The culture war isn’t a distraction — it’s the main front



Every June for the past decade, Americans have endured the same tedious ritual. Corporations, nonprofits, and federal agencies blanketed the country in rainbow iconography to mark the beginning of Pride Month. Logos were recolored. HR departments rolled out slide decks on inclusion. Public spaces were repurposed into temples of the new state religion.

But this year feels different. Pride Month opened with a whimper. Some of the most vocal corporate evangelists dropped the celebration entirely. The cause? Conservatives finally decided to fight. Culture war became something more than a talking point — and suddenly, a chorus of “respectable” voices began warning about the dangers of winning.

The base has learned that victory is possible. Cultural power can be challenged. Political power can be used. The enemy can be made to retreat.

It’s our duty to ignore them.

The warning signs were obvious decades ago. In 1992, Pat Buchanan told the Republican National Convention that a culture war had already begun. If the right failed to take it seriously, he said, it would lose everything else. The GOP didn’t listen. Instead, the party obsessed over tax cuts and nation-building in the Middle East. The Moral Majority of the 1970s and ’80s was treated as a joke — something dated, embarrassing, and politically toxic. Better to focus on free markets and gun rights.

The culture war, we were told, belonged to church ladies and washed-up televangelists. The future of conservatism lay in fusing neocon economics with a libertarian live-and-let-live approach to social issues.

Pride filled the void

Nature abhors a vacuum. Turns out that if you withdraw all Christian influence from the public square, something else takes its place.

Republicans abandoned the culture war. Progressives never stopped fighting it. With almost no resistance, activist groups captured corporations, school boards, and even the military. Their “American Ramadan” took hold of the civic calendar. At first, they had to push. Over time, they no longer needed to. They’d filled these institutions with graduates trained in the new religion. Pride became doctrine.

Then they pushed too far.

The backlash didn’t start with GOP leadership or conservative media figures. Most of them ran for cover, as usual. It started with parents. LGBTQ+ activists had always targeted children, but usually with plausible deniability. Once transgender ideology reached the classroom and children began mutilating their bodies, the pretense collapsed.

Fathers watched daughters suffer concussions in girls’ sports. Mothers feared losing sons to state-mandated transitions. This wasn’t about marginal tax rates any more. This was a fight for their children’s bodies and souls — exactly the battle Buchanan predicted.

RELATED: Let’s build a statue honoring Pat Buchanan

Blaze Media Illustration

Fighting the culture war worked

Eventually, even Republican politicians took notice. Boycotts emerged. Protests followed. For the first time in decades, conservative action had teeth. Corporate boardrooms and school boards felt the pressure.

Some politicians, like Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis, broke from the usual GOP pattern of complaint without consequence. He used political power to defend voters — passing laws, signing executive orders, reshaping public institutions. Conservative pundits and establishment media scolded him for violating “small government principles.” Voters, however, rewarded him. Other governors followed.

Pride Month 2025 looked nothing like the version Americans had come to expect. Under the Trump administration, federal agencies and the military no longer served as public relations arms for the gender revolution. Major corporations — Target, Starbucks, Disney — sat out the ritual queering of their logos. Not every company pulled back. But the most aggressive push came from professional sports leagues, especially Major League Baseball. Ironically, the industries most reliant on red-state consumers seemed the most desperate to humiliate them.

Still, the contrast was undeniable. Conservatives, for once, applied sustained pressure — and it worked.

Much work to be done

No victory stays secure without follow-through.

Progressive ideology still saturates the commanding heights of American culture. The bureaucracy, the universities, the legal system — all remain firmly in enemy hands. Populist uprisings, however welcome, tend to burn hot and fast. They need structure to last. The moment belongs to the right, but momentum means little without organization.

Buchanan’s most famous lines weren’t just about warning — they were about action.

Greater love than this hath no man than that he lay down his life for his friend. Here were 19-year-old boys ready to lay down their lives to stop a mob from molesting old people they did not even know. And as those boys took back the streets of Los Angeles, block by block, my friends, we must take back our cities, and take back our culture, and take back our country.

That vision threatens the GOP establishment more than any left-wing pressure campaign. Republican elites never liked Trump, and they certainly never liked what he unleashed. Populism made demands. It refused to obey. It reminded the base that political power should be used — not just harvested.

The saboteurs wasted no time. They labeled anyone who fights the culture war with actual authority “the woke right.” The term signals their intent: Neutralize real opposition by redefining it as leftist. Restore the old consensus. Return to safe topics and stale slogans.

But the old consensus is dying.

The base has learned that victory is possible. Cultural power can be challenged. Political power can be used. The enemy can be made to retreat.

Of course, this fight won’t end quickly. No amount of virtue-signaling from corporations can erase the damage already done. Children still face ideological capture. Bureaucrats still push gender ideology behind closed doors. Activists still hold positions of influence across major institutions.

But the wall has cracked.

This moment demands more than nostalgia or outrage. It demands strategy. It demands organization. And above all, it demands courage.

The right doesn’t need to beg for permission or apologize for fighting. It needs to press the advantage. Those who warned that the culture war would cost too much should reckon with how much surrender has already cost us.

We’ve seen what works. Now we need to keep doing it — block by block.

Let’s build a statue honoring Pat Buchanan



The life of an unheeded prophet rarely ends in comfort and often courts danger. Pat Buchanan endured both with the resolve of a warrior. As the most prominent paleoconservative in American politics, Buchanan stood so far ahead of his time that today’s MAGA agenda looks like a photocopy of his 1992 presidential campaign platform. From the culture war to working-class economics and immigration, Buchanan served as the American Cassandra — right about nearly every major question yet scorned by Republican elites.

Republican pundits and politicians dismissed him as a bigot, a racist, an anti-Semite — even likening him to a Nazi. Many of the loudest voices came from within his own party. But Buchanan never bent. He held the line. Decades later, nearly all his predictions have come true. He kept the torch of paleoconservatism burning when no one else would — and that torch lit the fire of the MAGA movement.

Buchanan took on the thankless task of warning his party and his country about the real dangers ahead, long before anyone in power was ready to listen.

Born in 1938 in Washington, D.C., Buchanan rose to prominence as a newspaper columnist and editor before joining President Richard Nixon’s White House as a speechwriter and political strategist. He later became a fixture on TV with shows like “Crossfire” and “The McLaughlin Group” and did a second tour at the White House as Ronald Reagan’s communications director from 1985 to 1987.

Buchanan could have coasted on that résumé. He didn’t. Instead, he broke with the GOP’s managerial, globalist consensus and challenged it head-on. In 1992, he ran against George H.W. Bush in the Republican primary, furious over the president’s betrayal of his “no new taxes” pledge. But Buchanan’s campaign wasn’t just about tax policy. He warned against endless foreign wars, the abandonment of Christianity, the hollowing out of American industry, and the long-term consequences of mass migration.

In his famous “culture war” speech at the 1992 Republican National Convention, Buchanan didn’t just warn Republicans. He challenged the entire direction of the American ruling class.

“My friends, this election is about more than who gets what. It is about who we are,” he said. “It is about what we believe and what we stand for as Americans. There is a religious war going on in this country. It is a cultural war, as critical to the kind of nation we shall be as was the Cold War itself, for this war is for the soul of America.”

After two more failed presidential bids, Buchanan returned to writing and commentary. He published several influential books, including “The Death of the West” and “Suicide of a Superpower,” launched the American Conservative, and penned columns for VDARE. At every turn, he tackled controversial topics — foreign intervention, demographic transformation, and the destruction of the American middle class. While neoconservatives dominated Republican politics, Buchanan stood firm, laying the groundwork for the civil war now raging inside the GOP.

Most voters aren’t driven by ideology. They want a politics that serves their families, communities, and country. Conservatism shouldn’t revolve around abstractions but should exist to preserve a way of life. Despite the “conservative” label, Republican leadership made clear it cared only about cutting taxes and waging endless wars.

Then came Donald Trump, who bulldozed the GOP establishment by campaigning to secure the border, protect American workers, and end the forever wars. Trump won on Buchanan’s platform.

As Millennial and Gen Z conservatives came of age under Trump, many sought intellectual roots for the movement. They found them in the paleoconservatives: Paul Gottfried, Samuel Francis, and, most of all, Pat Buchanan. Clips of Buchanan’s speeches and passages from his books now go viral across social media, revealing a man who diagnosed America’s decline with uncanny foresight. He has become, retroactively, the elder statesman of the New Right — an inspiration to a generation of conservatives eager to challenge the party line and reclaim their country.

Buchanan’s return to prominence hasn’t gone unnoticed by establishment conservatives or the legacy press. Neoconservatives have taken to calling Trump supporters the “Buchanan right” — a clumsy insult aimed at discrediting the movement by association. The Atlantic recently ran a hit piece titled “The Godfather of the Woke Right,” recycling the slur peddled by James Lindsay. The article begrudgingly acknowledged “Suicide of a Superpower” as a formative text for the MAGA right but framed this influence as toxic — an engine of xenophobia and racism.

In a time when the GOP sold out to neoconservative globalism, Buchanan held the line. He took on the thankless task of warning his party and his country about the real dangers ahead — mass migration, national decline, foreign entanglements — long before anyone in power was ready to listen. For his efforts, he was ridiculed, condemned, and cast aside.

That must never happen again. We won’t let it happen again. The term “Buchanan right” shouldn’t be a smear — it should be a badge of honor.

While the left tears down statues of America’s founders, the right should start building. We must erect monuments to the men who stood firm when it mattered most. The first should be Pat Buchanan. We can no longer elect him president — but we can honor him now, while he’s still here to see it. Let’s build the monument he deserves — one that pays tribute to the man who carried the torch through the wilderness and lit the way for the movement that would Make America Great Again.

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