Ireland and the UK’s collapse from Christianity to liberalism could be America’s future — if we don’t wake up



Blaze Media co-founder Glenn Beck is sounding the alarm over what he sees as a cultural road map America could soon follow if conservatives fail to maintain the momentum of the Trump era.

“If we don’t get a Marco Rubio, or whoever is running and is the candidate, in line with what Donald Trump is doing right now — if we don’t get that, we’re going to be back here with a vengeance,” Beck warned.

“We’ll be right behind you,” he tells Peter McIlvenna.

McIlvenna, who grew up in Northern Ireland as well as in the Republic of Ireland in Dublin and Limerick, tells Glenn that he’s right — and that the cities there are “not Irish at all.”


“Ireland is an interesting test case, going from probably the most staunchly Christian Catholic country to now the most liberal country. What happened on the abortion laws was unbelievable. The rush to same-sex marriage so quick,” he explains.

“Part of that was the sex scandals that were in the Catholic Church were then used to destroy any remnant of Christianity within the country. Instead of saying 'this is happening in parts of Church; we need to address it,' the Church was decimated,” he continues.

The hypocrisy, McIlvenna points out, is when you point out that Islam has the same problems — or worse — the response is that it’s “a few bad apples.”

“It was a concerted attack on the Church, destroying the Church’s role as a guiding light for Irish society to now being dismissed and ridiculed and rejected,” he explains.

But it’s not just Ireland. The decline of Christianity and embrace of Islam are happening all over the United Kingdom.

“Islam presents itself as dominant and gives them an identity. And I think that’s the thing we are lacking as a nation. We don’t know our identity,” he says. “We have ripped out Christianity from the nation.”

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The strategy to win elections hasn’t changed in 2,000 years



As we head into a contentious election year, campaign messages will soon flood every screen and mailbox. New technologies keep arriving, but political strategy hasn’t changed much over the past 2,000 years.

Need proof? Go back to 64 B.C., when Marcus Tullius Cicero — the Roman Republic’s great orator — ran for consul, the highest office in Rome and the closest analogue to a modern presidency. Cicero’s brother, Quintus, wrote him a blunt, practical memo on how to win. Princeton University Press published that letter in 2012 in Philip Freeman’s translation, “How to Win an Election: An Ancient Guide for Modern Politicians.” The title isn’t clever. It’s accurate.

Quintus didn’t teach Cicero to preach doctrine. He taught him to assemble a majority.

Quintus urged Cicero to treat every appearance “as if your entire future depended on that single event.” Modern technology only amplifies that warning. A bad phrase or a sour expression, caught on camera and looped endlessly, can sink a campaign.

Quintus also mapped the coalition a successful candidate must build. He told Cicero to focus on the supporters who matter most and to shore up those already on his side: “those holding public contracts,” along with “the business community.” He reminded him not to neglect “the special interest groups that back you.” He added a familiar note of retail politics: use “the young people who admire you and want to learn from you,” and rely on “the faithful friends who are daily at your side.”

Government contractors. Business leaders. Interest groups. Youth outreach. A loyal inner circle. Quintus could charge today’s consulting rates and still find clients.

He also gave Cicero the oldest instruction in politics: collect what you’re owed.

“Now is the time to call in all favors,” Quintus wrote. “Don’t miss an opportunity to remind everyone in your debt that they should repay you with their support. For those who owe you nothing, let them know that their timely help will put you in their debt.”

Anyone who has worked in politics has heard the modern version of that message, usually delivered with a smile and a firm handshake.

Quintus emphasized the need to win over the “nobility” and “men of privilege,” including former consuls. Swap “nobility” for major donors and influential business leaders — Elon Musk and Mark Zuckerberg come to mind — and swap “consuls” for ex-governors, former senators, and party grandees. Candidates still chase endorsements from yesterday’s power brokers.

RELATED: Do you want Caesar? Because this is how you get Caesar.

Blaze News Illustration

Quintus also told Cicero to exploit his opponents’ scandals. He described the corruption and sexual misconduct surrounding Cicero’s rivals, Antonius and Catiline, and urged Cicero to use it. Modern history offers obvious parallels. Gary “Monkey Business” Hart. John Edwards and his “love child” saga. Sex scandals keep happening, and campaigns keep weaponizing them.

Quintus warned Cicero about enemies and mistakes. “Since you have so many potential enemies,” he wrote, “you can’t afford to make any mistakes. You must conduct a flawless campaign with the greatest thoughtfulness, industry, and care.” Political hatreds didn’t start with cable news. Cicero faced what today might be called “Cicero derangement syndrome.”

Quintus broke campaigning into two tasks: hold your friends and persuade the public. He offered instructions for both. When it came to organizations Cicero had helped, Quintus told him to press them: “This is the occasion to pay their political debts to you if they want you to look favorably on them in the future.” He boiled down vote-getting to three levers that still move elections: “favors, hope, and personal attachment.”

Then he reached what he called the most important part of campaigning: create goodwill and kindle hope.

“Bring hope to people and a feeling of goodwill toward you,” Quintus urged. But he warned Cicero not to lock himself into specific promises. He told him to reassure each constituency in language it wanted to hear: Tell the Senate you will protect its “power and privileges.” Tell the business community and wealthy citizens you stand for “stability and peace.” Tell ordinary Romans you have always defended their interests.

Quintus didn’t teach Cicero to preach doctrine. He taught him to assemble a majority.

Cicero won, and he won big — more votes than any other candidate. Romans later called him “Father of His Country,” a title Americans associate with George Washington. Quintus became praetor two years later. Both men met violent ends in 43 B.C., as civil war consumed the republic and paved the way for empire.

Their deaths don’t diminish the point. Quintus’ advice endured because it describes permanent truths about politics: ambition, coalition-building, vanity, fear, flattery, and the eternal hunt for advantage.

Tactics and terrain may change, but the playbook didn’t. One wonders — who in our day will leave such a legacy?

A nation without trust is a nation on borrowed time



Something drastic is happening in American life. Headlines that should leave us stunned barely register anymore. Stories that once would have united the country instead dissolve into silence or shrugs.

It is not apathy exactly. It is something deeper — a growing belief that the people in charge either cannot or will not fix what is broken.

When people feel ignored or betrayed, they will align with anyone who appears willing to fight on their behalf.

I call this response the Bubba effect. It describes what happens when institutions lose so much public trust that “Bubba,” the average American minding his own business, finally throws his hands up and says, “Fine. I will handle it myself.” Not because he wants to, but because the system that was supposed to protect him now feels indifferent, corrupt, or openly hostile.

The Bubba effect is not a political movement. It is a survival instinct.

What triggers the Bubba effect

We are watching the triggers unfold in real time. When members of Congress publicly encourage active duty troops to disregard orders from the commander in chief, that is not a political squabble. When a federal judge quietly rewrites the rules so one branch of government can secretly surveil another, that is not normal. That is how republics fall. Yet these stories glided across the news cycle without urgency, without consequence, without explanation.

When the American people see the leadership class shrug, they conclude — correctly — that no one is steering the ship.

This is how the Bubba effect spreads. It is not just individuals resisting authority. It is sheriffs refusing to enforce new policies, school boards ignoring state mandates, entire communities saying, “We do not believe you anymore.” It becomes institutional, cultural, national.

A country cracking from the inside

This effect can be seen in Dearborn, Michigan. In the rise of fringe voices like Nick Fuentes. In the Epstein scandal, where powerful people could not seem to locate a single accountable adult. These stories are different in content but identical in message: The system protects itself, not you.

When people feel ignored or betrayed, they will align with anyone who appears willing to fight on their behalf. That does not mean they suddenly agree with everything that person says. It means they feel abandoned by the institutions that were supposed to be trustworthy.

The Bubba effect is what fills that vacuum.

The dangers of a faithless system

A republic cannot survive without credibility. Congress cannot oversee intelligence agencies if it refuses to discipline its own members. The military cannot remain apolitical if its chain of command becomes optional. The judiciary cannot defend the Constitution while inventing loopholes that erase the separation of powers.

History shows that once a nation militarizes politics, normalizes constitutional shortcuts, or allows government agencies to operate without scrutiny, it does not return to equilibrium peacefully. Something will give.

The question is what — and when.

The responsibility now belongs to us

In a healthy country, this is where the media steps in. This is where universities, pastors, journalists, and cultural leaders pause the outrage machine and explain what is at stake. But today, too many see themselves not as guardians of the republic, but of ideology. Their first loyalty is to narrative, not truth.

The founders never trusted the press more than the public. They trusted citizens who understood their rights, lived their responsibilities, and demanded accountability. That is the antidote to the Bubba effect — not rage, but citizenship.

How to respond without breaking ourselves

Do not riot. Do not withdraw. Do not cheer on destruction just because you dislike the target. That is how nations lose themselves. Instead, demand transparency. Call your representatives. Insist on consequences. Refuse to normalize constitutional violations simply because “everyone does it.” If you expect nothing, you will get nothing.

Do not hand your voice to the loudest warrior simply because he is swinging a bat at the establishment. You do not beat corruption by joining a different version of it. You beat it by modeling the country you want to preserve: principled, accountable, rooted in truth.

RELATED: Blue cities reject law, reject order — and reject America

Photo by Karla Ann Cote/NurPhoto via Getty Images

Every republic reaches a moment when historians will later say, “That was the warning.” We are living in ours. But warnings are gifts if they are recognized. Institutions bend. People fail. The Constitution can recover — if enough Americans still know and cherish it.

It does not take a majority. Twenty percent of the country — awake, educated, and courageous — can reset the system. It has happened before. It can happen again.

Wake up. Stand up. Demand integrity — from leaders, from institutions, and from yourself. Because the Bubba effect will not end until Americans reclaim the duty that has always belonged to them: preserving the republic for the next generation.

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We’re not a republic in crisis. We’re an empire in denial.



Forms of government are not laboratory specimens. You cannot line them up like competing scientific theories, test them under controlled conditions, and then apply the “correct” model to every nation on earth.

The United States learned that lesson the hard way in places like Afghanistan. The George W. Bush vision of exporting liberal democracy across the world was delusional because cultures differ and human beings are not blank slates. People must be governed in ways that align with their nature and customs.

If conservatives wish to make the United States a republic again, they must begin by admitting what America has become.

Government forms have limits. They are not universal ideologies that can fit any situation, and when nations ignore those limits, they fail. America keeps expanding beyond what a republic can bear and refuses to admit it, with predictable consequences.

In its classical form, a republic rests on a set of virtuous citizens capable of self-government through shared beliefs, values, and customs. Citizenship is limited and precious. It conveys as many responsibilities as rights. Citizens do not gain the vote simply because they reside inside a border. They earn it through constant engagement with the body politic. They are soldiers, business owners, family men, and stalwart church members. They have shown both a willingness to sacrifice for society and the capacity to contribute meaningfully to it.

The phrase “self-governing” can mislead because it suggests isolated, autonomous individuals. That is not what classical thinkers meant. A republic needs the lightest touch of any governmental form because the community reinforces itself. Citizens hold each other to account.

From Aristotle to Machiavelli to the American founders, the assumption was the same: A republic requires a virtuous people bound by thick ties of identity and shared moral expectations. Formal authority exists, but most of the real enforcement happens through custom and communal pressure, with the civil magistrate stepping in only when necessary. A republic works only when its people possess enough virtue and cohesion to govern themselves.

That is why republics are rare. They have a strict limitation: scale.

Most successful republics in history have been compact city-states with contained populations capable of maintaining identity and virtue. Once a republic expands, it must incorporate people who do not share its customs or worldview. In “The Prince,” Machiavelli warns rulers who wish to expand that they should only conquer nations sharing similar religion, language, and heritage. That common ground allows the conquered population to assimilate.

Ruling peoples with radically different cultures is far more difficult because the subjects cannot easily accept the rule of a leader whose assumptions differ so dramatically from their own.

A country that does not share culture, religion, tradition, or heritage cannot function as a republic because the people lack the common ground necessary for self-rule. The gaps are too wide to be bridged by normal political debate. A stronger form of authority becomes necessary to bind disparate groups together.

This is why kingdoms and empires are far more common throughout history. Most populations do not possess the cohesion or virtue required for republican government and must instead be ruled by a king. Empires are simply multicultural kingdoms, held together by an emperor who forces cooperation among groups that otherwise could not form a single polity.

Even classical empires understood the need to respect the character of their diverse subjects. Wise rulers did not attempt to make every people act the same. They allowed local custom to continue as long as taxes were paid and troops supplied. Local leaders were often retained. Sometimes a local king stayed on his throne but only if he showed deference to the emperor. The multicultural empire required a much stronger hand, though wise emperors used that power sparingly.

This historical reality explains much about the behavior of modern liberal democracies. Many citizens wonder why their leaders insist on importing large numbers of foreigners despite popular opposition. Cheap labor and imported voters are part of the answer, but in the end, it comes down to the pursuit of raw power.

RELATED: Do you want Caesar? Because this is how you get Caesar

Blaze Media Illustration

Large-scale immigration introduces deep cultural differences that destabilize the political order, and the only way to manage that instability is more centralized authority. A liberal democracy that becomes too diverse must govern in the manner of an empire. Its leaders must exercise the level of authority required to hold multiple nations together under one state.

The fact is, multicultural societies trend toward authoritarianism. They must. The differences are too great to manage through ordinary civic persuasion. This dynamic intensifies when the state attempts to integrate its various peoples rather than allowing them to exist separately. By transforming their democracies into multiethnic empires, Western leaders acquire imperial levels of power while maintaining the appearance of popular rule.

No republic can survive the level of diversity now celebrated as a civic virtue.

If conservatives wish to make the United States a republic again, they must begin by admitting what America has become. The country has been transformed into a multicultural empire and is governed accordingly. It grants immense power to its ruling elite in the hope that it can manage the instability produced by extreme diversity.

A republic cannot endure under these conditions. America must end immigration, scale back its foreign ambitions, and cultivate a shared, virtuous culture. Without these steps, talk of republican revival is performative. The structure of a republic cannot survive the substance of an empire.

If Americans will not reclaim the unity that makes self-government possible, then they will be ruled, not represented. Republics are earned. Empires are endured.

Do you want Caesar? Because this is how you get Caesar



Political solutions feel increasingly out of reach in the United States. Congress cannot pass a budget and has offloaded most of its legislative duties to lobbyists and the permanent bureaucracy. The judiciary spends more time blocking lawful presidential action than interpreting law. Executive agencies drag their feet under activist judges and rebellious career staff. Inflation continues to punish households, the health care system teeters, and American workers watch themselves replaced by imported labor.

In moments like these, people look for someone who can simply make the system function again. That is how you get a Caesar.

Caesar does not appear because the existing powers pushed too far, but because they refused to act decisively when action was needed.

Though “dictator” carries a purely negative meaning today, the term originally described a legitimate emergency office in the Roman Republic. Rome elected two consuls who shared executive authority, but when a true crisis struck — invasion, rebellion, famine — Roman law allowed the temporary selection of a dictator who ruled alone for six months. The point was efficiency during existential danger.

Rome famously revered figures like Cincinnatus, elected dictator twice, who relinquished power immediately when the crisis ended. His restraint, not his authority, made him a civic hero. Tradition demanded this behavior; violating it meant disgrace and, often enough, assassination. George Washington consciously modeled his own two-term limit on this Roman example.

The end of the Roman Republic is often associated with Julius Caesar being named dictator for life. The underlying crisis, however, predated him. Rome’s elites consolidated land, squeezed citizens out of ownership, imported a large slave class that drove down wages, and ignored the growing unrest. The Senate refused to act and violence broke out. Does any of this sound familiar?

Caesar marched on Rome, won a civil war, and took power. He reformed the calendar, overhauled the justice system, cut welfare, and enacted land reforms. He was popular with the public but enraged the ruling class by destroying their privileges. His assassination ended his rule, but not the transformation he initiated. The republic was finished.

Spengler’s forecast

In “The Decline of the West,” Oswald Spengler argued that civilizations follow a life-cycle: birth, growth, decline, and death. In the late stage, societies fall under the control of bureaucratic oligarchies powered by money. Rules remain on paper, but decisions always serve wealthy interests. Economic mobility collapses. The public is effectively locked out.

These eras are marked by deep cultural divides. A decadent, urban elite begins to live in ways utterly foreign to the people they rule. Wealth concentrates in cities. Cosmopolitan values take hold. Citizens no longer recognize their own country.

When legislative bodies fail, bureaucracies grow unchallengeable, and moneyed elites block ordinary people from their own society, Spengler argued that a Caesar figure reliably emerges — a leader who sweeps aside gridlock and imposes order. Not necessarily a tyrant in the cartoonish sense, but a figure who commands enough power to break the stalemate.

The danger is obvious: Once such a leader accumulates that power, nothing guarantees he gives it back. Caesar may save the nation, transform it, or accelerate its decline. What is certain is that once he arrives, the political order changes rapidly.

RELATED: Evil unchecked always spreads — and Democrats are proof

Blaze Media Illustration

America’s crossroads

It is hard not to look at today’s United States and see a similar pattern emerging. Donald Trump is not Caesar, but he has been forced to govern through executive orders because Congress refuses to act and the bureaucracy works to undermine him. Activists hold No Kings rallies while Steve Bannon urges Trump to return in 2028. Passionate positions create momentum, and what begins as rhetoric can become a real possibility.

Once an idea becomes a constant point of reference — even in opposition — it gains a form of inevitability. That is the nature of political hyperstition.

If Americans want to avoid a real Caesar, the only solution is to fix the problems that make one appealing. Caesar does not appear because the existing powers pushed too far, but because they refused to act decisively when action was needed.

The borders must close. Replacement labor through expanded visa programs must end. Inflation must be crushed. Foreign adventurism must stop. Policy must shift away from elite wealth extraction and toward enabling young Americans to buy homes and start families. The cultural divide must narrow, and shared values must be restored.

None of this is easy. All of it is essential. If these challenges remain unanswered, no one should be surprised when Caesar finally arrives.

Liberty cannot survive a culture that cheers assassins



When 20-year-old loner Thomas Matthew Crooks ascended a sloped roof in Butler County, Pennsylvania, and opened fire, he unleashed a torrent of clichés. Commentators and public figures avoided the term “assassination attempt,” even if the AR-15 was trained on the head of the Republican Party’s nominee for president. Instead, they condemned “political violence.”

“There is absolutely no place for political violence in our democracy,” former President Barack Obama said. One year later, he added the word “despicable” to his condemnation of the assassin who killed Charlie Kirk. That was an upgrade from two weeks prior, when he described the shooting at Annunciation Catholic School by a transgender person as merely “unnecessary.”

Those in power are not only failing to enforce order, but also excusing and even actively promoting the conditions that undermine a peaceful, stable, and orderly regime.

Anyone fluent in post-9/11 rhetoric knows that political violence is the domain of terrorists and lone wolf ideologues, whose manifestos will soon be unearthed by federal investigators, deciphered by the high priests of our therapeutic age, and debated by partisans on cable TV.

The attempt to reduce it to the mere atomized individual, however, is a modern novelty. From the American Revolution to the Civil War, from the 1863 draft riots to the 1968 MLK riots, from the spring of Rodney King to the summer of George Floyd, the United States has a long history of people resorting to violence to achieve political ends by way of the mob.

Since the January 6 riot that followed the 2020 election, the left has persistently attempted to paint the right as particularly prone to mob action. But as the online response to the murder of Charlie Kirk demonstrates — with thousands of leftists openly celebrating the gory, public assassination of a young father — the vitriol that drives mob violence is endemic to American political discourse and a perpetual threat to order.

America’s founders understood this all too well.

In August 1786, a violent insurrection ripped through the peaceful Massachusetts countryside. After the end of the Revolutionary War, many American soldiers found themselves caught in a vise, with debt collectors on one side and a government unable to make good on back pay on the other. A disgruntled former officer in the Continental Army named Daniel Shays led a violent rebellion aimed at breaking the vise at gunpoint.

“Commotions of this sort, like snow-balls, gather strength as they roll, if there is no opposition in the way to divide and crumble them,” George Washington wrote in a letter, striking a serene tone in the face of an insurrection. James Madison was less forgiving: “In all very numerous assemblies, of whatever character composed, passion never fails to wrest the sceptre from reason. Had every Athenian citizen been a Socrates, every Athenian assembly would still have been a mob,” he wrote inFederalist 55. Inspired by Shays’ Rebellion and seeking to rein in the excesses of democracy, lawmakers called for the Constitutional Convention in the summer of 1787.

Our current moment of chaos

If the United States Constitution was borne out of political chaos, why does the current moment strike so many as distinctly perilous? Classical political philosophy offers us a clearer answer to this question than modern psychoanalysis. The most pointed debate among philosophers throughout the centuries has centered on how to prevent mob violence and ensure that most unnatural of things: political order.

In Plato’s “Republic," the work that stands at the headwaters of the Western tradition of political philosophy, Socrates argues that the only truly just society is one in which philosophers are kings and kings are philosophers. As a rule, democracy devolves into tyranny, for mob rule inevitably breeds impulsive citizens who become focused on petty pleasures. The resulting disorder eventually becomes so unbearable that a demagogue arises, promising to restore order and peace.

The classically educated founders picked up on these ideas — mediated through Aristotle, Cicero, John Locke, and Montesquieu, among others — as they developed the structure of the new American government. The Constitution’s mixed government was explicitly designed to establish a political order that would take into consideration the sentiments and interests of the people without yielding to mob rule at the expense of order. The founders took for granted that powerful elites would necessarily be interested in upholding the regime from which they derived their authority.

Terror from the top

History has often seen disaffected elites stoke insurrections to defenestrate a ruling class that shut them out of public life. The famous case of the Catilinarian Conspiracy in late republican Rome, in which a disgruntled aristocrat named Catiline attempted to overthrow the republic during the consulship of Cicero, serves as a striking example.

In the 21st century, we face a different phenomenon: Those in power are not only failing to enforce order, but also excusing and even actively promoting the conditions that undermine a peaceful, stable, and orderly regime.

The points of erosion are numerous. The public cheerleading of assassinations can be dismissed as noise from the rabble, but it is more difficult to ignore the numerous calls from elites for civic conflagration. Newspapers are promoting historically dubious revisionism that undermines the moral legitimacy of the Constitution. Billionaire-backed prosecutors decline to prosecute violent crime.

For years, those in power at best ignored — and at worst encouraged — mob-driven chaos in American social life, resulting in declining trust in institutions, lowered expectations for basic public order, coarsened or altogether discarded social mores, and a general sense on all sides that Western civilization is breaking down.

Without a populace capable of self-control, liberty becomes impossible.

The United States has, of course, faced more robust political violence than what we are witnessing today. But even during the Civil War — brutal by any standard — a certain civility tended to obtain between the combatants. As Abraham Lincoln noted in his second inaugural address, “Both [sides] read the same Bible and pray to the same God.” Even in the midst of a horrific war, a shared sense of ultimate things somewhat tempered the disorder and destruction — and crucially promoted a semblance of reconciliation once the war ended.

Our modern disorder runs deeper. The shattering of fundamental shared assumptions about virtually anything leaves political opponents looking less like fellow citizens to be persuaded and more like enemies to be subdued.

Charlie Kirk, despite his relative political moderation and his persistent willingness to engage in attempts at persuasion, continues to be smeared by many as a “Nazi propagandist.” The willful refusal to distinguish between mostly run-of-the-mill American conservatism and the murderous foreign ideology known as National Socialism is telling. The implication is not subtle: If you disagree with me, you are my enemy — and I am justified in cheering your murder.

Fellow citizens who persistently view their political opponents as enemies and existential threats cannot long exist in a shared political community.

“Democracy is on the ballot,” the popular refrain goes, but rarely is democracy undermined by a single election. It is instead undermined by a gradual decline in public spiritedness and private virtue, as well as the loss of social trust and good faith necessary to avoid violence.

The chief prosecutors against institutional authority are not disaffected Catalines but the ruling class itself. This arrangement may work for a while, but both political theory and common sense suggest that it is volatile and unlikely to last for long.

The conditions of liberty

Political order, in general, requires a degree of virtue, public-spiritedness, and good will among the citizenry. James Madison in Federalist 55 remarks that, of all the possible permutations of government that have yet been conceived, republican government is uniquely dependent upon order and institutional legitimacy:

As there is a degree of depravity in mankind which requires a certain degree of circumspection and distrust, so there are other qualities in human nature which justify a certain portion of esteem and confidence. Republican government presupposes the existence of these qualities in a higher degree than any other form.

In short, republican government requires citizens who can govern themselves, an antidote to the passions that precede mayhem and assassination. Without a populace capable of self-control, liberty becomes impossible. Under such conditions, the releasing of restraints never liberates — it only promotes mob-like behavior.

RELATED: Radical killers turned campus heroes: How colleges idolize political violence

Photo by Scott Olson/Getty Images

The disorder of Shays’ Rebellion prompted the drafting of the Constitution, initiating what has sometimes been called an “experiment in ordered liberty.” That experiment was put to the test beginning in 1791 in Western Pennsylvania. The Whiskey Rebellion reached a crisis in Bower Hill, Pennsylvania, about 50 miles south of modern-day Butler, when a mob of 600 disgruntled residents laid siege to a federal tax collector. With the blessing of the Supreme Court Chief Justice and Federalistco-author John Jay, President George Washington assembled troops to put down the rebellion.

Washington wrote in a proclamation:

I have accordingly determined [to call the militia], feeling the deepest regret for the occasion, but withal the most solemn conviction that the essential interests of the Union demand it, that the very existence of government and the fundamental principles of social order are materially involved in the issue, and that the patriotism and firmness of all good citizens are seriously called upon, as occasions may require, to aid in the effectual suppression of so fatal a spirit.

Washington left Philadelphia to march thousands of state militiamen into the rebel haven of Western Pennsylvania. The insurrectionists surrendered without firing a shot.

Our new era of political violence rolls on, with Charlie Kirk’s murder being only the latest and most prominent example. Our leaders assure us they will ride out into the field just as Washington once did. Whether they will use their presence and influence to suppress or encourage “so fatal a spirit” remains an open question.

Editor’s note: A version of this article was published originally at the American Mind.

Civics isn’t a class; it’s the backbone of the republic we fight for



I slept through high school civics class. I memorized the three branches of government, promptly forgot them, and never thought of that word again. Civics seemed abstract, disconnected from real life. And yet, it is critical to maintaining our republic.

Civics is not a class. It is a responsibility. A set of habits, disciplines, and values that make a country possible. Without it, no country survives.

We assume America will survive automatically, but every generation must learn to carry the weight of freedom.

Civics happens every time you speak freely, worship openly, question your government, serve on a jury, or cast a ballot. It’s not a theory or just another entry in a textbook. It’s action — the acts we perform every day to be a positive force in society.

Many of us recoil at “civic responsibility.” “I pay my taxes. I follow the law. I do my civic duty.” That’s not civics. That’s a scam, in my opinion.

Taking up the torch

The founders knew a republic could never run on autopilot. And yet, that’s exactly what we do now. We assume it will work, then complain when it doesn’t. Meanwhile, the people steering the country are driving it straight into a mountain — and they know it.

Our founders gave us tools: separation of powers, checks and balances, federalism, elections. But they also warned us: It won’t work unless we are educated, engaged, and moral.

Are we educated, engaged, and moral? Most Americans cannot even define a republic, never mind “keep one,” as Benjamin Franklin urged us to do after the Constitutional Convention.

We fought and died for the republic. Gaining it was the easy part. Keeping it is hard. And keeping it is done through civics.

Start small and local

In our homes, civics means teaching our children the Constitution, our history, and that liberty is not license — it is the space to do what is right. In our communities, civics means volunteering, showing up, knowing your sheriff, attending school board meetings, and understanding the laws you live under. When necessary, it means challenging them.

How involved are you in your local community? Most people would admit: not really.

Civics is learned in practice. And it starts small. Be honest in your business dealings. Speak respectfully in disagreement. Vote in every election, not just the presidential ones. Model citizenship for your children. Liberty is passed down by teaching and example.

RELATED: America’s rights come from God — not from Tim Kaine’s government

Photo by Bill Oxford via Getty Images

We assume America will survive automatically, but every generation must learn to carry the weight of freedom.

Start with yourself. Study the Constitution, the Bill of Rights, and state laws. Study, act, serve, question, and teach. Only then can we hope to save the republic. The next election will not fix us. The nation will rise or fall based on how each of us lives civics every day.

Civics isn’t a class. It’s the way we protect freedom, empower our communities, and pass down liberty to the next generation.

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There Are Three Good Reasons To Cut Bureaucratic Bloat, And Only One Is About Money

The real goal of DOGE is the return the government to the limited, constitutional order envisioned by the founders.

The prayers that shaped a nation can save it again



I’ve often wondered what our Founding Fathers would think of their great American experiment. Imagine George Washington strolling down the Las Vegas Strip, Thomas Jefferson riding the Tennessee Tornado at Dollywood, or John Adams catching a “throwed roll” at Lamberts in Missouri.

Would they be awestruck by the Independence Day fireworks in New York City? Or cheer at the Super Bowl? Would they marvel at the soaring Gateway Arch in St. Louis? Or the majesty of the Rocky Mountains? Would Betsy Ross wash down a Moon Pie with an R.C. Cola?

‘The greatness of America doesn’t begin in Washington,’ Ronald Reagan said. ‘It begins with each of you — in the mighty spirit of free people under God.’

On the last day of the Constitutional Convention of 1787, Benjamin Franklin was asked if we had a republic or a monarchy?

“A republic, if you can keep it,” he was said to reply.

Without a doubt, America is the most exceptional nation in the world. In the face of great adversity and insurmountable odds, we have overcome. And we have been blessed.

And that’s why I set out on a mission with my friend Michelle Cox to write “Star-Spangled Blessings: Devotions for Patriots.”

It’s a collection of stories about how God has lavished our country with a bounty of star-spangled blessings.

That’s not to say that our great nation has not been through some squabbles. We’ve had more than a few — and some were doozies. We’ve made lots of mistakes, but we’ve also righted many wrongs.

Perseverance is a word that has defined us over the years. Franklin Roosevelt announcing to the nation about a date that would live in infamy. Walter Cronkite relaying to the nation a shocking bulletin from Dallas. President George W. Bush standing on a pile of rubble at Ground Zero with a bullhorn.

Yet, amid great tragedy, our nation has always found strength in almighty God — our defender and our protector.

President Trump knows of that strength, that divine intervention. He survived not one but two assassination attempts.

“Many people have told me that God spared my life for a reason. And that reason was to save our country and to restore America to greatness, and now we are going to fulfill that mission together,” he said during a speech in 2024.

I vividly recall watching as the shots rang out in Butler County, Pennsylvania. My heart stopped as Trump dropped to the stage. But then, he rose up, and with blood streaming down his face, he thrust his fist into the air and shouted, “Fight, fight, fight!”

President Trump would then urge Americans to read their Bibles, to get back to church, and to pray.

“Let’s make America pray again,” he said.

The president caught quite a bit of grief from the atheists and the Democrats for that altar call.

“Religion and Christianity are the biggest things missing from this country, and I truly believe that we need to bring them back, and we have to bring them back fast,” the president said at the time. “I think it's one of the biggest problems we have. That’s why our country is going haywire. We've lost religion in our country. All Americans need a Bible in their home, and I have many. It's my favorite book. It's a lot of people's favorite book.”

Now, that’ll preach, as we say back home in Tennessee.

RELATED: The art of prayer: How to unleash its power

Photo by Andrew Harnik/Getty Images

Sure, we have lost our way in this country. We’ve been so focused on taking back Congress and the White House that we forgot to take care of our homes and our communities.

Ronald Reagan said it best in 1984 when he told the nation that “the greatness of America doesn’t begin in Washington. It begins with each of you — in the mighty spirit of free people under God, in the bedrock values you live by each day in your families, neighborhoods, and workplaces.”

As I write in “Star-Spangled Blessings,” we must return to the faith of our founders. A faith that compelled George Washington to pray on bended knee at Valley Forge.

A faith that compelled John Adams to petition the almighty to bless those who resided in the White House. A faith that compelled Franklin Roosevelt to ask Americans to pray for a spiritual awakening.

It’s that sort of American spirit that has resonated with people across the fruited plain. These are moments that define us as a nation.

Lee Greenwood, the singer-songwriter who penned “God Bless the USA,” is a friend of mine, and his anthem to the land of the free and the home of the brave still brings a tear to my eye as I write these words from the hills of Tennessee.

And I suspect that if America’s founders were here today, they would love this land from sea to shining sea. And they would join their fellow countrymen in asking God to bless the USA.

Punch a cop, get a charge — even if you’re in Congress



With a recent assault on the very federal law enforcement officers they are charged with overseeing, Democrats haven’t just embraced criminals; they’ve become them.

Last month, three Democratic lawmakers — Reps. Rob Menendez Jr., Bonnie Watson Coleman, and LaMonica McIver, all from New Jersey — led a mob of protesters in storming the Delaney Hall Immigration and Customs Enforcement facility. They waited for a bus full of detainees to arrive, then rushed the open gate and physically clashed with federal officers.

Our republic will not survive if America’s elected leaders are allowed to act like this. They not only committed crimes in public but then hid behind their Article I powers as a shield.

This wasn’t symbolic. This was an elected mob laying hands on law enforcement.

The video tells the story: shoving, punching, and chaos. These three members of Congress — who represent more than two million Americans — assaulted officers doing their jobs. Then, astonishingly, they claimed they were the victims, despite clear footage proving otherwise.

All of this over what turned out to be nothing.

After the chaos, ICE officials offered the lawmakers a guided tour of the facility. The Democrats quietly admitted they found no signs of mistreatment. Their entire stunt, billed as a protest of conditions, collapsed under the weight of reality. They walked in demanding accountability and walked out with nothing but bad footage and a pending felony charge.

Yes, a felony.

Rep. McIver now faces a federal charge of assaulting a law enforcement officer, announced on May 20 by Acting U.S. Attorney Alina Habba. President Trump and Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem have made it clear: This administration backs the rule of law. If you punch a cop, you get charged — even if you have a congressional pin on your lapel.

The left tried to frame the incident as “congressional oversight.” But oversight doesn’t mean storming gates or skipping security checks. ICE policy allows members of Congress to tour facilities — even unannounced. But it does not allow them to create security threats, bypass screening, or lead mobs onto federal property. Those procedures exist to protect staff, detainees, and lawmakers alike.

This was not oversight. It was lawlessness, pure and simple.

RELATED: Memo to Democrats: ‘Oversight’ isn’t a get-out-of-jail-free card

Photo by Andrew Harnik/Getty Images

Since President Trump restored control of the southern border, anti-border Democrats have become unhinged. No longer able to rely on waves of illegal crossings, they’ve begun imitating the tactics of the very criminal aliens they once defended — storming barriers, resisting authority, and attacking officers.

Now, that’s the legacy of the modern Democratic Party.

But legal consequences alone aren’t enough. Congress must act.

The House should censure all three lawmakers involved. Censure is not a punishment; it’s a statement of principle. And lawmakers have been censured for far less than leading an assault on federal agents. The House has a duty to uphold the integrity of its own body. That means sending a message: If you behave like a thug, you’ll be treated like one.

Our republic will not survive if America’s elected leaders are allowed to act like this. They not only committed crimes in public but then hid behind their Article I powers as a shield.

America’s founders warned about this.

In "Federalist 1," Alexander Hamilton posed a choice: Would Americans build a government based on “reflection and choice” — or surrender to “accident and force”? That question remains. If lawmakers now claim the right to break the laws they swore to uphold, we’re no longer living in a constitutional republic. We’re living under mob rule.

And if we let this slide — if Congress fails to hold its own accountable — then we’ll have no one to blame when the next mob storms another federal building under another political banner.

Democrats love to remind us: “No one is above the law.” Fine. Then prove it.