In a huge loss for the medical-industrial complex and queer activism, the Supreme Court, in United States v. Skrmetti, in a 6–3 decision, upheld Tennessee’s law banning so called “gender-affirming” medical care for minors. In other words, medically-unnecessary and extreme body modification of minors will not resume in my home state. With this decision, the Court upheld the power of states to stop unwarranted medical practices on a vulnerable segment of the population. This is a major blow to the twisted project to manufacture simulated sexual identities—and a major victory for those fighting to set medicine on an objective scientific foundation.
Image generated by Sora
Predictably, major US medical groups—including the American Psychiatric Association and the Endocrine Society—released a joint statement expressing disappointment with the ruling: “Every patient should have access to the medical care they need.” Like lobotomies for impulse dysregulation? That’s the analogy. GAC involves the altering of physiology through drugs and hormones, amputation of healthy breasts, the mutilation of genitalia—none of which treat a disease but instead manufacture (rarely in a convincing fashion) the appearance of a gender the subject can never truly be. These harmful practices affirm a delusion rather than dealing with the delusion itself. In doing so, they create life-long medical patients worth billions of dollars to the medical industry.
This ban will save countless children a lot of misery and pain. But it will also put medical science back on the path to actually doing health care and not extreme body modifications for an ideological agenda. Twenty-five states have now enacted laws that restrict doctors from providing puberty blockers, hormone therapies or surgery to transgender minors. Two more, Arizona and New Hampshire, ban surgeries. With this decision, it is hoped more states will pass laws banning these practices. Even better would be federal law. And not just for minors. No doctor should be allowed to take advantage of the vulnerable.
The majority, led by Chief Justice Roberts, framed the issue not as one of discrimination, but of permissible state regulation of medical practices. The opinion emphasized that the law did not target transgender individuals based on their status or sex, but rather restricted certain medical procedures based on age and the nature of their use. Because of this framing, the Court applied the lowest level of constitutional review—rational basis—and found that Tennessee had legitimate state interests, such as protecting children from what it described as irreversible medical interventions.
Roberts further wrote that the Court’s role is not to judge the morality or wisdom of such legislative decisions, but only their constitutionality. In declining to treat the law as a form of sex discrimination, the majority rejected the application of heightened scrutiny, which would have required the state to show a more compelling justification for the ban. Concurring opinions from Justices Barrett and Thomas underscored skepticism about emerging medical consensus around “transgender care” and reiterated their views that courts should defer to legislatures, particularly in fast-evolving medical fields.
In her dissent, Justice Sotomayor, joined by Justices Jackson and Kagan, argued that the Tennessee law was plainly discriminatory and violated the Equal Protection Clause. Sotomayor pointed out that the law allows certain medical treatments for minors while denying them to minors who wrongly believe they are the other gender, making the discrimination both clear and sex-based. “Male (but not female) adolescents can receive medicines that help them look like boys, and female (but not male) adolescents can receive medicines that help them look like girls,” she wrote. Of course. Why would it be any other way?
Micropenis is a medical condition characterized by an abnormally small penis—typically defined as a stretched penile length more than 2.5 standard deviations below the average for age and sex. It is typically caused by insufficient testosterone exposure during fetal development or early childhood. Early medical intervention, especially during infancy or early childhood, can stimulate penile growth. This involves short courses of testosterone therapy, either through injections or topical application, which can significantly increase penile length if administered at the appropriate developmental stage. In some cases, additional treatments during puberty or adulthood may be considered, but the response is generally best when treatment is initiated early. Thus proper diagnosis and timely hormone therapy are crucial for both physical development and the psychological well-being of affected individuals.
A mother who chooses not to intervene in treating her son’s micropenis during childhood, perhaps believing the decision should be left to the child when he’s older, is ultimately doing him a disservice. While the intention to respect bodily autonomy may seem thoughtful to her (or perhaps virtuous if driven by gender ideology), it ignores the medical reality that effective treatment can only stimulate meaningful penile growth if begun in early childhood. Delaying care until the child is old enough to decide means missing the narrow window when intervention can make a real difference. In this case, the well-meaning but misguided idea of letting the child choose later removes that choice altogether. Proper parental care sometimes requires making difficult, time-sensitive decisions in the child’s best interest—especially when inaction leads to permanent consequences.
But administering testosterone to a girl? For what purpose? If giving testosterone to a boy with a micropenis is justified because it aligns with his biological development, then administering the same hormone to a girl—whose body is not deficient in testosterone and for whom such an intervention will fundamentally alter her natural development—stands on entirely different ground. That terrain is ideological, and preys on the false belief that girls can become boys. In this case, it’s not a corrective treatment but a deliberate disruption of healthy female development in pursuit of a gender identity that, like the choice deferred in the micropenis example, evolves over time.
Putting aside the impossibility of children changing genders, the logic that children should be left to decide later seems conveniently abandoned here—replaced by irreversible interventions made on the basis of subjective feelings rather than objective medical need. If bodily autonomy matters, it should matter in both directions. But unlike the boy with micropenis, the girl given testosterone loses not just a developmental window, but her unaltered path into adulthood—without ever having the chance to truly choose it. The same thing holds with puberty blockers—unless these are used to stop precocious puberty(an actual medical condition).
Sotomayor criticized the majority for failing to apply even intermediate scrutiny—typically used in cases involving sex discrimination—and for minimizing the harm done to transgender youth and their families. Her opinion warned that the ruling would open the door for further erosion of protections for LGBTQ+ individuals and that it sends a dangerous message that states can target vulnerable populations under the guise of neutral regulation. It’s rather embarrassing for a Supreme Court justice to make an argument this absurd.
Eithan Haim of Dallas, the whistleblower who exposed atrocities performed on underage patients at Texas Children’s Hospital in Houston, makes this analogy: “It would be like saying a patient without cancer but ‘identifies as having cancer’ is being discriminated against because a doctor is refusing to give them chemotherapy.” In effect, Sotomayor is arguing that upholding the Tennessee ban on administering chemotherapy to a person without cancer is denying that person “lifesaving medical treatment.”
It would be like saying a patient without cancer but "identifies as having cancer" is being discriminated against because a doctor is refusing to give them chemotherapy.
They have the audacity to claim the majority opinion "contorts logic" while they rely on anti-logic. pic.twitter.com/beAmZmAsoP
What the Court upheld was not discrimination, but discernment—the ability of a society to distinguish between treating a medical condition and indulging a psychological fiction with irreversible drugs and surgeries. The Tennessee law does not deny health care; it affirms that medical care must be grounded in biological reality and genuine pathology, not ideological fantasies. Children deserve protection from experimental interventions that yield lifelong consequences based on feelings that may change with time. Just as a parent is expected to act swiftly and wisely to correct a physical disorder like micropenis during a narrow developmental window, the same obligation should apply in preventing healthy children from being irreversibly harmed by ideologically driven procedures masquerading as medicine.
The Court’s decision validates a simple truth: that medicine must serve the body, not remake it in the image of delusional thinking and political belief.
On September 28, 1820, penned a letter to Thomas Jefferson to William Charles Jarvis. Jarvis was a public official from Massachusetts. He was part of the generation that came after the American Revolution and was concerned with preserving the values of republican government in the young United States.Jarvis wrote a book called A Republican Looking Glass for the Use of the New Generation of Republicans, wherein he expressed concern about political instability and emphasized the role of institutions—especially the judiciary—in preserving constitutional government.
“I feel an urgency to note what I deem an error in it, the more requiring notice as your opinion is strengthened by that of many others,” Jefferson writes. He takes issue with Jarvis’ argument that one should “consider the judges as the ultimate arbiters of all constitutional questions,” which he calls a “very dangerous doctrine.” How dangerous? If taken to heart it “one which would place us under the despotism of an Oligarchy.” Jefferson notes that “our judges are as honest as other men, and not more so.” As such, “they have, with others, the same passions for party, for power, and the privileges of their corps.” He recalled the maxim: boni judicis est ampliare jurisdictionem, which translates to “It is the duty of a good judge to enlarge his jurisdiction.” Jefferson notes that “their power the more dangerous as they are in office for life, and not responsible, as the other functionaries are, to the elective control.”
Jefferson goes on to argue that the Constitution didn’t create a single group to rule over everything. The Founders knew that if too much power were put in one place, even with good intentions, it would eventually become oppressive. Instead, they designed the three branches of government—legislative, executive, and judicial—to be equal and independent. He then gives examples: If Congress doesn’t pass laws it’s supposed to—like holding a census or creating a militia—the courts can’t force them to do it. If the President doesn’t appoint judges or sign commissions, the courts can’t order him to act either. Similarly, the President and Congress can’t order judges around. Each branch has its own job and can’t interfere with the others.
American judges, he argues, have overstepped their boundaries and tried to direct executive officials in their duties. But under our Constitution, each branch must stay in its own lane. Consider the currently onslaught of judicial actions against Trump’s handling of administrative affairs and immigration policy. The President is not obligated to observe the various injunctions imposed by a rogue judiciary. They have only the power to impose injunction—they have no power to impose them. Moreover, Congress has the power to limit the scope of their use—and even to dissolve courts, effectively removing judges (Lawfare Against the People Continues. When is Congress Going to Act?).
Jefferson admits that judges deal with constitutional issues more often because that’s part of their job, especially when it comes to contract and criminal law. But if the President or Congress acts unconstitutionally, they are held accountable by the voters—not by judges. To give judges the power to hold the President or Congress accountable gives the judiciary too much unchecked power.
Ultimately, Jefferson believes that the people themselves are the only safe guardians of power in a free society. If elites think they aren’t wise enough to make good decisions, the answer isn’t to take away their power but to educate them. That’s the real solution to abuses of constitutional authority.
Jefferson closes the letter with a observation about the future of the Republic, since this is Jarvis’ concern: “if the three powers maintain their mutual independence on each other, it may last long: but not so if either can assume the authorities of the other.”
Jefferson was hardly alone on this point. In this X post, Newt Gingrich lays out the sentiment of democrats and republicans. The speech was delivered at the Values Voters Summit on October 7, 2011. It describes in detail the ninth point in the 21st Century Contract with America, which states its objective as “Restoring the proper role of the judicial branch by using the clearly delineated powers available to the president and Congress to correct, limit, or replace judges who violate the Constitution.”
The Founding Fathers deeply distrusted judges. They thought the lawyer class was dangerous, and if given unbridled power they would undermine and destroy free society. pic.twitter.com/4s6o6uM4M8
The Rasmussen Reports daily Presidential Tracking Poll for Wednesday shows that 52 percent of likely US voters approve of President Trump’s job performance. Trump has been at or above 50 percent for weeks now. Rasmussen is one of America’s most accurate polling organizations.
I know that my almost daily sharing of this poll comes off to some as obnoxious—taunting those who can’t believe Trump still holds strong public support. But it shows how out of touch they are with the heartland—as well as demonstrating an ignorance of the way propaganda works.
The prevailing narrative—that Trump is deeply unpopular among the American people—is false. The narrative is an elite manufacture and endlessly repeated if for anything to entrench the attitudes of those already indoctrinated. That was the purpose of “No Kings Day,” which utterly failed to change public opinion, but reinforced existing attitudes that will prove useful for the next attempt to sway public opinion through the optics of big crowd.
The way the media covers Trump reflects an elite perspective—not a popular one. When you listen to the legacy media talk about Trump, you’re not hearing the voice of the public. You’re hearing from the propaganda wing of the corporate class—an elite that has long relied on Democrats to carry out its economic and political agenda. The media substitutes elite opinion for that of the people (this is true throughout Europe, where it is much more effective). This is more than just bias—it’s a deliberate strategy rooted in a century of thought about power and persuasion.
Antonio Gramsci, the Italian Marxist imprisoned by Mussolini, called this “ideological hegemony.” He argued that in advanced capitalist societies, power is maintained not just through coercion, but through elite corruption and shaping of common sense, culture, and norms. The corporate class doesn’t simply impose its will on the people (that’s messy and unsustainable); it makes its worldview and the interests it envelops feel inevitable, natural, and universal.
It does this through the work of intellectuals—people who articulate, justify, and spread ideology on behalf of the corporate class. Today, these intellectuals control academic, cultural, and media institutions. The worldview that issues from the country’s sense-making institutions is at odds with the reality on the ground. The people have seen this and it is hard to imagine they are ever going to return to the matrix.
Crucially, Gramsci distinguished between “traditional intellectuals” and “organic intellectuals.” The traditional intellectual—the academic, the priest, the scientist—presents themselves as neutral and objective, above class conflict. They truck in knowledge. Or so they claim. They at least maintain the appearance of detachment from politics. Yet they almost always serve the existing order by defining what counts as legitimate knowledge or respectable discourse within the general frame produced by the mode of production.
Karl Marx put this well the German Ideology: “The ideas of the ruling class are in every epoch the ruling ideas, i.e. the class which is the ruling material force of society, is at the same time its ruling intellectual force.” Marx continues: “The class which has the means of material production at its disposal has control at the same time over the means of mental production, so that thereby, generally speaking, the ideas of those who lack the means of mental production are subject to it.” Put another way, those who control the economic base also tend to dominate the ideological superstructure—through culture, education, and media. It’s a foundational idea that Gramsci later deepened with his theory of hegemony.
The organic intellectual, on the other hand, is embedded in a particular class and works to advance its interests. They are not necessarily working on the left or right, or from a particular class standpoint; there are organic intellectuals in both the capitalist class and the working class. What defines the organic intellectual is not their education or profession, but their function: they develop and spread the worldview of their class. They do not always pretend to be neutral or objective, and are openly engaged in the battle of ideas because they understand that the real political struggle is fought not only in elections and legislatures but in the hearts and minds.
As implied above, these are not mutually exclusive category. Organic intellectuals often masquerade as traditional intellectuals. That is, they present themselves as neutral and objective experts—academics, analysts, economists, physicians, scientists—whose authority supposedly derives from disinterested knowledge. But in reality, they are deeply embedded in the ideological machinery of a specific class. They deploy the language of objectivity and scientific rationality to advance political agendas, giving their class’s worldview the appearance of inevitability and truth.
This tactic is one of the most effective tools of hegemony: ideology cloaked in the robes of expertise. As a result, academic and media institutions can claim to be above politics while constantly reinforcing a very particular, very political vision of the world—one that protects existing power structures under the guise of “the facts.” Often, these functionaries genuinely believe in their own neutrality and objectivity, having themselves been thoroughly indoctrinated into the very ideology they unconsciously serve; their sincerity makes their authority even more effective and their influence more difficult to challenge.
In our current media environment, the columnists and pundits who claim to speak for “democracy” or “the rule of law” are, in Gramscian terms, the intellectuals of the professional-managerial and corporate classes. They frame Trump’s appeal and populism as a pathology—something irrational and dangerous. Their job is not to convey public opinion but to contain and distort it, to reassert ideological control over a population that is increasingly rejecting their consensus.
Noam Chomsky, decades later, called this mechanism “manufacturing consent”—a term he borrowed from Edward Bernays, the father of public relations and a proud propagandist. Bernays didn’t hide his contempt for democracy. He referred to the public as a “bewildered herd” that needed to be guided by an enlightened elite. He called this “engineering consent.” Gramsci, Chomsky, and Bernays were describing the same structure from different angles: a system where elite voices dominate the public sphere, not to reflect the will of the people but to corrupt, manage, and shape it.
So when you see a poll like Rasmussen’s—when over half of likely voters support a president the media insists is illegitimate, unelectable, or universally hated—you’re seeing a crack in the hegemony. You’re seeing that the people think for themselves. That doesn’t mean you have to agree with Trump or support him. But it does mean you should question the storyline that says his support is a fringe delusion. It isn’t. It’s a political fact that millions of Americans hold views that are completely alien to the worldview of the elite class—and that class responds not by reckoning with that reality, but by doubling down on its narrative, which is becoming more absurd with each new day. The public is becoming immune from propaganda, and a big part of this is the liberation of Twitter from corporate state control and the rise of “alternative” media (e.g., Steve Bannon, Tucker Carlson) close to the People.
Sharing these poll numbers isn’t about “owning the libs” (I’m a liberal, for the record). It’s about disrupting a system that pretends to speak for the people while systematically ignoring and misleading them. It’s about resisting a media and political apparatus that treats dissent as misinformation and populism as pathology. It’s about reclaiming the right of the people to define what is legitimate, normal, and possible—not according to the elite, but according to the people themselves.
In a letter from Thomas Jefferson to William Charles Jarvis in September 1820, the former President wrote, “I know no safe depository of the ultimate powers of the society, but the people themselves: and if we think them not enlightened enough to exercise their control with a wholesome discretion, the remedy is, not to take it from them, but to inform their discretion by education.”
Jefferson did not say ideology, indoctrination, or propaganda or whatever words were available at that time to conveys these forms of manipulation. He said education. From the tone of the letter, and context in which the letter was written, he does not mean education in public schools. He means that it’s the job of the representative to explain to his constituents why he has decided the course upon which he has set the district, state, or nation. And if the people disagree, they can take advantage of the next election to put another representative in his place.
Protest is a vital part of a free society. But when protesters block roads, surround vehicles, and threaten public order, it crosses the line from expression into coercion. At that point, it stops being protected speech and becomes an infringement on the rights and safety of others.
The police need to take proactive steps to address this problem. The role of the police is not to enable those engaged in lawless action, but to protect those subject to it. We cannot normalize the blocking of public roads by civilians, no matter how passionate their cause. But will the police act? Are citizens supposed to depend entirely on the police to protect their rights? Or are citizens entitled to take action in the absence or inaction of the police? Isn’t self-defense also a right?
The right to self-defense in the United States allows individuals to use reasonable force to protect themselves from imminent harm. Rooted in English common law, which heavily influenced American legal principles, this right permits force proportional to the threat, including deadly force when faced with a threat of death or serious bodily injury. In the US, self-defense is recognized as a legal justification for actions that would otherwise be criminal, with “castle doctrine” and “stand your ground” laws that expand the right to use force without a duty to retreat.
Peaceful expression is protected; physically obstructing critical infrastructure is not. Blocking roads interferes with a fundamental right in civil society: the right to travel freely and without interference. This isn’t merely a matter of convenience—it can be a matter of life and death. Someone may be trying to reach a hospital, get to work to support their family, or say goodbye to a dying parent. No protest—no matter how convinced protestors are of their righteousness—has the right to force innocent bystanders into unwilling participation by trapping them on the road.
Recall these words from the Declaration of Independence: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” The rights to self-defense and to travel unmolested by other civilians falls within these rights.
When protesters aggressively surround vehicles—yelling, pounding on hoods, refusing to let drivers pass—it creates an environment of fear and potential violence. This behavior is not harmless or mere symbolic acts. To the driver, it may feel indistinguishable from the beginning of an assault. The madness and unpredictability of crowds amplifies the threat: people have been pulled from vehicles before, as I will discuss below. Drivers caught in these situations cannot be expected to perfectly interpret the intentions of a chaotic, hostile crowd—the crowds can’t perfectly know what will be the results of their actions. There is the madness of crowds. Motorist may feel they have no option but to escape—even if that means driving forward.
Remember Reginald Denny, a truck driver who was viciously attacked by a mob during the 1992 Los Angeles riots? On April 29, while driving through South Central Los Angeles, Denny was pulled from his truck at the intersection of Florence and Normandie by a group of rioters. He was beaten severely—kicked, punched, and struck in the head with a cinder block—causing a fractured skull and permanent brain damage.
The attack was captured on live television and became one of the most infamous moments of the riots, symbolizing the breakdown of public order. Several assailants were later arrested and prosecuted, with Damian “Football” Williams receiving a conviction for mayhem. A lot of good that did Denny. He survived, but the attack left lasting physical and emotional scars.
Why didn’t Denny keep driving? Reginald Denny likely didn’t keep driving because he was unaware of the danger he was entering, stopped at a red light as any law-abiding driver would, and hesitated out of confusion or fear when suddenly surrounded. Reports suggest he was listening to music and not following the news, so he may not have known the riots had erupted. Once his truck was surrounded at the Florence and Normandie intersection, he may have feared harming someone by trying to drive through the crowd. In moments of high stress and uncertainty, hesitation is common—and tragically, that pause gave the mob time to drag him from the truck and beat him unconscious. Imagine if Denny had plowed through the murderous mob? His life would be very different—and those who sought to hurt them would have paid the price for actions.
The brutal beating of Reginald Denny LA Riots 1992
Forgetting Denny, those who defend the tactic of standing in the road will say, “But no one had actually attacked the driver.” They did in Denny’s case! And that’s not the only example. But that’s beside the point. Self-defense law does not require a person to wait until they are physically harmed to act. It requires that their perception of imminent harm be reasonable. And in situations where a person is trapped by a hostile group, shouting and blocking their path, that perception is not only reasonable—it’s entirely rational.
On June 2, 2020 a truck driver named Bogdan Vechirko was briefly jailed on assault charges after he nearly drove an 18-wheeler into a large group of protesters in Minneapolis. He was released a few days later without charges. No one was killed or seriously injured. But the video showed that Vechirko did not slow down his truck until he was far into the crowd of demonstrators. He’s lucky he did not wind up like Denny.
Post by Mark Staite
Only designated public officials—namely law enforcement—should have the legal authority to direct or halt vehicles on public roads. Allowing private citizens to take control of public space through intimidation or obstruction undermines the rule of law and endangers lives. Protesters are free to march, to chant, to speak—but they are not entitled to control the movements of others or endanger them in the process.
If a mob surrounds a vehicle, aggressively prevents it from moving, and the driver—fearing for their safety—continues driving to escape, the legal and moral responsibility for any injuries that occur lies first with those who created the threatening situation. Just as we teach children not to play in traffic, we should hold adults accountable for knowingly placing themselves and others in danger by occupying roadways. And, unlike children, adults know what they’re doing. The protestors know what they’re doing—until mob mentality dispossesses them of the capacity of reason, which does not mean they are not responsible for their actions.
There is a straightforward analogy here: if a man is walking down a sidewalk and is surrounded by others shouting at him, blocking his path, and refusing to let him leave, he is not obligated to guess their intent. He is being unlawfully detained and harassed. He had a reasonable belief that his life is in danger. If he defends himself or pushes through, most would agree he had a right to do so—at least they should, because his actions are rational and rooted in his unalienable rights. The same principle applies when a driver is encircled by an angry crowd. Threats don’t need to be acted upon to be real—and the right to defend oneself does not disappear simply because the aggressors claim political motives.
Protest is a right. Coercion, intimidation, and obstruction are not. Self-defense is a right. The state must draw that line clearly—before more people are endangered, and before citizens are forced to make life-or-death decisions without legal clarity or police protection. But must we wait for the state to defend us? How can we when political leaders and big money elites are construction, enabling, and encouraging the rabble? If only Denny had punched it he could have saved himself from a fractured skull and a life-long impairment of his speech and ability to walk. He’s lucky to be alive. The mob intended to kill him.
Human beings are not blank individuals—they’re culture bearers. Culture, in its broadest sense, includes customs, ethics, language, norms, religious beliefs, values, and inherited patterns of social life. It is not confined to borders, nor is it static; culture travels with people, shaping every environment they enter. When individuals or communities migrate, they do not arrive empty-handed—more than cuisine and language, they bring with them a worldview, rooted in faith, ideology, social norms, and tradition. The portability of culture presents modern society with one of its most difficult challenges.
The challenge deepens when we recognize that different cultures are associated not only with different customs, but also with different systems of governance. Some cultures, shaped by centuries of civic development, philosophical inquiry, and political debate, support democratic institutions and pluralistic values. Others, shaped by authoritarianism, religious authority, or tribal structures, are more accustomed to rigid hierarchical or theocratic systems. The form of government a society adopts is rarely arbitrary—it reflects the cultural soil from which it springs. Culture and governance are entwined in a mutually reinforcing relationship.
Image generated by Sora
When migration occurs at a manageable scale and is accompanied by mutual education, engagement, and integration (or assimilation), selected cultures can enrich the host society. I say selective because not all cultures are compatible with the culture of the host country. In some cases, immigrants not only adopt the host nation’s values but bring renewed energy to its civic life and democratic institutions. However, when migration occurs rapidly and in large numbers without strong integration, or when the incoming culture carries deep commitments that resist assimilation, it disorganizes the culture of host country and weakens civil society.
This becomes particularly significant when the host society is built on principles of liberal democracy—freedom of conscience, speech, writing, etc. Such systems require more than just laws to function; they depend on a cultural infrastructure: belief in the equal dignity of individuals, a commitment to civil discourse, and tolerance of differences (but not so tolerant that they self-destruct). These values are not easily transmitted, nor are they universally held. Immigrants bring expectations about how authority should function, how community should be organized, and what role, if any, religion should play in public life. When a significant number of newcomers arrive from cultures where these principles are absent or even opposed, and when assimilation is discouraged—by the host or the immigrant communities or both—the foundation of democratic governance is imperiled.
It’s not just the danger of those who bear cultures incompatible for liberal democracies—there are those in the host country who represent a danger to the national integrity necessary to maintain a free and open society. Multiculturalists (what were before called cultural pluralists) argue that it is wrong to expect assimilation from those who arrive with different traditions. Multiculturalists promote the preservation of diverse cultures within an ostensibly shared political space, holding that difference should not only be tolerated but welcomed and affirmed.
We might charitably assume that this view has noble aims: to avoid cultural erasure, to foster mutual respect, to protect minority identities, etc. I have suggested in past writings that these arms are not what drives multiculturalism, but rather are rationalizations for strategies globalists use to pursue their anti-working class agenda. As one can see in the above video, there are many in the United States who seek to overthrow the American System. But whether we’re charitable or not, the same questions must be addressed: Can a society maintain cohesion when its members are encouraged to live in separate cultural silos? Can a liberal order survive if large segments of its population do not internalize the norms that sustain it? The answer to the question is no.
Cultural diversity can be a source of strength only if it is accompanied by a shared commitment to the ethical and political framework of the host society. Without this, cultural pluralism becomes not a mosaic (even if this were desirable), but a patchwork of mutually exclusive enclaves, each with its own allegiances, rules, and vision of justice. Multiculturalism is in reality the balkanization of the West. If liberal democratic society depends on shared civic values like free speech, gender equality, or the separation of religion and state, what happens when large segments of its population do not subscribe to those values? National suicide.
The threat posed to the West by Islam
This is not a hypothetical concern. Look at France, Great Britain, and Sweden. Multiculturalism has been a disaster. Efforts to maintain cultural pluralism have resulted in the growth of insular communities with limited engagement with the broader population. When people live parallel lives, each within its own cultural framework, mutual understanding declines. In the long term, this situation weakens the social fabric and challenge the stability of the political system itself. Democracy, after all, is not only about elections—it depends on habits of tolerance and trust (within reason). These habits are learned and passed down through culture.
Cultures are more than sets of customs or rituals. They form the foundation of political systems. Over time, a society’s governance tends to reflect the values and assumptions rooted in its culture. Democratic systems arise and flourish in cultures that value compromise, debate, and individual freedom. In contrast, cultures shaped by religious absolutism or rigid hierarchy foster governments where authority is concentrated and dissent is discouraged. In this way, governance and culture are tightly interwoven—one helps to sustain the other.
None of this is to suggest that immigration is inherently a threat to governance. On the contrary, many immigrants adopt democratic values with great enthusiasm and make substantial contributions to their new home. The challenge lies not in the movement of people, but in the assumptions we make about cultural compatibility and civic cohesion. A society can be both diverse and united, but only if it fosters a shared commitment to the core values that sustain its political life. For this reason, immigration policy must be prudent.
As countries continue to navigate the complexities of cultural change in an interconnected world, they will need to grapple honestly with the relationship between culture and governance. Preserving cultural identities and protecting democratic institutions are not always goals in harmony—but the health of modern societies depends on finding a way to hold them together.
Unfortunately, there is no compromise on immigration. One side believes in globalism and rule by transnational corporations and governing bodies. The other believes in the nation-state and citizen governance. Jean Guerrero of the New York Times, says that patriots are trying to erase multiculturalism. She’s right. So are the patriots. Multiculturalism is a globalist ideology.
The classical-liberal ideal of E pluribus unum is a society composed of individuals—not tribes or identity blocs—freely associating under shared principles. This norm reflects Enlightenment values—equality before the law, liberty, and reason—and stands in contrast to corrupt interpretations that emphasize group identity over individual agency. Multiculturalism is ruinous to the organic foundation of the American Republic. Progressives want to balkanize America. It’s a political economic strategy.
Album cover for a popular band that has popularized anti-Americanism
The battle for Los Angeles—and in other cities across the nation—is the battle for America. And Americans should never compromise with the forces that seek to dismantle the republic that keeps them free. However many tens of millions of illegal aliens currently reside in America, they must go home and the policy going forward should reduce future immigration to a trickle—and then only from cultures compatible with our own.
This is not an ideal time for the United States to get involved in another war in the Middle East. We’re trying to end a war between Ukraine (and by extension Europe) and Russia. We have 20 million illegal alien invaders that we have to get out of our country. Between Ukraine and open borders the Democrats have really put the United States in a terrible place. This was by design. The design? The managed decline of the American Republic.
Image generated by Sora
I want to provide the background on this matter so readers can understand that there is something very dark going on the world that warrants the destruction of the Islamist regime in Tehran but that at the same time imperils Trump’s project to reclaim the American Republic for the People. Crucial to understand the situation is exposing the role Obama Democrats have played in building up Iran and enabling the development of offensive nuclear weapons in a terrorist nation allied with China. In effect, they set a trap for Israel and the United States.
The situation is yet another reason why Democrats must never be allow to regain power. This is not unconnected to what is happening in the United States with yet another color revolution aiming to undermine the second Trump Administration. All this is connected to the globalist project to dismantle the West in order to establish a transnational corporate state and usher in a neofeudalist world governed by technocrats. The global elite have know for some time that the only way to protect their power and privilege is to establish a post-capitalist world government by a New Aristocracy. Agentic artificial intelligence has hastened the time they have to establish the New World Order and so they are moving aggressively. Soon the world will be in crisis as billions of workers will have no productive value to the corporate elite.
I begin the background with the Islamic Revolution in Iran and steps the United States took to isolate the regime. Iranian funds were frozen in 1979 after the Iranian Revolution overthrew the Shah and led to the establishment of the Islamic Republic under Ayatollah Khomeini. That same year, the US embassy in Tehran was overrun by Iranian students who took 52 American diplomats and citizens hostage for over a year. In response to the crisis, Jimmy Carter ordered the freezing of nearly 12 billion dollars in Iranian government assets held in US banks and their overseas branches. These included central bank reserves, real estate, and other financial holdings. The freeze was intended as both a punitive measure and a form of leverage during the hostage negotiations. (I will avoid a digression into why Carter failed to stop the Iranian Revolution, but you can read my thoughts here: Who’s Responsible for Iran’s Theocratic State? See also: Facing Down Evil.)
During the Clinton years, the administration viewed Iran as a sponsor of terrorism and an opponent of the US in the Middle East, particularly due to its support for groups like Hamas and Hezbollah and its opposition to the Oslo peace process. In 1995, Clinton issued an executive order banning all US trade and investment in Iran, citing Iran’s support for terrorism and its pursuit of weapons of mass destruction. This was later codified in the Iran and Libya Sanctions Act (ILSA) of 1996, which threatened to sanction foreign companies investing more than 20 dollars million in Iran’s energy sector. The goal was to choke off funds that could fuel Iran’s nuclear or military ambitions. Though Iran was years away from a functional nuclear program, its nuclear ambitions were already a growing concern.
After the September 11, 2001 attacks, George W. Bush gave his now-famous “Axis of Evil” speech, lumping Iran with Iraq and North Korea as regimes seeking weapons of mass destruction and supporting terrorism. From that point forward, the Bush administration pursued a confrontational stance. In 2002, revelations emerged that Iran had secretly built nuclear facilities at Natanz and Arak. This intensified fears that Iran was developing nuclear weapons capabilities. Bush supported international efforts to investigate Iran’s nuclear program and pushed for Iran to halt enrichment activities.
While the US was engaged in Afghanistan and Iraq, both wars I opposed (although I did advocate direct action against Osama bin Laden’s installation in the Tora Bora mountain range), it also pursued covert operations in Iran, including intelligence gathering and possibly sabotage. The Bush administration supported Iranian dissident groups and sought regime change. The 2006 and 2007 sanctions imposed through the United Nations Security Council—backed by US diplomatic pressure—were a turning point in formalizing international opposition to Iran’s nuclear activities. Bush also signed executive orders targeting Iran’s Revolutionary Guard Corps and its Quds Force.
Billboard depicting Iranian ballistic missiles on Valiasr Square in central Tehran. (Source)
All this changed with the election of Barack Hussein Obama. Under Obama, the US pursued a diplomatic agreement with Iran known as the Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action (JCPOA), signed in 2015. The way the deal was presented was that it aimed to prevent Iran from developing nuclear weapons by limiting its nuclear activities in exchange for relief from international sanctions. What did the deal do? It released Iranian assets that had been frozen for decades. These funds—amounting to roughly 100–150 billion dollars in total Iranian assets—were Iranian funds that had been held abroad due to sanctions. In addition to releasing frozen Iranian assets, the US delivered 1.7 billion dollars to Iran in cash: 400 million dollars—a decades-old payment owed for a failed arms deal from before the 1979 Iranian revolution—and 1.3 billion dollars in interest.
When Donald Trump became president in 2017, he took a starkly different approach. In 2018, he withdrew the US from the JCPOA, not only because it was a bad deal that empowered Iran, but because it had failed to stop Iran’s nuclear ambitions. Following this, the Trump administration launched a “maximum pressure” campaign by reimposing and intensifying economic sanctions on Iran. These included sanctions on oil exports, banking, and other vital sectors of the Iranian economy. The goal was to economically isolate Iran and force it back into negotiations. Trump sought a peaceful solution to the problem of a nuclear Iran—but one that did not enable Iran to pursue its nuclear ambitions.
These sanctions deeply impacted Iran’s economy, reducing its oil revenue and straining its currency. Critics argued this approach increased tensions in the region and pushed Iran closer to nuclear weapons development. On the contrary, it curtailed Iran’s regional aggression and economic strength—and made it difficult for Iran to continue its offensive nuclear weapons program. Trump’s efforts at work peace here and in other hot spots was confronted by Democrats who worked tirelessly to undermine his presidency. In 2020, they engineered a coup and installed former Senator are Vice-President under Obama Joe Biden as president.
Under Biden, the administration sought to revive the JCPOA. In 2023, a high-profile deal involved the US allowing $6 billion in previously frozen Iranian funds (held in South Korea) to be transferred to Qatar as part of a prisoner swap between the US and Iran. The Biden administration emphasized that the funds could only be used for humanitarian purposes (food and medicine). The Biden administration defended the move as part of a broader diplomatic strategy. This was not naïveté. It was a return to the Obama program to strengthen Iran. Critics rightly viewed this as effectively providing Iran access to funds that could free up resources for malign activities.
As a consequence, and in the wake of the terrorist attack on Israel in October 2023, on June 13, 2025, Israel launched a sweeping airstrike campaign across Iran, targeting over 100 military and nuclear facilities in a move aimed at crippling Tehran’s nuclear capabilities. The assault, coordinated by the Israeli military and Mossad, struck key sites, including Fordow, Isfahan, and Natanz, and reportedly killed several high-ranking Iranian officials and nuclear scientists. Iran retaliated with a barrage of drones and ballistic missiles, killing at least three Israeli civilians.
The attack followed heightened concerns from the IAEA over Iran’s nuclear activity and sparked sharp international debate—praised by US Republicans as a necessary act of self-defense but criticized by Democrats as dangerously escalatory. Indeed, the strike marks a dramatic escalation in Israel-Iran tensions and could reshape Middle East dynamics. More than this, it could spark a full-blown world war.
The day before Israel launched the attack, at the dinner table sharing a meal with my wife and youngest son, I said I thought Israel would launch a military strike against Iran the next day. I saw the signals. My son, who had been following the news, called to tell me I was right. As the news came in, I learned more details. I spent a day reflecting on the matter. I shared my thoughts on Facebook about why I support Israel’s actions. I want to share my thoughts—but first, I want to explain how I try to think about such matters.
I have taken to working from first principles. This has cleared up a lot of my thinking. It’s why I have changed my mind on several crucial issues, all of which I have discussed on this platform. By focusing on basic, fundamental truths—in this case, respecting a nation’s sovereignty, not initiating violence without good reason, and the right to self-defense—I feel we can extend clear and consistent ways to judge actions to foreign relations. This may help you decide where to stand.
Generally, it’s both legally and morally wrong for one country to attack another without a serious reason—and by serious, I mean something like an attack, an immediate threat, or something that could wipe out a country’s existence. This principle is there to prevent imperialism or unchecked aggression. It lies at the core of the Peace of Westphalia. However, imagine a situation where a country is building nuclear weapons, funding terrorist attacks, and openly calling for another state’s destruction. Here the principle of non-aggression pushes up against another important principle: the right to self-defense, which is a foundational right recognized in international law.
To understand this better, it helps to think about two kinds of mistakes in statistical reasoning: Type I and Type II errors. A Type I error occurs if Israel strikes Iran because it believes Iran is an immediate threat when it really isn’t. If that happens, Israel starts a war that wasn’t necessary, creates regional instability, hurts its international reputation, and provokes retaliation that may have been avoided. That’s the risk of acting when one shouldn’t. We call this a false positive.
A Type II error would be not acting, thinking the threat isn’t serious, when Iran is preparing a devastating attack or building weapons that could wipe out Israel. Then the threat goes unchecked and that could mean terrible consequences: Iran having nuclear weapons, terrorists emboldened, or even a direct attack causing mass casualties. That’s the risk of failing to act when action is needed we call a false negative. Crucially, Israel did not attack out of aggression—it acted out of necessity, to protect its people and its future. Moreover, the strike made have made the region safer by negating a growing threat: a terrorist state with nuclear weapons. Better to commit a Type I error here than a Type II error.
For years, Iran has made clear that it sees Israel as an enemy to be destroyed. Its leaders openly call for Israel’s destruction and back that up by supporting terrorist groups—Hamas, Hezbollah—which have attacked Israeli civilians repeatedly. Iran’s strategy of surrounding Israel with hostile proxies and destabilizing the region is very real. Tehran continues enriching uranium beyond what’s needed for peaceful use and has blocked inspections in key places. The danger isn’t just that Iran might use a nuclear weapon against Israel. Just having an offensive nuclear capacity would make Iran bolder and shift the balance of power in the region toward a hostile, fanatical Islamist regime run by clerical fascists. This isn’t only Israel’s problem—Iran is a threat to regional, even global security.
Given all this, Israel’s strike on Iran’s military and nuclear sites shouldn’t be seen as breaking international rules, but as an act of preemptive self-defense. Israel didn’t take this path lightly. But when faced with clear and escalating threats—when waiting could lead to disaster—the right to self-defense isn’t just justified; it’s an obligation. The people come first.
First principles tell us to respect sovereignty and avoid war whenever possible. But they also demand action when doing nothing means risking destruction. No country should have to wait for a catastrophe before defending itself. Israel wants peace. It’s not the aggressor. Iran is a terrorist state. Israel can’t risk the lives of its citizens hoping its enemies—a gang of religious zealots—will restrain themselves. In this case, failing to act is far worse than acting—and acting early.
Many believe we are in the early kinetic phase of the Third World War. Will Israel’s actions add to the growing intensity of national antagonisms? Perhaps. Will stopping a terrorist nation from developing nuclear weapons make the war less destructive? Imagine total war on the Eurasian landmass. Would it make the situation worse to have a nuclear Iran? Yes, I think so.
Hopefully Israel’s actions will force Iran to return to the negotiating table to deal with Trump and help build his vision of shared peace and prosperity. Perhaps the Israel-Iran conflict will embolden Iranians to rise up and overthrow the clerical fascist regime (that Carter stupidly allowed to come to power) and resurrect Persia, one of the great civilizations of history, today kept in darkness by the mullahs of Tehran. There are other points we might consider here. But the key point is that Israel had to stop a recalcitrant entity from getting its hairy paws on nuclear weapons. A nuclear Iran is a nightmare par excellence.
But here’s where we must draw the line: while I support Israel’s right—and responsibility—to defend itself, the United States must not allow itself to be dragged into another Middle Eastern war that ultimately serves the interests of our enemies, both foreign and domestic. Trump was right to urge restraint. The instinct to stay out of this fight is not isolationism—it’s survival. It is the proper application of strategic nationalism.
Let’s be clear: Israel can—and must—defend itself. But that does not mean the American people should once again be conscripted—financially, militarily, politically—into someone else’s war. Especially not now. Under Biden, the US was on the brink: our economy was fragile, our borders collapsing, our institutions captured by globalist ideologues, and our military emasculated by woke bureaucrats. We cannot afford another war that bleeds our resources and distracts from the existential task at home: the restoration of the American Republic.
It’s no coincidence that the same forces pushing the US toward deeper entanglement in foreign conflict—Democrat elites, legacy media, transnational NGOs—are also the architects of our decline. These are the same people who sabotaged Trump, enabled Iran’s rise, armed terrorists, opened our borders, corrupted our elections, and now want to drag us into a catastrophic global conflict in the name of “defending democracy.” It is not democracy they defend—it’s their empire.
The truth is this: the war Israel is fighting is a just war, but it’s not America’s war to fight directly—certainly not under the leadership of those who have betrayed America’s national interest at every turn. If Trump chooses to engage based on a coherent, America First strategy that serves the Republic, then and only then can such involvement be reassessed. Trump must speak about this soon. We need to know what he is thinking.
My advice to the President: Let Israel act. Let her win. But let America not be sacrificed in the process. The first duty of a sovereign government is to its own people. The path back to American greatness is not through Tehran or Tel Aviv—it’s through Washington, DC, and the removal of the globalist regime that has led us to this precipice. We support our allies best not by fighting their wars for them, but by restoring the Republic at home so that peace through strength is possible once again.
Trump’s project is not merely political—it’s civilizational. The stakes are nothing less than the survival of ordered liberty in a world descending into chaos. The United States must be wise enough not to mistake support for servitude—and strong enough to defend its own future before extending its strength abroad. To be sure, these are not unconnected, but the way forward demands prudence. The greatest contribution America can make to peace in the world is the restoration of its own sovereignty. That cannot be sacrificed for Israel’s sake. They made the decision to go to war with Iran. We did not agree to go to war with them.
I reserve the right to change my mind on this. Nobody wants to see an Islamic regime in Iran. No rational person, anyway. Not just for the United States and Israel, but for the Iranian people. If this can be accomplished without spending another 6 trillion dollars (the total cost of the Afghanistan and Iraq wars to the United States) and losing another 7,000 US service members (with many times more maimed and brains scrambled), then I am open to providing support to Israel’s efforts. But I fear it can’t, and so, for now, I urge the President to keep us out of war.
In 1976, the United States celebrated its Bicentennial with a wide range of events and ceremonies commemorating two hundred years since the signing of the Declaration of Independence. I was 14 years old and remember the excitement vividly. Just a decade earlier, Jim Crow segregation had been abolished, and the Voting Rights Act passed. Only seven years before, America landed a man on the moon. After several more missions, we established a continuous presence in space with Skylab, which hosted three crewed missions. A year before the big celebration, the Vietnam War had come to an end.
The Bicentennial was a nationwide celebration filled with patriotism and cultural reflection. Cities across the country hosted historical reenactments, fireworks displays, parades, and special concerts. The most prominent national event was Operation Sail in New York Harbor, where tall ships from around the world joined a massive naval review attended by President Gerald Ford. Yes, a massive naval review attended by President Gerald Ford.
Congress authorized the minting of special Bicentennial quarters, half dollars, and dollar coins, all featuring unique reverse designs and the dual date “1776–1976.” Philadelphia, where the Declaration was signed, was a focal point for celebrations, including the restoration of Independence Hall. The American Freedom Train—a traveling museum on rails—toured all 48 contiguous states, bringing historical artifacts and exhibitions to millions. Television networks aired patriotic specials, and new monuments and public projects were dedicated.
It was a big to-do—and for good reason. The Bicentennial was a unifying moment in a decade marked by economic and political turmoil: protests, riots, the war, the Church Committee hearings, Watergate. It gave Americans a chance to reflect on their shared history and national identity.
The U.S. Army’s official motto, “This We’ll Defend.”
Now, we’ve arrived at another big moment: the 250th anniversary of the US Army. This milestone celebrates a quarter of a millennium of the Army’s history—from its founding during the Revolutionary War through its roles in every major conflict and peacekeeping mission since. Next year will mark the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence. It’s significant that the Army was created in 1775, a year before the Declaration that launched the war for independence, where we threw off a king and established a democratic republic.
The first person to hold the title of General of the Army in the United States was George Washington. He was appointed Commander-in-Chief of the Continental Army by the Second Continental Congress in 1775 and later given the rank of General. After leading the Continental Army to victory, Washington went on to become the first President of the United States. Unanimously elected, he served two terms from 1789 to 1797. His leadership—both on the battlefield and as president—helped lay the foundation for the new nation’s government and democratic traditions.
We could not have won the War of Independence—and thus established our country—without the Army. What we’re celebrating is an institution that predates our Constitution—an institution that made our Constitution possible. And that institution has sustained our nation through all these centuries: through civil war, two world wars, and now stands ready to defend and preserve this nation in the next global conflict. It’s the perfect moment to honor the tens of millions of men and women who have put their lives on the line to defend the American Republic.
“We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.” —Preamble to the United States Constitution
I want to make clear from the outset—those who regularly read Freedom and Reason already know this—that I am deeply committed to the First Amendment and the fundamental freedoms of association, peaceful assembly, and speech and writing that are the lifeblood of American democracy. The right to express dissent, to organize for change, and to gather in protest is essential, and I support lawful, nonviolent efforts to advocate for policy reforms even when I disagree with dissenters, protestors, and reformers.
The Vietnam War protests of the 1960s-1970s were a powerful expression of moral conviction, driven by a growing sense of injustice surrounding the war’s purpose, methods, and human cost. Protesters questioned the ethical legitimacy of US involvement in a distant conflict that claimed millions of lives, disproportionately affected the poor and marginalized, and was often justified with unclear or misleading government narratives. The moral righteousness of the protestors lay in their demand for accountability, peace, and challenging the notion that patriotism required blind support for war. The protests were an affirmation of democratic responsibility and of human dignity.
However, these rights that governed the actions of Vietnam War or any other protestors do not extend to actions that violate the law, obstruct lawful enforcement, or threaten the safety and sovereignty of the nation. Respecting the First Amendment means upholding both the right to protest and the rule of law—a balance that protects our democratic society from chaos and preserves the integrity of the Constitution itself.
Indeed, we must protect our democratic society from chaos and preserve the integrity of the Constitution itself; the only reason we enjoy the freedoms of speech, association, and peaceful assembly is because we exist in a democratic republic with a constitution and a bill of rights. Other countries don’t enjoy these rights—and we won’t either if we let Democrats and their minions prevail in their current defiance of the Constitution and the popular will. The protests seek more than an end to ICE raids. They seek revolution. Indeed, these are not really protests but rebellion against the American Republic.
National Guard troops clash with demonstrators in Los Angeles on June 8, 2025 (source)
One of the central reasons the US Constitution was drafted to replace the Articles of Confederation was to address the federal government’s inability to respond effectively to internal unrest and maintain order—most notably demonstrated by Shays’ Rebellion in 1786–87. Under the Articles, the government lacked the power to enforce laws domestically. This exposed a fatal flaw: central authority was too weak to preserve domestic peace, enforce federal law, or suppress insurrection—all essential functions of a sovereign state.
The urgent need for a more effective national structure is what led to the Constitutional Convention of 1787, held in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Figures like Alexander Hamilton, James Madison, and George Washington advocated a stronger federal government precisely to “ensure domestic tranquility,” as declared in the Constitution’s Preamble. Article I, Section 8 grants Congress the authority to call forth the militia to suppress insurrections, and the Insurrection Act of 1792 further codifies the power of the federal government to use military force to respond to domestic uprisings. (See my recent essay Quelling the Rebellion.)
After the Constitutional Convention, a woman asked Benjamin Franklin what kind of government the delegates had created. He famously replied: “A republic, if you can keep it.” Keeping the republic demands civic responsibility from the citizens and defense of the nation from threats external and internal.
Today, we are witnessing what amounts to an insurrection both in the common understanding of armed rebellion and in the deliberate obstruction of federal authority. Deliberate obstruction is not often thought of as insurrection, but when city and state governments declare themselves “sanctuary jurisdictions,” refusing to cooperate with federal immigration authorities and shielding individuals who are in the country unlawfully, they are not simply offering moral dissent—they are actively nullifying federal law. This undermines the rule of law, compromises national sovereignty, and constitutes a constitutional crisis. The Democratic Party today is not only fomenting rebellion—several of its leaders are actively engaged in insurrection. We may accurately describe Democrats as neo-confederates.
In a way, the appeal to states’ rights is in the DNA of the Democratic Party, and today, just as in the past, Democrats make this appeal to protect the split-labor market and advance globalization. The labor of undocumented migrants in today’s US economy, for example in sectors like California’s agricultural industry, bears striking similarities to the forced labor of enslaved people in the antebellum South. While the contexts differ—most notably that migrants often come voluntarily, while enslaved Africans were forcibly taken (which is why it made no sense to deport them)—the economic function they serve within a capitalist system reveals a persistent pattern. Both systems rely on a subordinated labor class, stripped of full legal protections, to maximize profits for those who own the means of production.
In both historical and contemporary cases, the subordinate labor force performs the physically demanding, low wage (or in slavery’s case, unpaid) work that others “refuse to do”: picking strawberries or cotton, cleaning houses, caring for children, maintaining landscapes, and performing other undervalued agricultural and domestic labor. Their marginalized legal status—slaves as property with no rights, migrants working without documentation or secure legal standing—renders them exploitable and keeps wages suppressed. This dynamic ensures that a vast amount of essential labor remains cheap and excluded from the full protections of labor law.
This continuity reveals how capitalism, particularly in its most exploitative forms, depends on a tiered labor structure—where the most vulnerable perform the hardest work under the harshest conditions. While the systems of slavery and migrant labor are not identical, they are linked by their function: to create and maintain a workforce that exists outside the full boundaries of economic and legal inclusion, thus allowing capital to extract maximum value at minimum cost. The legacy of slavery haunts the fields and homes of today’s economy, a structural echo that continues to shape who labors, under what conditions, and for whose benefit.
Moreover, in both slavery and the exploitation of undocumented migrant labor, the presence of a hyper-exploited labor class exerts downward pressure on wages and working conditions for other workers, particularly those at the lower end of the labor market. This happens because employers use the availability of cheap labor to avoid paying higher wages or offering better conditions to native-born or legally protected workers. The very existence of a labor pool willing (or forced) to work under extreme conditions drives down wages, undermines collective bargaining, and weakens labor solidarity. The split-labor market is not only an economic strategy but a political tactic.
During slavery, free white laborers in the South often found themselves unable to compete with slave labor, which distorted local labor markets and contributed to long-standing divisions in the American working class. In the modern context, illegal aliens play a similar role. Migrants, often unable to report abuses or demand fair wages due to the threat of deportation, provide a convenient tool for employers to resist unionization, sidestep regulations, and fragment worker power. Thus, both systems not only provide cheap labor to capital, but also work to discipline and weaken the broader labor force by creating a class of workers who could be paid less, treated worse, and used as leverage against demands for better wages and conditions from others. This is a structural feature, not a side effect, of these labor regimes. The Democratic Party exists to maintain this political economic structure.
So we have faced this kind of internal crisis before. At its core, the Civil War was a confrontation over the limits of federal authority and the right of states to defy national laws. Southern Democrats sought to preserve their way of life, which depended on slavery, claiming the right to nullify federal mandates and ultimately to secede from the Union, insisting that their local sovereignty took precedence over the Constitution’s national framework. President Lincoln rejected that claim unequivocally, asserting that the Union was perpetual and that rebellion against federal authority was not merely dissent, but insurrection. The war was fought not just over slavery, but over the very idea of a unified, sovereign nation bound by a common Constitution.
Image from 1995. Eric Schlosser, writing for The Atlantic three decades ago: “The management of California’s strawberry industry offers a case study of both the dependence on an imported peasantry that characterizes much of American agriculture and the destructive consequences of a deliberate low-wage economy.” (Source)
Today’s sanctuary policies and defiance of federal immigration law echo those same dangerous arguments for selective obedience to national authority—and for a similar reason: to preserve a way of life that depends on cheap labor. The question, “Who will pick the cotton?” has its parallel in the question, “Who will pick the strawberries?” Democrats say this unflinchingly, believing that nobody will note the parallel. However, as in the 1860s, we are once again confronted with the question of whether the United States is a nation of laws—or a patchwork of jurisdictions that obey only the laws they like.
To understand the gravity of the current moment, it is useful to contrast today’s protests against immigration enforcement with those of an earlier era—specifically, the Vietnam War protests, which I mentioned earlier. These two movements differ fundamentally in both principle and consequence. The Vietnam-era demonstrations targeted US involvement in a foreign conflict. While they were emotionally charged and politically polarizing, their effect—even if they helped bring about withdrawal from Vietnam—did not threaten the structural coherence of the American state. On the contrary, ending an unpopular and morally ambiguous war could be seen as reaffirming American values. I accompanied my parents to these protests—and my son accompanied me when I protested the Second Gulf War.
Today’s protests are of an entirely different nature. They target the internal operations of the state—most critically, the nation’s ability to regulate its borders and control who enters or resides within its territory. The protests are not just about immigration policy; it’s about national self-determination and the fundamental capacity of the United States to exercise sovereignty. If the government capitulates to demands that undermine or nullify immigration laws, it risks eroding the very framework that allows the state to govern at all. With that framework go all our immunities and privileges.
Both eras of protest faced accusations of foreign influence. During the Cold War, some charged that antiwar protestors were tools of communist regimes like the Soviet Union or North Vietnam. Today, protest movements—against immigration control, Israel’s actions in Gaza, etc.—are supported by foreign NGOs, international advocacy networks, and philanthropic organizations with globalist leanings that benefit from lax immigration enforcement. Whether or not these claims are exaggerated (and they aren’t in the case of the current protests), the key distinction lies in consequence—even if both movements stem from deeply held convictions, the outcome of today’s immigration protests carries existential weight: weakening the republic’s ability to enforce immigration laws amounts to weakening the republic itself.
One of the explicit goals of the current resistance to immigration enforcement is to raise the cost of federal action by creating zones of defiance where the government’s laws are openly ignored or obstructed. For example, the mayor of Los Angeles, Karen Bass, has stated bluntly that violent resistance against federal government’s actions will stop when the federal government stops enforcing the law in her city. This is a direct threat from a state official against the federal government—a challenge that uses the threat of escalating civil unrest and violence to deter lawful federal activity.
Such defiance echoes the rhetoric and spirit of neoconfederate arguments, which champion local or state sovereignty over national unity and federal law. Mayor Bass and Governor Gavin Newsom’s stances assert regional power in opposition to constitutional authority. This politicization of law enforcement by Democrats not only undermines the rule of law but fuels a constitutional crisis by encouraging the selective obedience of laws based on partisan or ideological preferences.
This is why the role of the US military—particularly its domestic presence—remains essential in keeping domestic order and suppressing insurrection. Critics of the military used in this way tell the public to worry about the militarization of American society and the erosion of civil liberties. The reason for this is not due to any real concern for the deployment of the military domestically. It’s rhetoric designed to generate public opposition to the federal governments duty to “ensure domestic tranquility.” Democrats don’t believe in the Constitution and they want the public to forget why the Constitution was established and the scope of its authority.
Expect to hear at some point about the Posse Comitatus Act, passed in 1878, a federal law that prohibits the use of the US Army to execute domestic laws unless expressly authorized by the Constitution or an act of Congress. Here’s the kicker: the law was enacted in the aftermath of Reconstruction, as Southern states pushed back against the continued use of federal troops in civilian governance. Democrats sought to draw a sharp line between military power and civil law enforcement for the sake of Redemption, i.e., reinstalling white supremacy as the normal order of things. As long as the federal government, including the military, was deeply involved in enforcing new civil rights laws and maintaining order in the South, Democrats could not reconstitute the racist system they had developed during the antebellum period. Federal troops were stationed throughout the region to protect newly freed blacks and to uphold the authority of the federal government against hostile local governments and terrorist groups like the Ku Klux Klan. Simply put, Posse Comitatus sought to make federal action difficult.
I want to be very clear about this: it was the same states’ right sentiment that led the Civil War that also produced federal law limiting the use of the military in the suppression of insurrection and rebellions. White Southerners fiercely resisted federal military presence, viewing it as an occupation and an infringement on states’ rights and local control. They sought to prevent the federal military from being used to enforce laws domestically, especially in the South, where many wanted to reassert local control without interference from the federal government. But the Constitution is the supreme law of the land. The Articles of Confederation were superseded by the Constitution.
Wouldn’t deploying the military against civilians be dangerous? Any act of force comes with risks. Deploying the police against civilians is dangerous. But consider a counterintuitive yet important argument from civil libertarian journalist Radley Balko, a fierce critic of police militarization. (I am a fierce critic of police militarization, as well. I lecture on this problem in my criminal justice courses, and I have in the past assigned Balko’s book The Warrior Cop to my students.) However, Balko argues that soldiers—particularly combat veterans—often make better law enforcement officers than traditional police. His reasoning is grounded not in a call for more militarization, but in the cultural and training differences between the two institutions.
Military personnel are trained under strict rules of engagement, a clear chain of command, and a heavy emphasis on restraint and de-escalation. They are conditioned to distinguish between civilians and combatants, often in hostile environments, while maintaining discipline under pressure. In contrast, many police departments have adopted the superficial aesthetics of militarization—armored vehicles, tactical gear—without the corresponding training in accountability, discipline, and judgment.
Balko contends that combat veterans are often less prone to panic, more likely to remain composed under stress, and more respectful of civilian lives and rights. They understand the seriousness of force and the importance of mission clarity. Many see their service as a form of public stewardship, not power projection. This is not an argument for expanding military authority or blending it with policing. Rather, it is a call to recognize that constitutionally grounded, lawful, and restrained enforcement of the law—especially in response to domestic threats—requires personnel who are serious about the Constitution, not just about control. In the current situation, deployment of the military is appropriate.
This next piece is crucial (and this is why Kent State is such a bad analogy). Normally, civilians are protected under the laws of domestic governance and the principles of criminal justice. However, when a group rises in armed rebellion against the state (and arms are not just guns and grenades), those actively participating in the insurrection effectively assume the role of combatants opposing lawful authority. Under US law, insurrectionists can be treated as unlawful combatants or rebels because they are using force to resist or overthrow the government. This designation removes the usual civilian protections and justifies a military or law enforcement response to suppress the rebellion. This does not mean all citizens in a protesting population automatically become combatants—only those who engage in violence or armed resistance do.
The oath sworn by members of the US military is not merely ceremonial—it is a solemn vow to “support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic.” This reflects a foundational commitment to lawful authority and constitutional governance. Soldiers are bound not to ideology, individual leaders, or party, but to the enduring principles enshrined in the Constitution. That oath demands a response to domestic threats to the republic, and it implicates not only individuals rioting in the streets, but also political leaders who institutionalize defiance of federal law.
Importantly, the government retains the authority to distinguish between lawful protestors exercising their First Amendment rights and those who cross the line into insurrectionary acts—such as attempts to nullify federal authority, obstruction of law enforcement, and violence. This distinction is critical to maintaining constitutional order and ensuring that force is used judiciously and lawfully. The military are particularly suited for such situations. This is why the Constitution was established and why Article I and Article II give Congress and the President the power to call in the military to quash rebellion.
Trump’s actions are a response not merely to unrest and rioting, but by civilians engaged in rebellion and the deliberate refusal by California authorities to enforce federal law—particularly around immigration and public order. Rather than a failure or lapse in governance, the inaction of local officials reflects an ideological alignment with the protesters and a broader resistance to federal immigration enforcement, including efforts to prevent the deportation of illegal aliens (see The Resistance™ and Transnationalism). In this context, Trump’s deployment of federal agents is positioned as a necessary assertion of federal authority in the face of open defiance.
But get ready for it. Regardless of intent, progressives will frame Trump’s moves as authoritarian, using the presence of federal force as visual and political ammunition to support that narrative. Patriots will have to resist the emotional pull of the progressive framing. Suppressing an insurrection is always ugly. But if the ugliness of military action keeps the people from acting to preserve the republic, then the progressives will win, and America will fall. This is what progressives want. The Vietnam War protests were about making America a better nation. The rebellion in our streets today and the resistance by members of the Democratic Party are about making America go away. Thus, it behooves us to remember Franklin’s words and act with the force of conviction.
In The Disenlightenment: Politics, Horror, and Entertainment, playwright David Mamet—who appeared on Steve Bannon’s War Room yesterday—argues that liberalism, once a worldview he embraced, has been co-opted by elites who manipulate culture, language, and media to consolidate power and erode traditional values.
Playwright David Mamet Walks Away From Left: “A Dedication To Feeling Rather Than To Reason, Led To Violence” pic.twitter.com/KZi71rlpjT
— Bannon’s WarRoom (@Bannons_WarRoom) June 9, 2025
Mamet contends that “disenlightenment” fosters a society driven by conformity and sentimentality rather than reason, transforming governance into an oppressive tool—akin to Circe turning men into swine.
I ordered Mamet’s book (which was just released) and look forward to reading it. Mamet summarized his critique on the program: the left’s emphasis on social consciousness has become a hollow performance that undermines individual freedom and meritocracy.
In contrast, Mamet champions a constitutional conservatism rooted in logic and personal responsibility. His shift, he explained, reflects a growing disillusionment with what he sees as the Democratic Party’s abandonment of its core principles—especially during the Biden years, when unelected bureaucrats wielded unchecked power.
I discussed some of these ideas in yesterday essay on Freedom and Reason: In the Shadow of Serfdom: Revisiting Liberalism in the Age of Progressivism. However, one point from the interview that I did not address, which I want to touch on here, involves the Jewish tradition of justice and the danger of mercy when it is allowed to displace justice.
Several years ago, a colleague gave me a copy of The TANAKH: The Holy Scriptures, the new JPS translation according to the traditional Hebrew text. It’s a wonderful translation. Mamet’s remarks prompted me to return to it, especially given the present context in which progressives increasingly defend the practice of “defining deviance down” in the name of compassion, humanitarianism, and mercy.
In Jewish tradition, the pursuit of justice (tzedek) is a foundational moral imperative. It is emphasized throughout the Torah and prophetic literature. The oft-cited verse from Deuteronomy—Tzedek, tzedek tirdof (“Justice, justice you shall pursue”)—underscores justice not merely as a legal standard, but as a sacred duty.
Yet the tradition doesn’t stop at justice alone. Mercy (rachamim) is also a divine attribute to be emulated. Jewish thought maintains that while justice ensures accountability and fairness, mercy tempers strict judgment with compassion—making space for redemption and rehabilitation.
Image generated by Sora
This balance is key. Mercy must not replace justice. When mercy becomes unmoored from justice, it risks devolving into sentimentality and favoritism. The result is moral confusion, what I’ve called misplaced humanitarianism (see On the Problem of Misplaced Humanitarianism).
Indeed, the Talmud warns against excessive leniency that leads to injustice: “He who is kind to the cruel ends up being cruel to the kind.” Mamet reminded me of this scripture. When mercy is extended to wrongdoers at the expense of their victims, justice is not merely undermined—it is perverted. The consequence is not peace, but the empowerment of wrongdoing and the betrayal of the innocent.
Mercy without justice also corrodes social trust. A society that tolerates corruption, violence, or exploitation under the guise of compassion ceases to be one where the rights of citizens are protected.
Even God in Jewish theology is portrayed as balancing judgment (din) with mercy, illustrating that neither attribute is sufficient alone. True mercy must operate within the framework of justice—not apart from it. Detached from justice, mercy ceases to be virtue and becomes abdication.
Jewish tradition honors mercy only when it reinforces justice. True compassion does not ignore wrongdoing; it confronts it with both humanity and accountability. Justice ensures moral order; mercy ensures it remains humane. The danger lies in confusing one for the other.
This confusion is not abstract. It has concrete political consequences. In today’s progressive movement, mercy—lacking the foundation of justice—is often selectively applied: granted to those deemed marginalized or ideologically aligned, but withheld (or inverted into retribution) against those labeled oppressive or privileged. In a word: conservative, heterosexual, white.
This is not mercy within justice—it’s factionalism masquerading as compassion. By excusing criminality, erasing standards, refusing to uphold laws equally, and selectively prosecuting ideological opponents, progressives weaponize justice. Their so-called mercy becomes a mask for moral bias—a counterfeit justice rooted not in universal principle, but political allegiance. In doing so, they betray both justice and mercy.
There’s a reason they call it “social justice.” It is not about individuals judged by a universal standard, but about group identities arranged in an ideological hierarchy. In this worldview, some groups are inherently good, others inherently bad—determined not by actions, but by their place in the hierarchy.
So, it depends on who is rioting. If conservatives riot, it’s a “threat to democracy”—and indefinite detention, denial of bail, and harsh sentencing are rebranded as justice. No mercy for them. But when those deemed marginalized riot, we are told: “This is what democracy looks like.” Police, under progressive leadership, often stand down as property is destroyed and people assaulted.
Recall the summer of 2020. Now imagine the rioters were conservative. Hard to do, perhaps—conservatives don’t typically riot over election results or racially charged incidents involving white victims. But try. What would the progressive reaction have been? You don’t have to guess.
Why, when a group of black individuals assaults a white person—a common enough occurrence—is there silence from Democrats? When conservatives point it out, they’re accused of racial provocation. But if white individuals (a rare occurrence) assault a black person, it becomes national news, framed as “systemic racism.” And if riots follow, progressives hail them as a “just” and “mostly peaceful” uprising.
So, it’s not compassion, humanitarianism, or mercy that drives progressives to define deviance down. It’s rhetoric. False rhetoric. It’s ideologically applied “justice” in the service of corporate and political interests. There is elite utility in chaos and double standards.
This is the peril of mercy untethered from justice: it invites tyranny under the guise of virtue. Hence the term “virtue signaling.” It is not real virtue. It is a distortion of justice—and Jewish tradition warns precisely against such distortion.
Perhaps this is part of the reason progressives often show hostility toward Jews: the Jewish moral tradition stands in the way of their ideological program. This antipathy is evident in the Red-Green alliance that many progressives defend—and in which some actively participate.
True justice, pursued sincerely and consistently, does not ask who the accused is—it asks what the act was. Justice is blind not because it lacks compassion, but because it rejects favoritism. When justice becomes retribution dressed in political garb, it ceases to be justice at all.
This essay argues that progressivism, despite its stated aims of emancipation and empowerment, leads to coercion, dependency, and the erosion of personal freedom through its reliance on centralized state control and corporatism. It contrasts progressivism with classical liberalism, primarily as articulated by FA Hayek, which champions individual liberty, limited government, and spontaneous order, rooted in the principles of America’s Founding Fathers and Judeo-Christian ethics.
The argument unfolds by first critiquing progressivism’s expansion of state power, which fosters dependency and undermines autonomy, as warned by Hayek in The Road to Serfdom and The Constitution of Liberty. It then distinguishes progressivism from socialism, defining the latter as worker-controlled, decentralized production, while portraying progressivism as a technocratic ideology serving corporate interests. The essay further explores classical liberalism’s commitment to liberty, contrasting it with progressivism’s positive liberty, which justifies state intervention and erodes the rule of law.
Finally, it examines issues like free trade, immigration, and nationalism, arguing that a civic nationalism aligned with liberal principles can safeguard freedom against the threats posed by progressive policies and unchecked globalism. I conclude by acknowledging Marxism’s insights into historical materialism and leverage those insight to advocate for a future that preserves liberty through decentralized, worker-driven systems in the aftermath of the Fourth Industrial Revolution.
* * *
In The Disenlightenment: Politics, Horror, and Entertainment, playwright David Mamet, who was on Steve Bannon’s War Room yesterday, argues that liberalism, which he once embraced, has been co-opted by elites who manipulate cultural institutions, language, and media to consolidate power and erode traditional values. Mamet contends that “disenlightenment” fosters a society driven by conformity and sentimentality rather than reason, turning governance into a tool of oppression akin to Circe transforming men into swine.
I ordered Mamet’s book and look forward to reading it. In his discussion with Bannon, Mamet summarizes his critique: the left’s focus on social consciousness as a hollow performance that undermines individual freedom and meritocracy. Against this, he advocated for constitutional conservatism grounded in logic and personal responsibility. His explained that his shift reflects disillusionment with what he sees as the Democratic Party’s betrayal of its principles, exemplified during the Biden years, when bureaucrats wielded unchecked power.
However, I disagree with what Mamet describes as liberalism. What he is describing is progressivism. In modern political discourse, on the left and the right, the terms “liberalism” and “progressivism” are often used interchangeably, particularly in American contexts. Yet they represent distinct, and ultimately incompatible, philosophical traditions. Classical liberalism emphasizes individual liberty, limited government, and the rule of law. Progressivism, in contrast, champions state intervention to- ostensibly ameliorate inequalities, aiming to engineer societal outcomes in accordance with standards of justice—criteria progressives define and establish via control over policymaking and sense-making institutions.
Image generated by Sora
While progressives often portray their policies as forms of emancipation and empowerment—expanding access to resources, reducing inequality, uplifting marginalized groups—the underlying logic of their ideology reveals a trajectory toward coercion, dependency, and the erosion of personal freedom. Progressives expand state control to achieve these ends, and expansion that involves bureaucratic oversight that limits individual autonomy and choice.
By positioning the state as the primary agent of justice and provider of welfare, progressive policies foster dependency, where citizens rely increasingly on government support rather than personal initiative or voluntary associations. Over time, this dynamic erodes the very freedoms progressives claim to protect, as the scope of individual responsibility shrinks and the power of centralized authority grows—an outcome that classical liberals like FA Hayek warn against as a subtle but inevitable path to servitude. Mamet admits to Bannon that his engagement with Hayek was one of the things that changed his mind.
The distinction between liberalism and progressivism is usefully articulated in the works of Hayek, particularly The Road to Serfdom (1945) and The Constitution of Liberty (1960). While Hayek does not refer to progressivism in his writings, when he speaks of socialism he is describing central economic planning, expansion of state control over the economy, and erosion of individual liberty through collectivist policies—the logic of the corporate state progressives advance and defend. Hayek offers a warning: that the well-intentioned interventions of such a state does lead not to liberation but to a form of servitude I have described as neofeudalism.
I do not agree with Hayek’s definition of socialism although I do agree that what he is describing threatens individual freedom because central planning—which progressivism moves from the state to the corporate oligarchy—inevitably concentrates power, suppresses spontaneous market order, and undermines personal autonomy. Hayek warned that even democratic attempts to implement this model would gradually lead to coercion, as the state would need ever more authority to enforce its economic decisions and resolve conflicts among competing interests.
In contrast, I define socialism as worker ownership and control of the means of production. In what we might describe as libertarian or market socialism, the people reject centralized state control and emphasizes decentralized, democratic control by workers. This vision sees socialism not as a technocratic state bureaucracy but as a radical democratization of economic life. In this framework, coercion and dependency are not inherent, but rather are what socialists seek to eliminate by dismantling corporate hierarchies and ending alienation in production.
Progressivism is the opposite of socialism. Progressivism is an ideology of corporatism. Thus, when I refer to progressivism throughout this essay (and across my work) I am not taking about something analogous to socialism as I have described it, but the praxis of technocrats in the service of the corporate state, which is a beast of late capitalism. To be sure, corporatism’s bureaucratic-managerial spirit has parallels to the state socialism of the Soviet Union, but in the latter arrangement social class was largely eliminated and the ruling class was political not economic. As for the state socialism of the Chinese Communist Party, here we see convergence with Western corporatism since China turned to capitalism to modernize its society in the late 1970s.
What do we mean by liberalism? Classical liberalism is rooted in the conviction that liberty is best preserved when government power is limited and individuals are free to pursue their own ends within a framework of general rules. The commitment to liberty among America’s Founding Fathers is the paradigm, evidenced in the principles laid out in the Declaration of Independence and the US Constitution. The Founders believed that liberty is not granted by government, but is an inherent right endowed by a Creator—the Laws of Nature and Nature’s God—and that government exists primarily to protect these rights.
To preserve freedom, the Founders designed a system of limited government, rooted in checks and balances, federalism, and the rule of law. They feared concentrated power and understood that true liberty flourishes when individuals are free to pursue their own goals, provided they do so peacefully within a stable framework of general laws that apply equally to all. This vision gave rise to a republic in which individual enterprise, personal responsibility, and private property were celebrated as essential to human flourishing. And so has America flourished—to the extend that it has pursued the American System established at its founding.
Among the foundations that has made the United States so successful is the Enlightenment and its roots in the Judeo-Christian ethic. Hayek acknowledges the historical role of Judeo-Christian ethics in shaping the moral foundations of Western civilization and the rule of law. But his moral theory is more evolutionary than revelatory. In The Fatal Conceit (1988), Hayek argues that moral traditions evolve through cultural selection and that religion may serve a functional role in maintaining social order. Like many of the Founders, Hayek approached the matter from a secular perspective rather than one of personal religious conviction.
By cultural selection Hayek means that customs, institutions, norms, and values evolve over time through a process analogous to natural selection in biology. Instead of genetic traits being passed on for survival advantages, cultural practices persist and spread when they help societies function more effectively or people adapt better to their environments. Many of our moral traditions—e.g., respect for contract enforcement, family structure, property rights, even religious codes—were not consciously designed, but rather evolved over generations. This was because they contributed to social stability and prosperity. Societies that adopted effective norms were more likely to survive and thrive, and those norms were passed down and imitated. We can judge the relative efficacy of normative systems by comparing them.
This evolutionary conception is a general principle for Hayek. What works in civilization comes from trial and error across generations—not from centralized planning. Cultural selection explains how spontaneous order arises: institutions and traditions that work are retained and those that don’t discarded, even if we don’t fully understand how or why at first. Useful social practices survive and spread not by deliberate design, but because they help societies succeed. It is our role as social scientists to describe and explain the development and success of institutions and traditions—not to elevate our status to that of world planner.
Liberty has proven itself to be central to social progress. In The Constitution of Liberty, Hayek describes liberty not as a guarantee of outcomes, but as the absence of coercion by others—especially by the state. This negative conception of liberty—freedom from interference—requires an institutional and legal order that is impartial, non-instructive, and predictable. Such a system facilitates what Hayek calls the “spontaneous order” of society: a self-organizing system in which knowledge is decentralized and individuals, guided by their own purposes, contribute to a dynamic and adaptive social order.
The Founders’ experience with Christianity aligns with Hayek’s evolutionary model through their shared emphasis on moral traditions that foster social order and liberty. The Founders, steeped in Judeo-Christian ethics, viewed liberty as an inherent right endowed by a Creator, as articulated in the Declaration, and designed a system of limited government to protect it. Their Christian-influenced moral framework—emphasizing individual responsibility, property rights, and the rule of law—provided the cultural bedrock for a flourishing republic. While the Founders saw these principles as divinely ordained, Hayek viewed them as products of spontaneous order, selected for their functional benefits over time. Both perspectives converge on the idea that enduring moral traditions, whether seen as God-given or culturally evolved, underpin the institutions—such as constitutional checks and balances or respect for contracts—that sustain a free and prosperous society.
Progressives challenge the sufficiency of Hayek’s model arguing that freedom cannot be truly exercised by those who lack access to material resources or social opportunity. They advocate a positive conception of liberty—freedom through empowerment—often demanding redistributive policies, regulatory oversight, and state-managed welfare programs. Roberto Unger expressed this position in his concept of “super liberalism,” a critique of liberalism that pushes beyond its traditional boundaries, reimagining how individuals can interact in ways that transcend established norms of personal autonomy, rights, and social organization to recover human solidarity.
In Unger’s view, traditional liberalism emphasizes individual rights, personal freedom, and legal structures to protect individuals from interference. However, he argues that liberalism in this conventional form fails to address deeper issues of social inequality, economic disparity, and the limitations imposed by rigid institutional frameworks. This view is inspired by Isiah Berlin’s observation of the distinction between “negative” and “positive” liberty, which was anticipated even earlier by Erich Fromm in his Escape from Freedom (1941). For the record, Hayek doesn’t rule out all social programs for those who need it, rather he warns that central planning is fraught with unintended consequences.
On the surface, progressivism might sound like it’s resonating with Marx’s political project. Both criticize inequality and advocate reforms to improve the lives of ordinary people—at least progressives say this. But they’re very different standpoints. One might say that Marx had something a little more radical in mind. While progressivism has historically worked within the corporatist framework, indeed, it is an animal of capitalism, Marx envisioned a revolutionary restructuring of society—abolishing class divisions and private ownership of the means of production.
From the beginning, American progressivism sought to overthrow capitalism but to harmonize relations between business, labor, and government through expert-driven administration, regulation, and social programs. Rather than empowering the working class to take control of production, progressives aimed to temper capitalism’s excesses in order to ensure its survival—thus extending and entrenching corporate hegemony over the populace. Progressivism is thus a managerial and technocratic project, far removed from Marx’s call for proletarian revolution to end social class. In the progressive mind, the proletariat is organized by the state, with control externalized to corporate governance. For Marx, with the elimination of social class, the state goes away.
Hayek rejected all of this—except concerning the matter of free trade. Let me address this straightaway, since I recently critiqued Marx’s position on the matter (see Marx the Accelerationist: Free Trade and the Radical Case for Protectionism). Both Marx and progressives advocate free trade, albeit for very different reasons. Marx was an accelerationist, seeing in free trade a hastened end to capitalism as national pursued a race to the bottom. This would clear the way for communism—a classless and stateless world system where man would be emancipated from necessary labor (AI will accomplish this without a communist revolution). Progressives see in free trade a global world order where the world’s population would be under the thumb of a world state run by transnational corporations. Thus, for their own projects, both Marx and progressives are critical of protectionism.
Hayek supported free trade for a very different reason. He believed that free trade on the world stage was crucial for preserving individual liberty and limiting the scope of state power. He viewed protectionism not just as economically inefficient, but as a step toward nationalism and centralized economic planning—forces he saw as threats to freedom. By contrast, a global system of free trade encourages competition, innovation, and the efficient allocation of resources based on comparative advantage, which presumes imperialism is not transforming foreign economies. For Hayek, global economic interdependence acted as a constraint on national governments’ ability to manipulate domestic markets for political ends.
Moreover, as a sociological point that I will discuss forthwith, Hayek viewed the world market as a spontaneously ordered system—an emergent outcome of voluntary interactions across borders. Free trade, then, was not merely a technical policy preference; it was a reflection of his deeper conviction that human prosperity depends on respecting the limits of our knowledge and allowing decentralized systems, like global markets, to function without coercive interference. In this sense, free trade was part of his broader vision of an open, liberal international order that safeguards both freedom and peace.
With that out of the way, let’s get to the ethical core of Hayek’s standpoint. In The Road to Serfdom, Hayek argues that economic planning and centralized decision-making, even when motivated by egalitarian aims, are fundamentally incompatible with individual liberty. When government assumes responsibility for securing particular social outcomes, it must necessarily infringe on the private choices of citizens, leading inevitably to a society governed by coercion rather than consent.
A central danger of progressivism thus lies in its implicit faith in centralized authority and technocratic expertise. To implement social reforms, redistribute wealth, and regulate markets, the state must gather information, prioritize among competing interest, and make value judgments—functions that cannot be performed impartially or without political bias. This necessarily undermines the rule of law, as state actions are no longer governed by general principles but by ad hoc decisions tailored to policy goals. The result is an administrative state that exercises discretionary power, often in ways that are opaque, unaccountable, and resistant to public scrutiny. The rule of law becomes the rule of bureaucrats. This is the very definition of bureaucracy: a system of government in which most of the important decisions are made by state officials rather than by elected representatives.
Moreover, Hayek argues that the expansion of the welfare state cultivates dependency and weakens the moral fabric of a free society. In The Constitution of Liberty, as suggested earlier, he acknowledges that a minimal social safety net may be compatible with liberty; however, as welfare systems grow more comprehensive and intrusive, they shift the relationship between the individual and the state. Citizens begin to look to government not as the protector of their rights, but as the provider of benefits. The paternalistic relationship fosters a compliant and passive public, eroding the virtues of initiative, personal responsibility, and self-reliance.
Progressivism thus redefines freedom not as the absence of coercion, but as access to goods and services deemed necessary by the technocrats. If one is charitable, he might say that this the unintended consequence of pursing positive liberty. Whatever the motive behind it, the end is destructive to liberty. This new vision of freedom requires constant interference with individual judgment, private property, and voluntary exchange. As more areas of life come under public control— education, employment, healthcare, even speech—the space for private decision-making contracts and freedom diminishes. The apparatus of the state grows not only in size but in moral authority, becoming the arbiter of fairness, inclusion, and even truth.
The paradox is obvious: in the name of freedom, progressivism builds economic and political structures that reduce individuals to clients of the state, dependent on its favor and bound by its mandates. Liberals—real liberals—refuse to sacrifice freedom for illusory gains in equality or security, insisting that liberty is both the means and the end of a good society. A real liberal is what Mamet has become now that he has freed his mind from the progressive tribe. It is therefore disappointing that he has assumed the way the term is used by progressives to cover for the tyranny of progressivism.
The difference between liberalism and progressivism is not merely one of degree or policy preference, but of principle. Liberalism seeks to protect individuals from coercion; progressivism seeks to use coercion for what it deems the common good. What is the common good? What is good for the corporate elite. The social programs exist to control the masses. While progressives claim to empower individuals through redistribution and regulation, Hayek shows that such empowerment is an illusion—one that comes at the cost of liberty, leading to technocratic control and widespread dependency.
Returning the globalization problematic, as I explained in that recent essay I cited above, libertarians today are supportive of immigration which brings them into a strange alliance with Marx, for the same reason, namely wage suppression, albeit not with the same desired outcome. Both understand that driving down wages is what capitalist firms do: slash labor costs to maximize the surplus value in production. As Marx documents in Capital, displacement and impoverishment of labor makes difficult realizing as profit the value contained in commodities in the market, since it is by consumption that the worker completes the circuit—and all the cheap commodities in the world won’t mask the plunge in wages and disappearance of jobs. Libertarians reject Marx’s prediction, so full steam ahead.
Although Hayek favored open borders in principle, as do many libertarians, he acknowledged possible complications. In some of his later comments and writings, he recognized that immigration could raise issues if newcomers do not assimilate into the cultural or institutional framework of liberal society. Hayek was concerned in particular with the preservation of liberal institutions. If immigration brought in large numbers of people with illiberal values or expectations of a welfare state, this could pose a threat to a free society. While Hayek never advocated strong immigration controls as a solution to this problem, he was likely to argue that liberal institutions must be robust and that welfare systems should be designed in ways that don’t incentivize dependency.
Hayek is not alone in this concern. Classical liberals such John Locke (implicitly), and more recently thinkers such as James Buchanan and Milton Friedman have emphasized that liberal institutions require a stable framework of laws, norms, and values. If large-scale immigration introduces populations that do not share or support these norms (e.g., free speech, limited government, and property rights), it could undermine those institutions over time. Borders thus serve as a filter to ensure political assimilation and institutional continuity. Friedman famously argued that a society can’t have both open borders and a welfare state. Immigrants may vote for expanded government benefits or regulatory policies that classical liberals oppose. In other words, immigrants are likely to vote for progressives. From this perspective, some level of border control is seen as a way to prevent the political feedback loop that leads to more statism.
Some classical liberals, particularly those influenced by libertarian property-rights theory (e.g., Hans-Hermann Hoppe), argue that just as individuals have the right to control access to their own property, political communities should have the right to control who enters their territory. This is framed not as a collectivist claim but as an extension of voluntary association and contract. If citizens do not consent to the entry of outsiders, forced integration violates classical liberal principles of individual sovereignty.
Despite the default set on free trade, borders are viewed from this standpoint as necessary to uphold the rule of law, also a core tenet of classical liberalism. Liberty requires certain cultural preconditions: acceptance of pluralism, respect for norms, and rule-following behavior. These traits are not universally distributed, therefore societies must carefully manage immigration to preserve the cultural substrate necessary for freedom. Sudden or unmanaged flows of people overwhelms administrative and legal systems, leading to disorder. Borders ensure that migration is conducted through predictable legal processes, preserving the integrity of the legal order. Classical liberals who support borders do so not out of hostility to outsiders, but from a belief that liberty is fragile and depends on institutional and cultural conditions that can be disrupted by poorly managed migration. They view border controls as a prudential, not moral, safeguard for liberal democracy and limited government.
In light of the fact that progressives have weakened liberal institutions and established an expansive welfare state, Hayek’s view on open borders has to be reassessed. Nationalism, when grounded in civic identity rather than ethnic exclusion, can serve as a crucial force in preserving the cultural and institutional framework that sustains liberal societies. As Hayek recognized, liberal institutions—such as individual rights, limited government, and the rule of law—are not self-perpetuating; they rely on a shared cultural commitment to certain values like respect for pluralism, responsibility, and tolerance.
In a context of open borders, where large-scale immigration might introduce populations with illiberal norms or expectations incompatible with free market democracy, a cohesive national identity can help integrate newcomers into the liberal tradition. Nationalism, in this civic sense, fosters a common language of rights and duties, encouraging assimilation into the political culture rather than fragmentation into parallel societies. It acts as a social glue that maintains the trust and cooperation necessary for liberal institutions to function. Rather than being in tension with liberalism, a principled form of nationalism can provide the cultural continuity and civic loyalty that protect liberal societies from erosion—especially in an era of global movement and ideological divergence.
It might strike readers as a bit schizophrenic to profess liberal and republican principles and values while at the same time working from a historical materialist standpoint. I have said this before, but my view is that Karl Marx’s materialist conception of history should be the paradigm of the social science. Marx is to social history what Darwin is to natural history.
However, in many ways, Marx was a liberal, particularly in his foundational commitments to individual freedom and rational progress—core tenets of the Enlightenment. He saw capitalism as a dynamic and progressive economic force in history, washing away the old order of things and transforming the world. Marx believed in the transformative power of reason and history. And, like many liberals, Marx’s emphasis on individual freedom of thought and skepticism toward traditional authority brought him to a critical view of organized religion.
Marx’s critique of capitalism, while radical, was rooted in liberal ideals: capitalism had failed to deliver on the promises of quality and liberty liberals espoused. Social class was the obstacle. Marx advocated pushing liberalism to its logical conclusion—true freedom requires not just political rights, but collective control over the conditions of life. Marx’s vision of communism was not merely establishing economic equality but freeing individuals from alienation and enabling them to fully realize their human potential. He believed wiping away social class would make that possible.
As I implied above, the Fourth Industrial Revolution and the coming of agentic AI will radically change class relations. Either humanity will enter a new Dark Ages where a dwindling population will be managed on high-tech estates controlled by corporate overlords or the people will take possession of the apparatus and use it to generate commodities and services in a new economy without value. Both Locke and Marx agree that labor is the source of value. It follows that all value disappears with the elimination of necessary labor. Ernest Mandel told us about this back in 1967 (see The End of Work and Value). The question of which end we desire depends on whether we wish to preserve liberty or live as serfs.
freedom and reason 