‘No Kings’ Isn’t Protecting Democracy, But Suppressing It
'No Kings' isn’t a defense of democracy at all. Instead, it’s a defense of the entrenched power of the Democratic Party.I know what it’s like to live in the neighborhoods white liberals only mention when it suits them. I’ve lived on the South Side of Chicago. I’ve lived in Southeast D.C. I’ve seen crime with my own eyes, and I’ve experienced the fear that comes with it.
I’ve walked streets where parents teach their kids to drop at the sound of gunfire. I’ve seen drug corners where police barely bother to show up because they know the system won’t back them. And I’ve watched Democrats — who run these cities decade after decade — pretend nothing is wrong until an election season or a TV crew arrives.
The truth is out. Democrats have failed — in DC, in Chicago, in New York, and across the country.
Every four years, they roll in with cameras and promises. They shake hands, hug babies, stand in front of boarded-up storefronts, and pledge “change.” Then they disappear back to their safe neighborhoods, leaving residents with the same violence, the same fear, and the same hopelessness.
That isn’t leadership. It’s exploitation. I know because I’m a black man who worked as a Democratic staffer not so long ago. I’ve been in the rooms where campaign strategy is written. I’ve heard the cynical playbook: “Do a barbershop tour.” “Visit a black church on Sunday.” Deliver a few lines about “taking back the community” — then roll right back out. When the cameras leave, so do they.
Now, when President Trump does what Democrats refuse to do — when he sends in federal law enforcement and the National Guard to cities that won’t protect their own people — those same white liberals suddenly find their voice. They shriek about “authoritarianism.” They cry about “militarization.” They insist crime is “under control.”
It’s dishonest. It’s insulting. And it proves how little they care about the lives being lost. What they really care about is their four minutes on MSNBC.
Take Washington, D.C. Liberals wave charts claiming violent crime is down. But the city got caught manipulating the numbers. A police commander was placed on leave for allegedly altering stats to make the streets look safer. Whistleblowers confirmed what residents already knew: Violent crimes were downgraded or mislabeled so politicians could maintain the illusion of control. That’s no conspiracy theory. It’s now a federal investigation.
Yet, Democrats still claim Trump’s intervention wasn’t necessary. They say crime is “exaggerated.” They say the city is “safe.” Tell that to families who won’t let their kids walk home after dark. Tell it to small-business owners robbed so often they don’t bother reporting anymore. Tell it to mothers in Anacostia burying their sons while city officials massage the data for press conferences.
Chicago tells the same story. Democrats have ruled the city for generations, but whole neighborhoods on the South and West Sides remain plagued by violence and poverty. I lived there. I saw it. And here’s the truth: Polite white liberals from gentrified districts or leafy suburbs don’t want to see it. They want to protect the illusion that Democrats defend the poor, even as they use these communities as political props.
Chicagoans plead for help at City Council meetings every week, and Democratic aldermen ignore them. No wonder grassroots groups like Chicago Flips Red are gaining ground.
New York is no different. In Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez’s district, major crime has spiked 70% since she took office in 2019 — more than double the citywide average. Residents there say what residents in every Democrat-run city say: Our leaders don’t care. They show up for headlines, then vanish when the bullets start flying.
Donald Trump saw that reality. He campaigned on it. He walked into those neighborhoods and spoke plainly to people who had been ignored for decades. That’s why millions more black voters supported him in 2024 — a political earthquake. It’s a warning to Democrats: Their monopoly on minority voters is collapsing.
White liberals screaming on cable news about Trump’s law-and-order strategy don’t live in the neighborhoods where gunfire is commonplace. They don’t send their kids to the schools where gangs recruit. They don’t shop at the corner stores hit by weekly robberies. They don’t ride the buses or walk the sidewalks ordinary people in D.C., Chicago, and the Bronx walk every day.
They can afford to believe crime is “under control.” They can afford to believe more gun control will fix things, ignoring the obvious truth: Criminals don’t care about your new laws. They can afford denial because they can afford to live somewhere else.
But crime is not under control. It never has been. And until leaders — real leaders — admit it and act, people in these communities will keep suffering. Trump understands that. Democrats never have.
RELATED:Trump to DC: Public safety isn’t optional

So when white liberals lecture that Trump is wrong to send federal law enforcement into cities that can’t protect their residents, I have one question: Where were you? Where were you when crime stole futures and destroyed families? Where were you when Democrats cooked the books to protect their power? Where were you when Biden was in charge or when AOC’s district saw crime explode?
You weren’t there. You didn’t care. And that’s why the Democratic Party is collapsing.
The truth is out. Democrats have failed — in D.C., in Chicago, in New York, and across the country. They’ve failed black voters. They’ve failed working-class Americans. That’s why support for their party sits at record lows. That’s why more voters are walking away.
The future doesn’t belong to the party of denial and decay. It belongs to the people who demand safety, security, and accountability. It belongs to those ready for real change.
Donald Trump is delivering that change. Democrats never will.
President Trump announced Monday that he will federalize control of law enforcement in Washington, D.C. The move follows his threat to act after a brutal attack on a DOGE staffer who tried to defend a woman during a carjacking. National Guard troops will supplement D.C. Metro Police in an effort to quell violent crime. Americans are tired of excuses for why their cities feel dirty and unsafe when we already know how to fix them. Crime is a policy choice, and Trump has taken decisive action with a promise to restore law and order to the nation’s capital.
The United States is the most powerful nation on earth, and Washington is its imperial capital. History shows the state of the capital often mirrors the health of the civilization. The comparison is not flattering. In Japan or Singapore, a woman can walk alone at night without fear. In Washington, ordinary people are routinely harassed, assaulted, and robbed. Everyone knows why this disparity exists and how to solve it, but political correctness has made the truth unspeakable.
To succeed, Trump must ignore the inevitable accusations of racism and authoritarianism and focus on results.
Ideally, crime declines when a virtuous population maintains strong cultural norms and self-control. When virtue isn’t enough, the state must deliver swift and certain justice. If laws go unenforced, honest people quickly learn they are fools for obeying them, while marginal characters drift toward crime. Arrests must be followed by real penalties. As Rudy Giuliani proved in New York with broken-windows policing, consistent enforcement of even minor laws dismantles a culture of permissibility and encourages respect for the rules.
If we know regular enforcement and strong penalties work, why do Democrats choose the opposite in the cities they run?
Their answer always returns to racism. Crime data shows black Americans commit a disproportionate share of crime. Enforcing the law honestly will result in more black arrests and incarcerations. Neither Democrats nor most Republicans will discuss this fact or ask the black community to confront it. Instead, they declare the system racist by design.
Once the system is branded racist, “criminal justice reform” becomes the only solution. Because the underlying causes go unaddressed, disparities persist. To make the system look less racist, enforcement is scaled back. Heather Mac Donald calls this the “Ferguson effect”: Police who fear becoming national pariahs simply stop policing black neighborhoods. Law enforcement retreats from the areas where crime is highest. Officers are told to overlook minor crimes to lower minority arrest rates. Prosecutors cut deals, and early release programs proliferate to improve incarceration statistics. This is exactly the formula for more crime and less safety.
As a former crime reporter, I’ve had candid conversations with officers about this. Police know where most crime happens and who commits it, but politics make addressing it a nightmare. Officers say they sometimes ignore domestic violence or burglary calls in certain neighborhoods. They want to go home to their families, not become nationally infamous for answering the “wrong” call. The number of incarcerated black Americans may fall, but deaths from traffic accidents to homicides rise. Policies enacted “for” the black community make life more dangerous for them — and for everyone else.
RELATED: DC’s crime problem is much worse than you think

When asked about the chain of command under Trump’s initiative, D.C. Police Chief Pamela Smith, a black woman, replied, “What does that mean?” Not reassuring. It suggests that in many cities, police chiefs are chosen less for competence than for their DEI value to activists. If the officials charged with maintaining public order under the dictates of gay race communism cannot grasp basic law enforcement concepts, they will fail.
Trump has taken on a complicated challenge. Restoring order may be straightforward in theory, but the politics are treacherous. To succeed, he must ignore the inevitable accusations of racism and authoritarianism and focus on results. In an era when most politicians flee responsibility, Trump is embracing it. If he succeeds, he will restore safety and dignity to the capital and create a model that could shame other cities into action.
Some compare Trump’s move to Nayib Bukele’s crackdown in El Salvador. The most important lesson from that comparison is that success speaks for itself. If Trump’s takeover produces a radically safer capital, Americans will demand the same in their own cities.
There’s a world before President Trump’s descent down the escalator, and there’s a world after it. The recent No Kings protests transmitted the idée fixe of the pre-2015 world. That idea was hostility to personal authority, or personal power — hostility to the notion of sovereignty, to the power once exercised by kings. Donald Trump, the figure who has dominated politics since 2015, is its most visible sign of contradiction. In that sense, the protesters weren’t entirely wrong. Trump’s success marks the passing of the world of the latter half of the 20th century, which was defined by hatred of personal authority.
Successive generations demolished the concept of sovereignty, casting suspicion on the notion that a leader’s decisions can legitimately reshape political or social life. This shift began in the United States when the intelligentsia promulgated the concept of “the authoritarian personality.” They found this personality in the working classes, their churches and associations, their families and fathers, and the politicians who represented them. Where there was the whiff of authoritarian character traits, fascism probably lurked.
All the elements of Trump’s personality that his opponents loathe have proved, for better or worse, to be demonstrations of strength rather than weakness.
The anti-authority impulse then extended to challenge the authority of elected bodies. Popular sovereignty became dangerous. In the late 1950s and '60s, on matters such as school prayer, unctuous judges and administrators tied the hands of potentially reactionary legislatures and frog-marched them toward secularism.
In the 1970s, the target was popular sovereignty as embodied in the office of the president. The American Constitution enabled an energetic executive or administrative presidency, traces of the monarchical form. But the president’s authority was decapitated in the great act of regicide — otherwise known as Watergate.
Sketching the gloomy landscape of the 1970s, the sociologist Robert Nisbet saw in the twilight of authority the rise of impersonal forces; administrators touting “best practices” stepped into the breach. Therapists, managers, and other experts became increasingly important. They coordinated with economic, social, and legal networks to constrain human agents who might otherwise upset progress.
That’s what globalization was all about. At the peak of the era of what Thomas Friedman called “the golden straitjacket,” sovereignty was outré. Successful politicians such as Bill Clinton and Tony Blair dazzled their electorates with the bullion of cheap credit and narratives of an impending gilded age while tightening the bonds ever further. They weakened the power of their offices, distributing it to central banks and international agencies.
Their actions clarified the vocation of right-thinking people. Stigmatize the authoritarian personality. Banish any individual or group that displayed its signs from the helm of government and public life. Spin an ever-tighter web of legal, administrative, and economic networks that could remove the risks of exercising personal human control over government — the risks of an energetic executive — once and for all.
All that changed with Trump’s descent down the escalator. “The golden straitjacket” had numerous critics, but no major public figure exposed its hatred of political, personal power as aggressively and abruptly as Trump did. In 2015, he thrust personal authority back to the center of public life. It’s been there ever since, an example to imitate — in enthusiasm or envy.
As president, Trump has fought hard to restore the bloodied Article II of the Constitution. His executive and legal actions on behalf of presidential power even won over skeptics in the conservative legal world. Not only did he challenge the presuppositions of government via the administrative state, but he also exposed the overreaching deep state that is devouring the American Constitution.
Indeed, No Kings could very well function as a pro-Trump slogan. Prior to Trump, American presidents largely functioned as kings. Like the monarch in Great Britain, U.S. presidents had long held power in theory as the “dignified” branch, while other actors in the security state made the real decisions — the “efficient” branch. Trump has been his most republican when he has upset this double government.
RELATED: The hidden motive behind the anti-Trump ‘No Kings’ protests

To be sure, anti-Trump No Kings protesters are more troubled by another phenomenon: Trump’s personal style of leadership. They’re not wrong to draw attention to it, but they’re wrong about its significance.
Authority depends on a person’s capacity to command in order to reshape politics. Trump mastered the new fragmented media environment, in which entertainment — rather than solemn statements — wins attention and deference. Trump made his personality an issue. His critics attacked him for it, claiming his persona was a manifestation of the dreaded authoritarian personality. But all the elements of Trump’s personality that his opponents loathe — rhetorical and physical aggression, incivility, scorn for discourse and discussion, brashness, maleness, unwillingness to apologize or express guilt, bluntly demarcating between American winners and losers, claiming the exceptional power to fix America’s problems — have proved, for better or worse, to be demonstrations of strength rather than weakness.
The importance of character traits such as “caring for people like me” or “experience,” which had mattered so much in late 20th-century mass democracy, faded away. Swaths of the electorate would of course still look for their “therapist in chief” or “expert in chief.” But more wanted a boss who asserted control and expected those under him to follow his lead.
The reassertion of personal authority, after decades of opposition to it, has been a messy affair. It’s risible to think that Trump ever intended to abolish elections, set up a dictatorship, or establish a hereditary monarchy. But his style did help accelerate the collapse of institutional authority, such as that once held by the media. Although many of his more dramatic promises have been unrealized (stymied by a variety of forces), the symbology of authority has remained key for gaining and wielding legitimacy.
A numinous connection has developed between an electorate that confers sovereignty upon its chosen figure and the figure who exercises it. The acoustic and visual symbols this connection generates are all the more potent because, at this point in the 21st century, as Mary Harrington has argued, a culture of mass literacy has vanished. This culture was essential to transmit the symbols associated with the print ideals of liberalism (for instance, the importance placed on the freedom of the press, or on discourse itself). As print culture goes, so go the symbols of liberalism. Other symbols step into their place.
Trump’s more subtle critics, who are troubled by the twilight of liberalism, noticed this transformation. They sense something has changed and single out Trump as the chief villain. But wielding the symbols of personal authority is one area in which Trump has long ceased to be exceptional. Even those who are very far from Trump ideologically and politically still inhabit his symbolic universe, in which personal authority, hierarchy, and one’s capacity to reshape political life are of critical importance.
RELATED: Trump gave Americans what they didn’t know they needed

Emmanuel Macron’s predecessors, fearing being labeled authoritarians by the May ’68 generation, adopted a deliberately understated, egalitarian style. Macron shocked the French political system by embracing the persona of “Jupiter.” He seized the opportunity that Trump’s descent down the escalator made possible.
Pope Francis began his papacy in a conversational, freewheeling style, akin to a Clintonian or Blairite doing one’s best to manage the media narrative. But after the first few years, he also imitated Trump as his supporters embraced the theology of an imperial papacy.
Joe Biden likewise leaned into a “Dark Brandon” iconography of authority to create the impression that he was in charge, the simulacrum of a functioning presidency.
Politicians who can’t successfully embody the symbolism of authority, such as Biden, or those who shy away from it, such as Justin Trudeau, end up as failures. Trudeau launched his political career by an act of physical prowess, beating up a Conservative Party senator who was too lazy to train for a boxing match. It was a crude but effective way of legitimating Trudeau’s claim to lead the Liberal Party and Canada.
Even in an extremely progressive country, primal assertions of authority win admiration. But Trudeau forgot the underlying lesson. In office, he preferred the symbolism of colorful socks, and his unpopularity forced him to resign in ignominy. Meanwhile, Trudeau’s successor, who invokes the physical, masculine iconography of hockey fights to win votes, has returned to more visceral politics. The liberal norms of national civility go nowhere; it’s the brash Trumpian traits that are deployed to gain victory.
The resurgence of authority is why there’s no chance of reverting to globalized, impersonal power — at least how the pre-2015 world conceived it. As candidates compete for personal authority, those vying for power repudiate the notion that economic, social, and legal networks should constrain human agents. The capacity to take back control over these networks is what matters. This helps us understand the deeper unity behind Trump’s signature policies.
All the major themes that Trump hit on when he descended the escalator — an end to mass immigration, free trade, and regime-change missions abroad — were on one level anti-globalization topics: They slashed away at the golden straitjacket.
Anti-globalization themes are now so mainstream that even Keir Starmer imitates Trump’s symbology by talking tough on border control. On one level, it’s a policy victory. But the success is more profound than that. To effect that agenda demands the reassertion of the personal, political will to effect social and political change. Faced with the diminishing returns of the old regime, that’s what more and more people are looking for.
In our new world, leaders rise and fall by how well they can speak the language of authority. Whatever the full implications of this paradigm shift may be, the longing for sovereigns shows no signs of letting up.
Editor’s note: A version of this article appeared originally as “A New Birth of Authority” at the American Mind.
Mark Zuckerberg appeared on “The Joe Rogan Experience” in January sporting a new hairstyle and a gold chain — an image makeover that began with the billionaire tech mogul sparring with MMA fighters in 2023. He cast himself as a reformed free-speech champion, admitting that under the Biden administration, Meta’s fact-checking regime had become “something out of '1984.'” Something, he said, needed to change.
What he didn’t say: Meta’s censorship playbook has long resembled the Orwellian dystopia he now claims to oppose.
‘Meta lied about what they were doing with the Chinese Communist Party to employees, shareholders, Congress, and the American public.’
Under Zuckerberg’s leadership, Meta has operated with "1984"-style control — censoring content, shaping political narratives, and cozying up to authoritarian regimes, all while pretending to remain neutral. While Zuckerberg criticizes China’s digital authoritarianism, Meta has adopted similar strategies here in the United States: censoring dissent, interfering in elections, and silencing political opponents.
Zuckerberg’s hypocrisy is increasingly obvious. His ties to China and Meta’s repeated attempts to curry favor with the Chinese Communist Party expose a willingness to bend democratic principles in the name of profit. Meta mimics China’s censorship — globally and domestically — even as it publicly condemns the CCP’s control over information.
For years, Meta attacked China’s censorship and human rights abuses. But as China-based tech companies gained ground, Zuckerberg’s rhetoric escalated. He warned about Chinese AI firms like DeepSeek, which were producing superior tools at lower costs. In response, Meta’s Chief Global Affairs Officer Joel Kaplan assured Americans that the company would build AI based on “our shared values, not China’s.”
Zuckerberg even declared he’d partner with President Trump to resist foreign censorship and defend American tech. But that posturing collapses under scrutiny.
Behind the scenes, Zuckerberg worked hard to ingratiate himself with the Chinese regime. As Steve Sherman reported at RealClearPolicy, Meta pursued “Project Aldrin,” a version of Facebook built to comply with Chinese law. Meta even considered bending its privacy policies to give Beijing access to Hong Kong user data. To ingratiate himself with the CCP, Zuckerberg displayed Xi Jinping’s book on his desk and asked Xi to name his unborn daughter — an offer Xi wisely declined.
These overtures weren’t just about market share. Meta developed a censorship apparatus tailored to China’s demands, including tools to detect and delete politically sensitive content. The company even launched social apps through shell companies in China, and when Chinese regulators pressured Meta to silence dissidents like Guo Wengui, Meta complied.
On April 14, an ex-Facebook employee told the Senate Judiciary Subcommittee on Crime and Counterterrorism that Meta executives “lied about what they were doing with the Chinese Communist Party to employees, shareholders, Congress, and the American public.”
After the Trump administration moved to block Chinese tech influence, Meta backed off its China ambitions. But the company didn’t abandon censorship — it just brought it home.
In the United States, Meta began meddling directly in domestic politics. One of the most glaring examples was the two-year ban on President Donald Trump from Facebook and Instagram. Framed as a measure against incitement, the decision reeked of political bias. It showed how much power Zuckerberg wields over American discourse.
Then came the 2020 election. Meta, under pressure from the Biden administration, suppressed the Hunter Biden laptop story — a move Zuckerberg himself later admitted. Though the story was legitimate, Facebook and Twitter labeled it “misinformation” and throttled its reach. Critics saw this as an obvious attempt to shield Biden from scrutiny weeks before Election Day.
Meta’s interference didn’t stop at content moderation. It also funded election infrastructure. Zuckerberg donated $350 million to the Center for Tech and Civic Life and another $50 million to the Center for Election Innovation and Research. These funds were funneled into swing states under the guise of pandemic safety. But critics viewed it as private influence over public elections — a dangerous precedent set by one of the most powerful CEOs in the world.
Meanwhile, Meta executives misled the public about the company’s relationship with China.
Zuckerberg’s deference to China wasn’t a phase — it was part of a long-term strategy. In 2014, he wrote the foreword for a book by Xi Jinping. He practiced Mandarin in public appearances. He endorsed Chinese values in private meetings. This wasn’t diplomacy — it was capitulation.
Meta even designed its platform to comply with CCP censorship. When regulators in China asked the company to block dissidents, it did. When Chinese interests threatened Meta’s business model, Zuckerberg yielded.
So when he criticizes China’s authoritarianism now, it rings hollow.
Meta’s behavior isn’t just a story of corporate hypocrisy. It’s a case study in elite manipulation of information, both at home and abroad. Zuckerberg talks about free speech, but Meta suppresses it. He warns of foreign influence, while Meta builds tools that serve foreign powers. He condemns censorship, then practices it with ruthless efficiency.
Americans shouldn’t buy Zuckerberg’s rebrand. He wants to sound like a First Amendment champion on podcasts while continuing to control what you see online.
Meta’s past and present actions are clear: The company interfered in U.S. elections, silenced political speech, and appeased authoritarian regimes — all while pretending to stand for freedom.
Zuckerberg’s censorship isn’t a glitch. It’s the product. And unless Americans demand accountability, it will become the new normal.
Last week, Secretary of State Marco Rubio announced that the State Department had revoked more than 300 student visas. The move allows the Trump administration to deport noncitizens who participated in pro-Palestinian protests at universities across the country.
Rubio defended the decision when asked about concerns over free speech — specifically, whether protesting or writing about foreign policy issues could justify a visa revocation.
No serious nation should defend the rights of foreign nationals actively working to harm it under the banner of ‘free speech.’
“If you are in this country on a student visa and are a participant in those movements, we have a right to deny your visa,” he said. “We are not going to be importing activists into the United States. They’re here to study. They’re here to go to class. They’re not here to lead activist movements that are disruptive and undermine our universities. I think it’s lunacy to continue to allow that.”
Rubio is right.
Whether someone supports Israel, supports the Palestinian cause, or criticizes both, that debate is beside the point.
No one has a right to a U.S. visa — student or otherwise. If a visa-holder engages in speech or activism that violates the terms of the visa — such as promoting violence, disrupting public order, or engaging in unauthorized political activity — the government has the authority to revoke the visa and deport the individual.
The Trump administration has made this position clear, particularly in cases involving pro-Palestinian protesters who have expressed support for Hamas, which the United States designates as a foreign terrorist organization.
But the issue of foreign student activism extends beyond the Israel-Hamas conflict.
An analysis by the Capital Research Center found that many “pro-Palestinian” groups share ties with broader movements that oppose the United States and the West in general. These groups frequently advocate violence to achieve their goals, including the destruction of the U.S., which they label an imperialist “settler-colonial” state.
Revoking the visas of foreign students who disrupt public order or seek to undermine American society is both legal and necessary. But the issue goes beyond campus protests. With hundreds of thousands of student visa-holders from adversarial nations like China, the threat is not just ideological — it’s also a national security concern.
No serious nation should defend the rights of foreign nationals actively working to harm it under the banner of “free speech.”
The Constitution does not guarantee the right to a U.S. education. Attending an American university is a privilege, not a right.
Understanding the difference between rights and privileges is essential — especially considering the influence universities have on shaping American political discourse. While student visas are intended for academic study, today’s universities increasingly promote ideological activism over traditional education. And that shift is happening at the same time as the number of international students in the U.S. has grown to over 1 million annually.
At Columbia University, more than 55% of students are foreign nationals — an 18% increase between 2017 and 2022. NYU’s student body is 42% international, up 24% over the same period. This trend is just as pronounced at the graduate level. In 2023, international students made up 42% of Princeton University’s graduate program.
As foreign student enrollment rises alongside campus political activism, the Trump administration has the authority and obligation to respond decisively to the growing influence of ideological movements within universities.
In a series of aggressive actions, the administration has withheld hundreds of millions in federal funding from institutions like Columbia University for what it calls “inaction in the face of persistent harassment of Jewish students.” It has also launched investigations into other universities over allegations of race-based segregation and transgender athletic policies. Through executive order, the administration has taken steps to dismantle the U.S. Department of Education — a long-standing goal for many conservatives since the department’s establishment in 1979.
Unsurprisingly, the left has responded with swift opposition, deploying both legal challenges and familiar media outrage.
Several academic groups have filed lawsuits against the Trump administration to stop the deportation of foreign students. Teachers’ unions have sued to block the administration’s move to revoke federal funding from Columbia University, while others have challenged its attempt to shutter the Education Department.
Mainstream media outlets have framed these actions as an “authoritarian power-grab,” accusing the administration of trying to “impose its political will on American universities, which foster curiosity and independent thought.”
Some critics have gone even further, likening Trump’s efforts to confront anti-American activism on college campuses to the Nazi-era program of Gleichschaltung — a system of totalitarian “social control.”
While American universities may be called many things, bastions of “independent thought” are not among them. Claims that Trump is seeking total “social control” are difficult to take seriously, given how heavily university faculty skew left.
A 2023 Harvard Crimson survey found that just 0.4% of Harvard faculty identified as “very conservative,” while 31.8% described themselves as “very liberal.” A broader study of 51 leading liberal arts colleges revealed a 10.4-1 ratio of Democrat to Republican faculty, underscoring a deep ideological imbalance.
This dominance of progressive ideology on campus doesn’t stay confined to the classroom. It flows into national politics, funding Democratic candidates and fueling an activist pipeline that often promotes anti-American narratives.
According to OpenSecrets, Democrats have received more than 70% of all political donations from the education sector in every election cycle since 2002. In 2018, donors from the education industry gave over $64.5 million to Democrats and just $7.8 million to Republicans.
Teachers' unions show an even sharper tilt. In the 2024 cycle, the National Education Association contributed 98.48% of its donations to Democrats and only 0.79% to Republicans. Employees of the U.S. Department of Education gave zero dollars to Republican candidates.
Given the dominance of left-wing ideology on college campuses and the steady stream of campaign donations from the education sector to Democratic politicians, it’s no surprise that Democrats are fiercely defending what functionally operate as their institutions. Trump’s actions threaten not just campus activism but a political pipeline that helps sustain the left’s long-term dominance.
Far from representing an “authoritarian power-grab,” the Trump administration’s efforts mark one of the first serious attempts by the political right to challenge a system that has traded education for progressive indoctrination.
If the country hopes to reclaim its universities — a goal critical to the republic's long-term health — rooting out radical activism and defunding ideological strongholds must continue and accelerate. Republicans cannot afford to hand over the nation’s future to those who openly disdain it.
Think about all the statues the woke mob tore down in recent years with the same fury they now reserve for firebombing Teslas. On the fifth anniversary of COVID-19’s medical, legal, and ethical failures, I have a few ideas for heroes worthy of new monuments.
Idaho alone deserves at least two. In September 2020, police arrested Gabe Rench for peacefully singing hymns at a public protest against the city of Moscow’s strict mask mandate. A court later ruled in his favor. Then, in April 2020, officers handcuffed Sara Brady in front of her children for letting them play outside at a park in defiance of a stay-at-home order. She, too, was ultimately cleared of any wrongdoing.
We should build statues and monuments to remind future generations of how science and dignity were cast aside for cultish hysteria and blind fear.
It took until 2023 for justice to prevail in both cases, delayed by a swarm of overzealous Karens and Keystone cops who failed to learn from history’s authoritarian follies. Instead, they seemed eager to replicate them.
They deserve statues too — depicted in their masks, rigidly marching six feet apart, blindly enforcing fraudulent “safety” measures. They can stand near Rench and Brady, a permanent reminder of the goose-stepping hysteria that defined the era.
The statues should defy logic, evoking disbelief and confusion. Children will gaze at them, instinctively pitying the absurdity and disgrace of the era they represent.
“How did they let it come to this?” they will ask. And wiser adults of a future age will answer, “Because they were morons, child. Utter morons.”
Todd Erzen, my book editor, envisions a mural in downtown Des Moines capturing his experience in April 2021. That day, he took his young daughter to a small restaurant to pick up a pizza. Inside, diners sat freely eating and chatting without masks. But when Erzen walked in for two minutes to grab his order, the Stasi guard working the cash register insisted that he wear a mask.
When Erzen pointed out the absurdity — customers raw-dogging the air all around him for an entire meal were somehow "safe," yet his brief presence required a hazmat-level response — the restaurant workers refused to give him the pizza. Then they called the cops.
Erzen hopes the mural will provoke a question from future generations: If someone truly feared infection, why would they prolong an argument with a supposed biohazard instead of simply handing him his pizza and ending the interaction as quickly as possible?
The mural would be called “Trust the experts!”
Not so fast, proclaims the New York Times. This week, the paper ran an op-ed with a breathtaking lack of self-awareness, headlined “We Were Badly Misled About the Event That Changed Our Lives.” What in the name of Wuhan is that nonsense? Misled by whom? Where was that level of skepticism when Joe Biden declared COVID-19 a “pandemic of the unvaccinated”? Where was it when Sweden stayed open and defied predictions of mass death and disaster? Or when ivermectin — a Nobel Prize-winning treatment — was suddenly banned overnight, nearly costing my friend Bill Salier his life?
Yes, we should build statues and monuments to remind future generations of how science and dignity were cast aside for cultish hysteria and blind fear. Let them see a grand sculpture of Salier, measuring out “horse medicine” in a desperate bid to save himself, while a smug pharmacist and the likes of Terry Bradshaw mocked him.
Our monuments to the scamdemic should be as absurd as the reality they reflect — a cause for both mockery and lamentation. They should remind us of a similarly stiff-necked people who once worshipped a golden calf instead of the one true God and thus help us vow to do a much better job teaching future generations to smash their idols instead of allowing them to be brought to us by Pfizer.
Political theorist and sociologist Vilfredo Pareto identified two main personality types among ruling elites: foxes and lions. Foxes govern through manipulation and innovation, while lions rely on tradition and force. In a healthy civilization, power circulates between these two types, allowing a balance that meets the needs of society at any given time.
For decades, Western nations have been dominated by foxes, who favor manipulation over force. However, as populist movements began challenging their grip on power, the ruling class attempted to pivot to hard power. The American left responded with riots, imprisonment of political opponents, and even an assassination attempt on the populist presidential candidate. Yet these efforts failed, and Donald Trump won office with a decisive mandate.
Now that the attempt to transition to brute force has failed, the left is in disarray.
Now, after their failed shift toward coercion, progressives find themselves disoriented and divided. Their system of information control has been disrupted, and their attempts at brute force have backfired, leaving them uncertain about their next move.
In “The Mind and Society,” Pareto explained that every civilization has a ruling class, which can generally be divided into two groups. The first, type one residues or foxes, manipulates information and adapts quickly to shifting social dynamics. The second, type two residues or lions, is patriotic, courageous, and committed to preserving identity and tradition. Lions excel in physical defense and thrive in times when societies must carve out territory, settle new lands, or defend borders from external threats.
Lions typically rule through hierarchical structures and strategic applications of force, maintaining stability through a sense of duty and order. In contrast, foxes rely on deception and social engineering to achieve their ends. When either group dominates for too long without the other’s influence, societies risk stagnation, corruption, or collapse.
Foxes are intelligent and adaptable, skilled at manipulating ideas and combining concepts. They are not bound by tradition, which allows them to envision and implement radical changes. As societies grow more complex, they often turn to foxes, as the challenges faced by elites in advanced civilizations require abstract thinking and innovation. Foxes typically rule through soft power, using information control and bureaucratic systems to shape society.
Pareto argued that functional societies must maintain a balance between these two elite types. When a country overwhelmingly favors one over the other, it eventually declines. For decades, Western nations have prioritized foxes while marginalizing lions in elite institutions. Patriotic, strong, and tradition-oriented individuals have been pushed aside, while cunning and manipulative figures have been elevated.
This imbalance has led to an elite class that excludes many of its most capable potential leaders while embracing mediocrity or even corruption — simply because those in power share a similar mindset.
Foxes rule through manipulation and soft power, relying on information control and propaganda. Their preferred tactics involve getting political opponents fired, freezing their bank accounts, or using public shaming rather than resorting to direct force. News media, entertainment, and academia serve as their primary tools, while public humiliation remains their most effective weapon.
By carefully adjusting algorithmic information delivery and forging partnerships between corporations and intelligence agencies, fox-style elites can censor dissent without technically violating civil rights protected by Western constitutions.
Soft power allows elites to establish totalitarian practices without provoking the direct resistance that comes with brute force. But it depends on the credibility and prestige of the institutions enforcing it. People comply with these institutions because defying them can mean social and professional ruin — losing jobs, friendships, and status in polite society. To maintain control, foxes rely on institutions that command respect and influence.
These institutions can manipulate narratives and even push absurd claims occasionally, but overreach threatens their credibility. This became most evident during the pandemic lockdowns, when scientific, medical, and government authorities were caught lying so frequently that much of the public stopped trusting them. At a certain point, the cost of compliance with these institutions' demands outweighed the social penalties of defiance. Faced with growing dissent, the foxes began to panic.
As their grip on power weakened, the foxes turned to new tactics to reassert control. First came the violence of Black Lives Matter and Antifa, groups that effectively served as the Democratic Party’s paramilitary arms. This mob violence, cloaked in plausible deniability, aimed to intimidate those who had abandoned institutional authority back into compliance. Once the election was secured, Democrats shifted to more overt hard-power tactics, deploying the FBI to monitor church services and intimidate parents at school board meetings. Fearful of losing control, the fox-style elite attempted to rule like lions.
Nowhere was this desperation more evident than in the left’s relentless attempts to stop Donald Trump. The real estate tycoon provoked such an unhinged response that progressives sought to bankrupt him, remove him from the ballot, imprison him, and even assassinate him. These blatant displays of force resembled tactics used by third-world dictators. But a wounded animal is the most dangerous, and the foxes were willing to do anything to hold on to power.
Despite their efforts, both soft-power censorship and hard-power crackdowns failed. Trump secured a resounding mandate in both the popular vote and the Electoral College. At that point, Democrats faced a stark choice: embrace full-scale authoritarian repression or allow the duly elected Republican to take office. Their manipulation of information had collapsed. Their attempts to jail or kill Trump had backfired.
In the end, foxes lack both the skill and the resolve for violence. They are neither suited for nor adept at wielding force, and their sudden shift toward hard-power tactics only underscores their desperation. Now that the attempt to transition to brute force has failed, the left is in disarray. The American people rejected both manipulation and coercion — so what options remain?
For now, progressives seem trapped in a state of confusion, waging an internal battle between radical activists pushing for even more extreme measures and an establishment scrambling to rein in the movement they unleashed. Their failure to shift from soft power to hard power has left them demoralized. Let’s hope it stays that way.