EXCLUSIVE: University Hit With New Complaint After Dean Confirms Hidden DEI Curriculum
'Overwhelming evidence'
“Who will rid us of this meddlesome philosopher?”
Arizona State University hopes the Arizona Supreme Court will. I’m confident that my case against required diversity, equity, and inclusion training raises issues far larger than one professor or one ideological program. Fundamental questions about employee rights, public accountability, and the rule of law hang in the balance.
If I succeed in showing that ASU bears legal responsibility — and that employees can hold it accountable — the implications reach far beyond one HR program.
Why would the largest state university in the country defend mandatory DEI training in court? Why would it spend thousands — likely tens of thousands — defending its “inclusive communities” training, a program that teaches employees about the alleged moral and social failures of “whiteness” and “heteronormativity”?
The answer defies common sense. Yet ASU presses forward. In doing so, it has turned what many dismiss as a culture-war skirmish into an employment-rights case with statewide consequences.
Most people hear “DEI” and instantly map the political lines. This case deserves a different reaction. Required ideological training should make any employee — left, right, or indifferent — pay attention.
First, the training relies on racial essentialism. It instructs ASU employees to view themselves and others primarily through skin color, then assigns moral weight and collective guilt on that basis.
Second, it attacks traditional Christian moral teaching, especially marriage as the union of a man and a woman.
Either flaw should have pushed administrators to retire the program long before I raised formal objections.
A third issue should unite every employee, regardless of where they stand on DEI: ASU treated this as an employment matter. The university did not admit error, revise the program, and move on. It hired Perkins Coie to defend racial essentialism. Yes, Perkins Coie — the firm widely associated with the Hillary Clinton-era Steele dossier controversy. ASU employs a full team of in-house attorneys. Why pay a nationally prominent and politically charged firm to defend a training program many already viewed as controversial — and, I argue, unlawful?
ASU’s posture gets stranger. The university has since taken down the required training, yet it continues paying lawyers to defend it in court. When this ends, Arizona lawmakers and taxpayers will want a number: How much did ASU spend on legal fees, and which administrators approved the contracts?
RELATED: Feds probe ASU for racial bias — will other universities be held accountable?

ASU’s legal strategy aims at dismissal. The university claims I lack standing. Put plainly, ASU argues that an employee cannot hold his public employer accountable for violating state law. At that point, the dispute stops being about DEI and becomes about every employee in Arizona. If ASU wins at the Arizona Supreme Court, employees across the state lose a crucial tool for legal accountability.
Professors to my political left may sneer at my critique of DEI. They should still worry about the precedent.
Imagine a scenario pulled from their nightmares: A future administration takes over ASU and imposes mandatory ideological training from the opposite end of the political spectrum — required ICE-themed training, or MAGA-themed training. If that training violated Arizona law, those same professors would demand the right to sue. ASU’s argument would bar them. This case concerns enforceable employee rights, not just contemporary politics.
ASU’s first bid to dismiss the case failed. A lower court rejected the university’s argument. ASU appealed, and the appellate court sided with the university. That posture put the case on a path to the Arizona Supreme Court.
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Two facts matter here. The Arizona Senate and the state representative who authored the law I claim ASU violated have filed an amicus brief supporting my position. Their message is simple: A public employee has standing to hold a public employer accountable for breaking the law. The statute prohibits the kind of racial blame and collective guilt that ASU’s training promoted. The principle should not require explanation: Don’t assign moral fault to entire groups based on skin color.
So why does ASU defend this?
Because ASU does not view this fight as one training module that can be swapped out and forgotten. Race-based blame sits near the center of the contemporary left’s approach to education. If I succeed in showing that ASU bears legal responsibility — and that employees can hold it accountable — the implications reach far beyond one HR program. ASU’s initiatives aimed at combatting “whiteness” would come under scrutiny. Its embedded social justice goals face legal challenge and public examination. Students could follow with suits over race blame in a “decolonized curriculum.”
“Who will rid us of this meddlesome philosopher?” ASU really hopes the Arizona Supreme Court will.
Every employee in Arizona should watch what happens next. The outcome will determine whether public institutions answer to the law — or whether employees must comply silently, no matter what ideology administrators impose from above.
It’s Christmastime, and you can feel the shift in the air.
Something has changed in the nation’s mood. People smile more easily. Familiar music returns. And — quietly but unmistakably — you can say “Merry Christmas” again without apologizing for it. The president of the United States quotes the Gospel of John when he speaks about Jesus.
Christians need to face a hard truth: The truce was a mistake.
For a few short weeks, Americans remember what this season is actually about. Not a generic winter festival. Not a vague celebration of “light” or “togetherness.” But the birth of Jesus Christ — a real event in history that changed everything.
For centuries, Christians have marked this season to reflect on the incarnation of the Son of God. “Christ is the reason for the season” is not a slogan; it is a confession. God entered history. He took on flesh. He came to save sinners. Christianity is not built on myth or metaphor but on eyewitness testimony to what actually happened.
America is now remembering — haltingly, imperfectly — the central role of Christ in its own history. That recovery follows decades of effort by atheists and secular ideologues to banish Christ from the public square. Unfortunately, Christians largely agreed to the truce that made this possible. They kept their faith private while Marxists were happy to occupy public education.
In the 1960s, American Christians accepted what amounted to a truce. I half-jokingly call it the Madalyn Murray O’Hair deal. The now largely forgotten atheist activist sued to remove prayer and biblical instruction from public schools. Christians acquiesced. Public education, they were told, would be “neutral.” Religion would be kept out. Faith would be private.
Christians kept their side of the deal.
The Marxists did not — because they never agreed to one. They announced their intentions openly. They promised to march through the institutions, and they did. Universities filled with faculty who identify as left or far left and who teach Marxist frameworks as settled truth.
Today, it is easier to find a committed Marxist on campus than a practicing Christian.
For 60 years, Marxist philosophy crept into K-12 education and then saturated higher education. What was once smuggled in under euphemism is now proudly declared. Professors announce their ideology on syllabi and use taxpayer dollars to teach students that America is structurally racist and that “whiteness” is a form of oppression.
There was never neutrality. There was only a vacuum — and Marxism rushed in to fill it.
I saw this emptiness firsthand on my own campus at Arizona State University.
At ASU’s West Valley campus, administrators recently installed a “winter wonderland” display. Not Christmas lights — “winter” lights. Decorations carefully stripped of any reference to Christ. The existential meaninglessness was almost overwhelming.
Lights were strung up to flicker briefly in the darkness before being taken down and discarded. What did it mean? What did it point to beyond itself?
Or, as Hemingway wrote, was it simply nada y pues nada y pues nada — nothing, and then nothing, and then nothing?
This is what happens when you preserve form while evacuating content. Ritual without meaning. Celebration without hope. Light without truth.
Christmas is the opposite of that.
Christmas does not offer a vague lesson about darkness giving way to light. It proclaims that Jesus Christ is the light of the world. It is not a symbolic story to be endlessly reinterpreted but a declaration that Christ was born in history, of a virgin, in fulfillment of prophecy, to redeem a fallen world.
That is why efforts to drain Christmas of its meaning always feel strained. When leftists substitute “winter celebrations” and “seasonal observances,” they do not offer neutrality. They offer emptiness — sometimes dressed up as inclusion, sometimes as bureaucracy, sometimes as pagan revivalism. Light shows without the Logos. Rituals without redemption.
Christians need to face a hard truth: The truce was a mistake.
There is no neutral education. There never has been. Every curriculum conveys values. Every institution forms souls. The only question is whether students will be formed in the light of Christ or in the ideology of those who openly despise Him.
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Christmas exposes the lie of neutrality. It reminds us that history has meaning, that truth entered the world, and that human beings answer to something higher than administrative guidelines or ideological fashion.
So this year, I am not whispering, “Happy Holidays.” I am saying, “Merry Christmas” — to students, to colleagues, to anyone who will hear it.
Parents and students should remember something crucial: Universities answer to you. You are not passive consumers. You set expectations. You decide what kind of formation is acceptable.
When you see your professors, say, “Merry Christmas.” Say it cheerfully. Say it unapologetically. What you are affirming is not sentiment but truth: that Christ came into the world, and no amount of bureaucratic rebranding can erase Him.
The lights will flicker and fade. Christ will not.
Merry Christmas.
Last week, Arizona State University’s provost sent faculty another familiar message ahead of the spring semester: Ensure all digital course materials meet accessibility standards. After 25 years teaching philosophy at ASU, I’m well aware of the institution’s growth and its long-standing commitment to accessibility. That commitment, in itself, is not controversial.
But recent data should give universities serious pause.
A society can medicalize despair, bureaucratize despair, and accommodate despair. None of that answers the question despair is asking.
Two reports — one from the Harvard Crimson and another from the Atlantic — put numbers to what many faculty have observed for years. At Harvard, 21% of undergraduates received disability accommodations in 2024, up from roughly 3% a decade earlier. The Crimson notes that Harvard is now aligned with a national average hovering around 20%.
The Atlantic goes further, describing what it calls an “age of accommodation” at elite schools. At Brown and Harvard, more than 20% of students are registered as disabled. At Amherst, the figure reaches 34%. The most common accommodation, professors report, is extra time on exams.
To be clear, accommodations for genuine physical disabilities are not in dispute. A wheelchair ramp is not a moral scandal. A student with a real impairment should not be excluded from education. That principle remains sound.
What has changed is the nature of disability itself.
Both articles describe a shift away from visible, physical impairments toward diagnoses that are invisible, elastic, and difficult to distinguish from ordinary hardship in a competitive academic environment. ADHD, anxiety, and depression now dominate accommodation requests, treated as qualifying disabilities under the Americans with Disabilities Act framework. The Crimson ties much of this surge to the COVID era, quoting one professor who described the pandemic as a “mass disabling event.”
That explanation may be partly true. Many students are not gaming the system; they are shaped by it. But even granting that, the trend raises three problems universities can no longer dodge.
First is fairness. When extra time becomes widespread — especially among high-performing, well-resourced students — faculty are right to wonder whether accommodations are providing access or advantage.
The Crimson acknowledges faculty suspicion that accommodations are used to “eke out advantages.” The Atlantic warns that a system designed to level the playing field can begin to distort the very meaning of fairness.
Second is standards. If a significant share of students receive individualized modifications — extra time, deadline extensions, alternate testing environments — then faculty must ask an uncomfortable question administrators prefer to avoid: Is the course still the same course?
Exams exist to measure knowledge and skill under shared constraints. Remove those constraints for many students, and results no longer mean the same thing. At best, the system becomes two-track. At worst, rigor is quietly redefined as cruelty and education collapses into credentialing.
Third — and most important — is meaning.
If vast numbers of young adults now pass through education labeled as anxious and depressed, and if that diagnosis becomes the gateway to academic survival, we should ask what kind of culture we have built. What account of life, purpose, and human flourishing are students receiving in K-12 and college?
For years, students have been immersed in a worldview that frames them primarily as victims — of structures, systems, identities, and histories beyond their control. They are told meaning is socially constructed, morality is relative, and human beings are little more than biological accidents shaped by power. Hardship, in this framework, becomes pathology. Suffering becomes injustice. Endurance becomes oppression.
At that point, anxiety and depression cease to be merely medical categories. They become rational responses to a life stripped of purpose.
Here the philosopher cannot remain silent. A society can medicalize despair, bureaucratize despair, and accommodate despair. None of that answers the question despair is asking.
Have we taught students how to face difficulty? To endure frustration? To pursue excellence despite pain? Or have we trained them to interpret hardship as harm — and then rewarded that interpretation with institutional permission slips?
The philosopher Westley (disguised as the Dread Pirate Roberts) said, “Life is pain, highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.” But there is suffering, and there is suffering well to attain what is good. We stopped teaching this, and the young adults are experiencing the consequences.
RELATED: Christian students are pushing back — and universities are cracking

Universities love to talk about “student success.” But education is not merely success. It is formation. And formation requires truth: truth about what a human being is, what suffering is for, what excellence demands, and what life ultimately aims at.
When universities exile God, moral realism, and any shared account of human purpose, they should not be surprised when students seek refuge in medicalized identities that turn pain into paperwork.
This crisis is not simply about abuse of accommodations or even about mental health statistics. It is about whether higher education can still tell students the truth: that limits are not always oppression, that hardship is not always injustice, that discipline precedes freedom, and that meaning is discovered, not administered.
If universities cannot say why education aims at the highest good, then they should not be shocked when students conclude it means nothing — and despair follows.
It is time to return education to what it was meant to be: the formation of souls ordered toward wisdom and virtue.
As one of the last conservative Christians serving as a tenured philosophy professor at a public university, I’ve had a front-row seat to the intellectual circus that critical theory and intersectionality have unleashed on higher education. I call it out on X and Substack. Professors from ASU’s Barrett Honors College and English Department have attacked me for doing so, calling me a “joke” and a “sloppy thinker.” This is the abuse anyone receives for defending God’s word.
But something new — and encouraging — is happening.
Christian students are speaking up. They are filing complaints. They openly quote Scripture in their assignments. And in this case, the university backed down.
Students are calling it out, too.
Last week at the University of Oklahoma, two instructors were removed for blatant viewpoint discrimination against a Christian student. If even 5% of cases like this see daylight, the DEI structure will start to crack within the academic year. If the polls are right, 97% of faculty identify as left or far left. What we see now — open disdain for Scripture — is not an anomaly. It’s the visible edge of a worldview that has captured entire campuses.
Beneath the surface sits the full intersectional framework, built on one central assumption: Christianity is the axle around which oppression supposedly turns.
The student’s psychology assignment was simple: a 650-word response to a study about gender norms and bullying among middle-schoolers.
She wrote: “Society pushing the lie that there are multiple genders and everyone should be whatever they want to be is demonic and severely harms American youth.”
She grounded her argument in Genesis, explained God’s creation of male and female, and correctly defined ezer kenegdo as “a helper equal to man.”
In short, she used: Scripture, theology, linguistic analysis, and a historical ethical framework. That is a well-reasoned paper in the humanities. Except when the worldview is Christian.
The instructor’s response?
“Your reaction paper contradicts itself, uses personal ideology over empirical evidence, and is at times offensive.”
And then the tell: “Every major psychological, medical, pediatric, and psychiatric association acknowledges that sex and gender is neither binary nor fixed.”
This is false. No serious biology text claims human sex is nonbinary. Disorders of development exist, but disorders do not replace design.
The deeper problem stood out like a vegan at a Texas barbecue: The Bible does not count as evidence. Even if the rubric justified deductions, dismissing Scripture as “personal ideology” exposed the bias.
Quote Judith Butler or Michel Foucault, and the academy nods solemnly. Quote the Bible, and you lose points.
The modern university’s dogma is simple: The Bible is never admissible. Everything else is.
Christians have known this for decades and quietly self-censored to protect their grades and academic futures. Which raises the question: How did we arrive here?
Hostility toward Christianity did not appear overnight. It grew slowly through deliberate gatekeeping. Hiring committees screened out conservatives, shaping departments where 90%-97% of faculty became ideological clones. Administrators learned to view biblical faith as bigotry. DEI offices began to enforce viewpoint discrimination while denying it.
Fair hiring does not produce a 97% monoculture. That is ideological capture.
Christians allowed it because they confused niceness with faithfulness. Niceness — a word that never appears in Scripture — is fear disguised as virtue. It keeps people quiet so they can stay liked.
The left used a strategy straight from Marx, who took it straight from the enemy (“devil,” meaning accuser): Accuse Christians of oppression; rewrite history so the West is defined by its sins, never its virtues; demonize Scripture and its adherents; and weaponize shame to silence dissent.
It worked — for a time. The spell is breaking.
Many Christians assumed universities were neutral. They aren’t. They never were.
Every institution aligns with one of two cities: “the City of God” and “the City of Man.”
The City of Man controls the universities. This is not hyperbole. Romans 1 describes it plainly.
Those who reject God do not become neutral observers. They become evangelists for a rival religion. That rival religion has doctrines:
A new orthodoxy rules the campus, and the Oklahoma student violated it — praise God that she did.
Christian students are not taking the abuse quietly any more. They are speaking up. They are filing complaints. They are quoting Scripture openly in their assignments. And in this case, the university backed down. The instructors were removed.
Even on a left-dominated campus, viewpoint discrimination remains illegal — even if DEI treats it as sacred ritual.
If this continues, the monopoly may begin to break — maybe even by spring break.
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As someone inside the system, here is my advice.
Follow those speaking publicly. We are few, but we are here — and we are not silent.
Equip your children. They will face hostility. They will be mocked. They will be graded down unless they can respond intelligently. Ask pointed questions on campus tours. Get administrators on record renouncing DEI discrimination — then hold them to it.
Consider alternatives. Trade schools, Christian colleges, apprenticeships, online programs — all viable. Many offer a serious education without forcing students through gender theory with Judith Butler 101. Seek professors who teach the great works with a biblical foundation.
Speak boldly. The gospel is not a whisper. “For I am not ashamed of the gospel,” the Apostle Paul writes in Romans, “for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes.”
Christian students are rediscovering that courage. It is long past time the rest of us did, too.
At Arizona State University, where I teach, faculty were recently told to “decolonize our curriculum.” On the surface, the directive sounded progressive: Expose power structures, elevate marginalized voices, and promote inclusion. But a closer look revealed something deeper.
“Decolonization,” as defined by many academic theorists, has less to do with confronting material exploitation and far more to do with dismantling the Christian worldview itself.
Leftists celebrate the new archbishop as a victory for progress. Yet the victory coincides with the collapse of the church that achieved it.
In today’s universities, decolonization has become a framework for deconstructing Western civilization — its moral assumptions, its epistemology, and, most of all, its biblical foundations. The movement borrows heavily from Marxism: Everything becomes a struggle between oppressors and oppressed, and redemption comes not through faith but through revolution.
Christianity has long condemned greed, injustice, and oppression. It calls for compassion, justice, and humility. The biblical ethic already provides a moral standard against exploitation. What “decolonization” targets, then, is not exploitation itself but the very source of the Christian moral order: creation, sin, redemption, and divine authority. Strip those away, and what’s left is a vacuum quickly filled by ideology — Marxism, postmodernism, or nihilism disguised as liberation. Think Antifa in the ivory tower.
That same dynamic now defines the Church of England. The recent appointment of Sarah Mullally as archbishop of Canterbury — the first woman ever to hold the title — was heralded as a triumph for “equity” and “representation.” Yet the decision has fractured the Anglican Communion. Churches in Africa and the Global South have declared they will no longer recognize Canterbury’s authority.
Their leaders insist the move abandons biblical teaching: The pastoral office, they say, is reserved for men — not as a symbol of domination but as a form of service patterned after the Old Testament priesthood and Christ Himself. Scripture, not patriarchy, defines this calling.
The irony is painful. The very church that once sent missionaries to Africa now lectures African believers on theology — in the name of “decolonization.” British progressives who claim to defend the oppressed now reject the self-governing authority of African churches, imposing instead a white, European moral framework they no longer believe in.
The academic rationale behind this mirrors what I see on campus. In decolonization theory, patriarchy is treated as a system of control, and dismantling it becomes an act of liberation. But the Christian vision of leadership never equated masculinity with power. It defined male pastoral authority as a burden of service, not a privilege.
This distinction matters. In pagan antiquity, priestesses wielded ritual power at Delphi and other shrines, while biblical religion defined priesthood in terms of obedience and sacrifice. Christianity’s inheritance of that pattern was countercultural — not oppressive. To erase that distinction under the banner of equality is to mistake service for subjugation and hierarchy for injustice.
Leftists celebrate the new archbishop as a victory for progress. Yet the victory coincides with the collapse of the church that achieved it. Attendance across England has cratered; belief is evaporating. The light they claim to be spreading has gone out.
Meanwhile, Christianity burns brightly in the very regions now scolded for their “backwardness.” African churches remain faithful, growing, and theologically vibrant — a continuity stretching back to Augustine of Hippo, the African theologian whose writings shaped European Christianity for a millennium.
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If decolonization truly sought to redistribute power, it would look to Augustine’s model: a church grounded in scripture, not ideology; global, not provincial; rooted in divine order, not social theory.
When my university asks me to “decolonize” my teaching, I ask in return: into what? If the answer is Marx, Freud, or Foucault — the very European thinkers who replaced faith with power analysis — then the process is just another colonization under a different name.
But if the goal is to return to the Bible’s vision of creation, fall, redemption, and service under Christ, then by all means, decolonize. Reclaim what ideology stole. Because the alternative is what we now see in England — a church that traded revelation for relevance and ended up preaching nothing at all.
Christians should take heed: The light leaving Canterbury won’t stay confined to England.
Last week, a Turning Point USA student at Arizona State University found an Antifa recruitment brochure on campus. It looked like a fourth-grader’s art project, leading some to suspect it might have been a class assignment — perhaps an attempt by a sympathetic professor to portray Antifa as “not all that bad.” But the flyer included a real Instagram handle, suggesting a more deliberate effort than a student prank.
So what exactly is Antifa, and why does it still find support among radical professors?
At first glance, “Antifa,” short for “anti-fascism,” seems harmless or even virtuous. After all, who would oppose being against fascism? But the real question is: What does Antifa mean by “fascism”?
Fascism and communism are rival branches of the same ideological tree — the radical left.
Historically, Italian dictator Benito Mussolini coined the term “fascism,” defining it as the belief that “everything is in the State, nothing outside the State, nothing against the State.” Fascism was a form of totalitarian national socialism that made the state the highest authority in human life. Every other institution — church, family, business, education — was expected to exist only under state control. Far from being a right-wing ideology, as popular myth holds, fascism emerged from the revolutionary left.
Fascists and communists share more than they admit. Both demand total control of society under the pretense of “fixing” human problems. The difference lies in scale. Fascists exalt the nation; communists exalt the world.
The easiest way to spot a communist is to find the professor shouting loudest about “fascism.” The two are rival branches of the same ideological tree — the radical left. Both trace their roots to the French Revolution and Marxism, in sharp contrast to the liberty-born ideals of the American Revolution.
Jean-Jacques Rousseau, the philosophical father of modern revolution, claimed humans are born good but “everywhere in chains.” Evil, he said, began with private property. Those who own property define crime, allowing them to oppress everyone else. His cure was the “general will” — the supposed collective will of the people expressed through the state. Every new tyrant since has claimed to know exactly what that will demands.
Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel built on Rousseau with his idea that history advances through conflict, a process he called the “dialectic.” Karl Marx stripped Hegel’s theory of its spiritual elements and turned it into the “materialist dialectic.” To Marx, all history is a struggle over material resources and capital. Religion, morality, and family were mere disguises for economic power.
This logic birthed the Marxist slogan “Workers of the world, unite!” and set the stage for revolutions in Russia and Germany. When fascists in Germany blocked the communist uprising, Antifaschistische Aktion — Antifa — was born.
Modern Antifa isn’t formally descended from the 1930s German movement, but its ideology hasn’t changed. The group still defines itself by opposition, not by principle.
Antifa claims to fight “oppression,” yet it chooses its targets selectively. Members denounce slavery from centuries past but ignore the slave markets that still operate in parts of Africa and the Middle East. Their real enemy isn’t tyranny — it’s the West, capitalism, and Christianity.
That’s why Antifa allies with any movement hostile to Western civilization, even those far more oppressive than what Antifa claims to resist. Members excuse such alliances by insisting those groups were “forced” into brutality by Western influence. In Antifa’s worldview, “oppression” means “whiteness,” “heteronormativity,” and Christianity. Belief in personal responsibility, hard work, or the rule of law — the very foundations of ordered liberty — become systems of oppression.
Antifa rejects reform in favor of perpetual revolution — viva la revolución! Its adherents champion “direct action,” not dialogue. Their tactics include doxxing, counter-rallies, vandalism, and physical intimidation — all designed to silence opponents by fear, not reason. Logic itself, they argue, is a “tool of oppression.” The result is an ideology that devours itself: incoherent, emotional, and rooted in will, not intellect.
Fascists and communists may fight each other, but they share one deeper hatred — the hatred of God.
A Hispanic Christian friend of mine pursuing a degree in Latin American studies once told me his professor said, “Ché su Cristo” — Ché as Christ. To this professor, revolutionary violence was redemptive. For many radicals, Ché Guevara is the true messiah; salvation comes not through grace but through destruction.
They don’t debate ideas — they annihilate opponents. That’s why they despise people like Charlie Kirk. He represented everything they can’t: clear reasoning, coherent argument, and defense of the American Revolution’s principles — limited government, ordered liberty, and faith in God.

The American Revolution recognized that the state is not supreme. It is one institution among others — family, church, and business, each with its own God-given role. The state’s proper duty is limited: to punish wrongdoing and protect the innocent. That vision of ordered liberty is written plainly into the Constitution’s preamble.
America’s founders built a republic — a government under law, lex rex — “the law is king.” They believed that God’s law, revealed in both nature and Scripture, provides the moral order that makes true freedom possible.
At its core, Antifa’s ultimate enemy isn’t any human institution — it is God Himself. Whether its adherents are atheists or occultists, they view God as the oppressor because He gives law. Their rebellion echoes Lucifer’s ancient creed: “Do what thou wilt.” Saul Alinsky, in “Rules for Radicals,” openly admired Lucifer as the arch-rebel. Antifa’s devotion to the sexual revolution and the LGBTQ+ movement flows from the same impulse: the rejection of divine order in favor of self-will.
Fascists and communists may fight each other, but they share one deeper hatred — the hatred of God. Both reject the idea that rights come from a Creator and that moral law defines justice.
America stands in opposition to both. Our republic rests on the conviction that God endows every person with rights and that government exists to protect — not replace — the moral order rooted in divine law. No state can perfect humanity. Salvation from sin and death comes only through Christ.
That makes Christianity, not Marxism or fascism, the true enemy of tyranny.
As we defend Christian truth in public life, we must do so with discernment, knowing that our opponents’ hatred runs deeper than politics. It is spiritual. And when they finally drop the mask of “tolerance” and “niceness,” they reveal exactly what they’ve always been.
When they tell you who they are and what they hate — believe them.
If you’ve spent any time in politics, you know progressives contradict themselves so often that exposing their double-talk could keep conservative commentators busy for several lifetimes.
At first, young conservatives may find it thrilling to point out those blunders and imagine that the liberal across from them will be persuaded. But here’s the hard lesson: Only people with integrity change their minds when they find contradictions in their own thinking.
The goal isn’t to win the argument but lose your integrity. It’s to speak truth with courage and charity.
Progressives don’t stumble into incoherence by accident. They wield it like a smokescreen. The confusion keeps conscientious conservatives chasing their own tails. Conservatives, by temperament, want coherence, so they expect others to want it, too. But the record shows otherwise.
Take Hillary Clinton. Last week on MSNBC’s “Morning Joe,” she urged Americans to stop finger-pointing — before immediately blaming Republicans for the country’s problems. A Yale degree didn’t inoculate her against incoherence. As Charlie Kirk once observed at Cambridge, high IQ is no guarantee of wisdom. Clinton didn’t notice the contradiction, and even if she did, it wouldn’t matter. She is paid handsomely to talk, and truth never slows her down.
Moments later in the same appearance, she called for a return to “truth-based reality,” insisting that facts and evidence must matter again. This from the same woman who affirms that a man can become a woman. Truth wasn’t invited to that party. Now, she tells us it must rule the day.
The effect is dizzying, and that is the point.
What should concern us isn’t simply the logic game. It’s the condition of her soul. What happens to a soul shaped for decades by falsehood and injustice?
Clinton also revealed her deepest fear. She does not fear God. She fears the people of God — especially white, male Christians. She said so on national television just weeks after Kirk was assassinated by a trans-supporting terrorist who bought into rhetoric spewed by politicians like her. And yet, here she is again, pouring fuel on the fire.
The irony didn’t stop there. She wondered aloud how today’s politics could be “so contrary to the founding principles and values this country was built on.” This from the same politician who treats the Constitution as a “living document” to be reshaped whenever it confounds her political prejudices. She wasn’t concerned with founding principles when Donald Trump was banned from Twitter or prosecuted by the Biden Justice Department.
But pointing out contradictions only goes so far. The deeper warning is this: Hillary Clinton is what happens when you spend a lifetime saying whatever advances your career. She is willing to contradict herself publicly — and attack Christians — for money and applause. My own university, Arizona State, paid her $500,000 to host the Clinton Global Initiative.
Socrates put it best: The true philosopher, the lover of the good, doesn’t chase political power, money, or fame. He wants only this — that when he leaves this life, his soul is not defiled by injustice.
RELATED: Charlie Kirk thrived on truth and virtue over grievance-mongering

That’s the lesson for young conservatives. Exposing contradictions is fine. It can even be fun. But don’t forget what matters more: Never let your soul become like Hillary Clinton’s.
G.K. Chesterton once wrote that the modern mind cuts down the signposts and then complains no one knows the way home. That is the progressive project in our time: Deny first principles, denounce those who keep them, and demand the comforts those principles once secured.
So take this counsel seriously:
The goal isn’t to win the argument but lose your integrity. It’s to speak truth with courage and charity, to resist compromise with evil for the sake of applause, and to leave this world with a soul unstained by injustice.
That victory is higher than anything Hillary Clinton will ever claim — and it is the only victory that lasts.
A comedian lands at Heathrow and finds himself met by officers as though he posed a terrorist threat. His offense? A social media joke about trans people. He’s released on bail on the condition he doesn’t post on X.
Another man prays silently outside the “safe zone” of an abortion clinic and is hauled off, given a two-year conditional discharge, and fined £9,000 (just over $12,000).
We hope Britain pulls up from its nosedive, but let’s not delude ourselves. America faces the same temptations.
A third man waves the Union Jack at a pro-Palestinian march in England — only to be arrested. Reuters quickly ran interference: not for the flag, they said, but for a “racially aggravated public order offence” and “homophobic abuse.” As if that makes it better.
And we’re still not mentioning the Islamic child-rape scandal that grows worse with every new revelation. The United States watches Britain collapse into a kind of Reformation-era persecution, this time in the name of Islam, paganism, and sexual license. Americans shake their heads, maybe reassure themselves: We fought a revolution to escape this. Charles II jailed Christians. Charles III praises Islam. And we have the First Amendment. Case closed.
Not so fast. We may be on the same road. Once you begin policing speech to protect feelings, the end point looks very much like the UK. And we have plenty of warning signs.
Universities may be the clearest early indicator. Professors tell us every profession must “look like” society — except their own. If a field is 97% male, they call it systemic bias. But in the academy itself, where atheists and leftists dominate, they see no problem.
The numbers don’t lie. At Arizona State University, a December 2024 survey found just 19 Republicans among 544 faculty members. At the University of Arizona, only eight Republicans out of 369. Entire departments lacked a single Republican. A 2023 Harvard Crimson study found only 2.5% of Harvard faculty identify as conservative. If any other profession looked this skewed, professors would scream about bias. In their case, they call it “normal.”
And the consequences? They’ll defend freedom of speech for burning an American flag. Burn a trans flag, and suddenly you’ve committed a hate crime. That is one step removed from Graham Linehan’s arrest in the UK for an X post.
Students already know what this means. A 2022 FIRE survey found they self-censor in class. They parrot leftist slogans on gender and race, not because they believe them, but because they want the grade. We are teaching them to lie to advance. No one is being asked to confess Christ; they are being asked to confess Ibram Kendi and John Money.
I’ve seen it firsthand. At ASU’s Honors College, faculty blocked Charlie Kirk, Dennis Prager, and Robert Kiyosaki from speaking, smearing them as “white supremacists.” That label alone was enough to push the event off campus. These professors weren’t interested in argument. They wanted silence.
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How do they justify it? With “hate crimes.” Not crimes that incite violence, but crimes of opinion. Disagree with LGBTQ ideology? That’s hate. Straight to jail. Professors sleep well at night because we’ve accepted their framework: society divided into oppressors and oppressed. Bad outcomes aren’t the result of choices, but of systemic injustice. Victims must be coddled, even at the expense of truth.
Once you accept that, feelings erase the First Amendment.
We need a spine. Sexual sins are real and destructive. Abortion ends a life. A comedian may say this through jokes; a philosopher may say it through essays. Either way, it’s the truth. The mob can gnash its teeth, plug its ears, strip away free speech, and jail comedians, but reality doesn’t change.
We hope Britain pulls up from its nosedive, but let’s not delude ourselves. America faces the same temptations. We must pray for the end of abortion, speak plainly about the damage sexual ideology inflicts on children, and reject the false frame of “oppressors and oppressed.” The real categories are truth and lies. Choose wisely, while you still can.