. Initially uncomfortable with the idea of her competing, they gradually came to understand the sport as they watched her train and fight.

Today, she says, they are among her biggest supporters.

Two gold medals

Fatima's road to the world championships was not straightforward. She had stopped competing for three years because of injuries, although she continued to train and teach Muay Thai.

When the opportunity to compete in Kosovo came along, she knew it was a chance to fulfil a dream she had pursued for years.

Despite her experience, she had only three months to prepare specifically for the tournament.

She worked with several coaches, sought help from a physiotherapist and a doctor, and focused on preparing mentally to return to competition.

She also followed a strict routine, running every day and keeping up with her exercises.

"I went there feeling comfortable and confident. I knew I wanted to come back with an achievement that reflected all the work I'd put in. I kept telling myself that I was going to compete, win and come back with the result I wanted," she tells The New Arab.

Fatima competed in two disciplines: the technical competition and traditional Muay Thai, the main IFMA discipline.

The technical category, in which she competed for the first time, focuses on speed, movement, and technique rather than full-force contact.

She secured her first gold medal there. But the moment she stepped up to receive it stayed with her most.

"When I saw the Lebanese flag being raised, it was a completely different feeling. I actually started crying. I felt such pride. I can't really explain what went through me, but I remember thinking: I want to experience this feeling again in the main competition," she says. 

The next day, she entered the main competition with a second gold medal in sight.

Friends and family back home followed her progress, while Lebanese and Arab supporters in Kosovo gathered to cheer on their athletes.

Fatima was also unwell. She had been sick for the three days leading up to the final, with a cough and difficulty breathing.

With each fight consisting of three three-minute rounds, she feared her condition could affect her performance.

"I knew this was my dream, and I was so close to achieving it. This was my last fight, and I had the chance to win a gold medal and make history for Lebanon," she shares. 

When she entered the ring, she put her trust in God and focused on the fight. She spent the first round assessing her opponent before becoming more aggressive in the second.

"I was exhausted and struggling to breathe, but I wasn't thinking about that. My mind was focused on winning. The adrenaline was carrying me through."

By the third round, Fatima had decided she needed to finish the fight. Seeing her opponent struggle, she kept attacking, landing powerful punches until she knocked her out with about 30 seconds remaining.

"I had fought over the previous four or five days, competing every day, and I had made it all the way to the final. I told myself that this last fight had to be mine, and I did it," she says.

The two gold medals culminated years of training, setbacks, and a dream she refused to abandon.

"Honestly, I'd never been as happy as I was then. I'd worked towards this dream for so long," she says.

"This was the final dream I had set for myself: winning a world championship."

The physical toll became clear after the fight. Fatima said she struggled to breathe for around three and a half hours after leaving the ring and remained unwell for about a week.

But her focus had been on bringing two gold medals home to Lebanon.

Fighting for recognition

For Fatima, the achievement also highlighted the challenges women athletes in Lebanon face, where she says support remains scarce and male athletes tend to receive more recognition.

"There is practically no support. If someone is able to support themselves, or if they find someone willing to support them, that's already a very good thing," she says.

"I have to be strong and fight for every single achievement I make. And I'm not just talking about one fight. I have to fight for everything."

She believes women are just as capable as men, but their achievements are too often overlooked.

"Look at what I've achieved. No male athlete has done what I've done in this particular category. A woman has achieved it. I'm the first Lebanese athlete to do this, and I think people should pay attention to that. Why shouldn't they recognise women as well?"

Fatima hopes her success will encourage other girls to pursue their ambitions without allowing social expectations or fear of criticism to hold them back.

"I want girls to believe in themselves and have confidence in themselves. Set yourself a goal and pursue your dream," she shares. 

"Whatever you do, people will criticise you. But when you succeed, everyone will applaud you and celebrate your achievement. So go after your dream and work towards it. Believe in yourself, have confidence, and give yourself the strength you need. If you do that, I promise you, you will achieve incredible things."

A win for Lebanon

Fatima's achievement carries particular meaning against the backdrop of years of conflict and uncertainty in Lebanon. She says many young people have struggled to imagine a future for themselves amid the country's difficulties.

"We've all felt at times that we can't do anything anymore, that we can't achieve our dreams or build our futures. I think all of us young people, girls and boys, have felt that," she tells The New Arab. 

We're trying to pursue our dreams, our goals and our futures, but then everything comes to a standstill because of what's happening in the country," she adds. 

Fatima says she eventually stopped following the news as closely, choosing instead to concentrate on her training and future.

"Despite everything we've been going through, I continued training and working towards my goals," she says.

"When I stood there and received the medals, I was overwhelmed. I tried not to cry because there were cameras around, but I felt that Lebanon deserved this. There is so much talent in Lebanon, and we are capable of achieving so much."

Looking ahead, Fatima hopes to fight one or two professional bouts, potentially competing for a title belt, before ending her competitive career.

She also plans to focus on architecture and develop her own gym, where she hopes to train a new generation of young fighters.

Louay Faour is a journalist at The New Arab focusing largely on the Levant, with a particular interest in Lebanese affairs

Follow him on X: @LouayFaour

The use of force against protesters, the detention of journalists and restrictions on movement and internet access in Delhi have raised serious questions about the measures taken by the Delhi Police.