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The Department of War would remind America what’s really at stake



President Donald Trump made headlines this week by signaling a rebrand of the Defense Department — restoring its original name, the Department of War.

At first, I was skeptical. “Defense” suggests restraint, a principle I consider vital to U.S. foreign policy. “War” suggests aggression. But for the first 158 years of the republic, that was the honest name: the Department of War.

A Department of War recognizes the truth: The military exists to fight and, if necessary, to win decisively.

The founders never intended a permanent standing army. When conflict came — the Revolution, the War of 1812, the trenches of France, the beaches of Normandy — the nation called men to arms, fought, and then sent them home. Each campaign was temporary, targeted, and necessary.

From ‘war’ to ‘military-industrial complex’

Everything changed in 1947. President Harry Truman — facing the new reality of nuclear weapons, global tension, and two world wars within 20 years — established a full-time military and rebranded the Department of War as the Department of Defense. Americans resisted; we had never wanted a permanent army. But Truman convinced the country it was necessary.

Was the name change an early form of political correctness? A way to soften America’s image as a global aggressor? Or was it simply practical? Regardless, the move created a permanent, professional military. But it also set the stage for something Truman’s successor, President Dwight “Ike” Eisenhower famously warned about: the military-industrial complex.

Ike, the five-star general who commanded Allied forces in World War II and stormed Normandy, delivered a harrowing warning during his farewell address: The military-industrial complex would grow powerful. Left unchecked, it could influence policy and push the nation toward unnecessary wars.

And that’s exactly what happened. The Department of Defense, with its full-time and permanent army, began spending like there was no tomorrow. Weapons were developed, deployed, and sometimes used simply to justify their existence.

Peace through strength

When Donald Trump said this week, “I don’t want to be defense only. We want defense, but we want offense too,” some people freaked out. They called him a warmonger. He isn’t. Trump is channeling a principle older than him: peace through strength. Ronald Reagan preached it; Trump is taking it a step further.

Just this week, Trump also suggested limiting nuclear missiles — hardly the considerations of a warmonger — echoing Reagan, who wanted to remove missiles from silos while keeping them deployable on planes.

The seemingly contradictory move of Trump calling for a Department of War sends a clear message: He wants Americans to recognize that our military exists not just for defense, but to project power when necessary.

Trump has pointed to something critically important: The best way to prevent war is to have a leader who knows exactly who he is and what he will do. Trump signals strength, deterrence, and resolve. You want to negotiate? Great. You don’t? Then we’ll finish the fight decisively.

That’s why the world listens to us. That’s why nations come to the table — not because Trump is reckless, but because he means what he says and says what he means. Peace under weakness invites aggression. Peace under strength commands respect.

Trump is the most anti-war president we’ve had since Jimmy Carter. But unlike Carter, Trump isn’t weak. Carter’s indecision emboldened enemies and made the world less safe. Trump’s strength makes the country stronger. He believes in peace as much as any president. But he knows peace requires readiness for war.

Names matter

When we think of “defense,” we imagine cybersecurity, spy programs, and missile shields. But when we think of “war,” we recall its harsh reality: death, destruction, and national survival. Trump is reminding us what the Department of Defense is really for: war. Not nation-building, not diplomacy disguised as military action, not endless training missions. War — full stop.

RELATED: Trump makes a bold push for global competitors to abandon nukes: 'The power is too great'

Photo by Chip Somodevilla / Staff via Getty Images

Names matter. Words matter. They shape identity and character. A Department of Defense implies passivity, a posture of reaction. A Department of War recognizes the truth: The military exists to fight and, if necessary, to win decisively.

So yes, I’ve changed my mind. I’m for the rebranding to the Department of War. It shows strength to the world. It reminds Americans, internally and externally, of the reality we face. The Department of Defense can no longer be a euphemism. Our military exists for war — not without deterrence, but not without strength either. And we need to stop deluding ourselves.

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No country for angry young men



When one of Donald Trump’s strongest voting blocs starts to fall off after just six months of a largely successful second term, it’s time for some soul-searching.

Not just because the midterms loom or because 2028 is already on the horizon. The demographic in question — young men — will shape, defend, and lead this country well beyond the next election. If they’ve grown too cynical to bother, the rest of us may be left holding the bag.

When the past and present betray a generation, expect that generation to reshape the future.

Trump’s 2024 performance with 18- to 29-year-old men marked the best Republican showing since George W. Bush won that demographic in 2004 — the last time the GOP won the popular vote. Young men backed Ronald Reagan in the 1980s, then defected to Bill Clinton in the 1990s. Bush 43 pulled them back temporarily, but by the time Obama, Hillary, and Biden came along, Democrats had captured their hearts — and their votes.

Yikes. That’s no way to live. Yet today’s young men are angrier, more cynical, more disruptive — and more serious. They don’t want to “save” Social Security. They want to be saved from it. They aren’t starting out wide-eyed like the Boomers. They didn’t get the luxury of being idealists first and realists later. They started with realism, forged by debt, disillusionment, and betrayal.

These young men want a way of life back. They want accountability for the people who stole it from them.

The average 25-year-old white male is already more “based” than his Reagan-voting grandfather ever was or ever could be. And he’s not finding any comfort in Fox News. So the question is: Will anyone offer him a white pill before he plants the flag of “I just don’t care any more” at the 50-yard line of American life?

This generation won’t follow unless they’re given a mission worth sacrificing for. Trump’s brand won’t carry them forever. They can’t afford homes. They can’t find wives who aren’t steeped in feminist dogma. They can’t compete in a DEI-rigged job market. And now they’re expected to watch the people who ruined their future skate by without consequences?

That’s not how this works. That’s not how any of this works.

Young men like my son don’t want slogans. They want justice. They want our leaders to treat domestic traitors at least as ruthlessly as we’ve treated our allies in trade negotiations. They’ve seen enough memes. If the memes don’t end in prison time, they’ll see them as mockery. They want consequences — and they want them handed out with severe prejudice.

That’s the instinct of men who’ve been cornered for too long. Dread it, run from it — it’s coming. Unless we offer them something better, they’ll start making something worse.

Don’t count on them to keep voting Republican just because the Democrats are just that bad. That’s a losing bet. These young men reject the old paradigms — left, right, Reagan, Bush. Whatever. They’ve even begun questioning the biblical dispensationalism that guided American foreign policy for decades.

When the past and present betray a generation, expect that generation to reshape the future.

Our shot at shaping that future is now. If we fail to hold the deep state accountable yet again, then we’d better produce an economic boom big enough to distract from the urge to burn everything down.

We’ve convinced ourselves that soft, passive men define the modern male. But history — and nature — doesn’t work that way. Sooner or later, the animal comes roaring back — and a new generation rises, looking to settle scores.

Better get ready.

America Is Not A ‘Nation Of Immigrants’

This insidious slogan is once again being used by Republicans to justify another amnesty bill.

New GOP-Backed Amnesty Bill Is A Gift To Dems And A Middle Finger To Republican Voters

The release — or lack thereof — of the Epstein Files has consumed most of MAGA’s attention in recent days. But there’s something far more dangerous that deserves the full force of MAGA’s attention: a cadre of so-called Republicans is working to foist a mass amnesty program on the American people. Florida Republican Rep. María […]

The next Christian revolution won’t be livestreamed on TikTok



Ronald Reagan famously cited the Roman maxim, “If it was not for the elders correcting the mistakes of the young, there would be no state.” That wisdom rings hollow when you’re on the mistake-making side.

Generation Z hasn’t exactly earned a reputation for excellence. As we wrote this, professional activist Greta Thunberg was in Paris, pausing her carbon-shaming campaign to weigh in on the war against Hamas. Here at home, Gen Z Democratic influencer Olivia Julianna is trying to rebrand her party’s image among young men by championing abortion access and highlighting its supposedly deep, hidden love for groups like Black Lives Matter.

Being ‘Christian first, conservative second’ isn’t political surrender. It’s the basis for cultural authority.

That barely scratches the surface.

A quick scroll through X reveals countless under-30 users with enormous followings and the “influencer” label — despite having little real influence. Their mistakes aren’t just frequent. They’re embarrassing.

So what’s a Christian Zoomer supposed to do?

The extreme of ‘influencerdom’

At a high level, the answer is simple: Build systems that reflect Christian values, and challenge the ones that don’t. But real influence won’t come by copying the warped incentives pushed by our generation’s loudest voices.

The skills needed to go viral online rarely match the skills needed to drive real-world change. In fact, they often clash. Posting about the dangers of corporate diversity, equity, and inclusion is one thing; using influence to force lasting change in corporate policy is something else entirely. Both matter — but they aren’t the same.

The other extreme: Apathy

But political “influencerdom” isn’t the only problem. Gen Z also suffers from a serious apathy problem. Between the aftershocks of the COVID economy and apocalyptic climate narratives — why bother thinking seriously about policy if the sun’s going to explode in 10 years? — Zoomers have earned a reputation as, in the Wall Street Journal’s words, “America’s Most Disillusioned Voters.

We’ll show up to vote — maybe. But posting on Instagram takes less effort, so we’ll do that instead. One analysis summarized the challenge this way: “Campaigns must focus on converting robust online advocacy into real-world voter turnout.” That’s the kind of strategy you get when no one really cares.

RELATED: Church is cool again — and Gen Z men are leading the way

Shuang Paul Wang via iStock/Getty Images

A Christian Zoomer response

As Christians, our duty is the opposite of apathy. We’re called to care. Rejecting our generation’s default indifference is just the beginning. “Christ is King” isn’t a license to coast — it’s the foundation for action.

Here are some practical ways Christian Zoomers can avoid the traps of both performative activism and total disengagement.

Seek wisdom from the right sources. Don’t look to influencers for answers. The people most worth learning from probably don’t have a million followers on X. Avoid the echo chamber of “onlineness.” Instead, find expertise from unglamorous sources: people with “lived experience,” technical know-how, and hard-earned wisdom.

Join a local church. Every Christian needs the weekly rhythm of worship, sound teaching, and community. But for young believers navigating a secular world, the church is especially vital. Find a congregation that preaches the gospel clearly and offers intergenerational support. This isn’t about socializing — it’s about growing in conviction and courage through regular contact with people who live by “Christ first, culture second.”

Vote locally. You don’t have to be a political junkie, but you should know what’s happening in your county. Local and state policies affect your daily life far more than most federal debates. National politics is often a circus; local politics is where things actually get done. Caring about what happens five miles from home is a Christian habit worth cultivating.

Think before you post. Virtue-signaling comes in all forms — left, right, and “based.” Whether it’s a black square or the latest meme, pause before jumping in. Ask: “Am I actually doing something about this issue in my community?” If the answer is yes, then post away. If not, maybe start with action before broadcasting your opinion.

Keep a few friends who disagree with you. Yes, surround yourself with faithful Christians — but don’t retreat into an ideological bunker. Having friends with different views helps you resist tribalism. You may not see eye to eye on politics, but they probably aren’t your enemies. Humanizing your opponents is a discipline, one that fights against the hyperfixation and outrage that dominate our age.

Serve somewhere. Whether you care about the unborn, the incarcerated, or victims of trafficking, find a local organization doing the work — and show up. It’s easy to have strong opinions about cultural decay. It’s much harder to give your time. But service grounds us. It reminds us of God’s blessings and our call to be His hands and feet.

Our generation veers between two extremes: obsessive political engagement and total apathy. Both reflect a flawed attempt to wring meaning from a system designed only to support human flourishing — not define it. And both fail.

The politically apathetic pride themselves on floating above the fray, looking down on those who care enough to engage. The hyper-engaged believe their passion sets them apart — morally superior to the so-called “normies” who sleepwalk through civic life.

Both attitudes are wrong.

If we, the rising generation of Christians, want to engage the culture meaningfully, we must refuse to measure our success — or define our mission — by worldly standards.

Being “Christian first, conservative second” isn’t political surrender. It’s the basis for cultural authority. It doesn’t excuse disengagement. It demands engagement.

We act because we believe every person bears the image of God. That truth drives our pursuit of justice, mercy, and truth. Our theology shapes our politics, not the other way around.

And if pagan, anti-Christian values fall in the process? So much the better!

David Gergen Dead At 83

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Why MAGA wants the Epstein list — and won’t settle for less



What’s happening with Donald Trump and Pam Bondi’s mishandling of the Jeffrey Epstein files is a textbook example of the rake-stepping that tripped up the president’s first term. The timing is worse this time, too — because it stands in sharp contrast to the mostly smooth, high-functioning operation of Trump’s second term so far.

Something’s clearly going on behind the scenes — something so sensitive that it’s backing this administration into corners that no number of Ben Shapiro explainers can easily talk us out of. I won’t speculate here on what exactly that “something” is. You’ve earned the right to connect your own dots in this post-COVID, post-trans-the-kids world.

We are in a civil war — spiritual, political, cultural. And the last thing we can afford right now is to split our ranks over a human toilet like Jeffrey Epstein.

But the politics of this mess? That’s what I want to talk about.

A movement that’s moved on

As someone who came of age politically reading Buckley, Kirk, Friedman, and Reagan — before I ever knew the gospel — I’ve often found myself at odds with parts of the MAGA movement. My political DNA was shaped by ideas. MAGA has shifted into something else entirely, something rawer, more primal. Less interested in debating the “oughts” and more obsessed with exposing the corruption and rot.

In that sense, DeSantis vs. Trump wasn’t just a primary — it was a proxy war. And MAGA told people like me, flat out: We’re not ready for your high-minded conversation. First, we’ve got to name names and slash some tires.

One of those names, from the very beginning, was Epstein — and anyone who set foot on his infamous island.

Trump himself promised to release the Epstein list more than once on the 2024 campaign trail. So did members of his inner circle. That pledge became a symbol — a MAGA line in the sand. Break it, and you break trust. Think Bush 41’s “read my lips” betrayal, but this time with the stakes multiplied by a base that’s already been burned too many times.

The movement wants its perp walk. And until it gets it, as the prophets Hetfield and Ulrich once said, nothing else matters.

The fracture under way

Still think this is just internet drama? Then explain why George Conway is reposting Glenn Beck. Did you have that on your 2025 bingo card?

Or why Jake Tapper — yes, that Jake Tapper — thinks this is his comeback moment. He’s calling for the release of the Epstein list and the tapes, not because he cares about justice, but because he knows exactly how deep the wound could go. He sees the opportunity to turn a hairline fracture in Trump’s base into a compound break.

RELATED: The Epstein case proves one thing: The elites are protected

Photo by Spencer Platt/Getty Images

And here’s the thing: He might succeed.

Unless someone at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue or the Justice Department decides it’s worth risking serious chaos in the GOP, this issue won’t just fester. It’ll metastasize.

If this controversy had erupted while Trump was pushing votes for the One Big Beautiful Bill Act or preparing to bomb Iran, would the base have stood firm? Maybe not. Because this hits differently. This feels moral. Existential. A test of whether Trump’s still serious — or if power has tamed him as it tamed so many before.

The clock is ticking

And what happens in 2026?

Republican turnout in the low 90s won’t cut it — not with a deflated, demoralized base that sees Epstein accountability as a promise on par with Trump’s other major blunders. COVID. Fauci. The shots. Pile on Elon Musk’s third-party siren song, and that’s maybe just enough to peel off five points, and you’ve got a perfect storm of apathy, betrayal, and collapse.

This is the math no one wants to run — but it’s already penciled in.

The Trump team’s answers are getting the red-pen treatment in real time. The political class can pretend this is a sideshow. It isn’t. It’s the main stage, and the spotlight’s burning hot.

We are in a civil war — spiritual, political, cultural. And the last thing we can afford right now is to split our ranks over a human toilet like Jeffrey Epstein.

Trump can’t let Reagan’s greatest mistake become his legacy



Charlie Kirk reported this week that President Trump faces growing pressure from GOP donors to cut a bipartisan deal offering amnesty to illegal aliens working in agriculture and hospitality. The donor class has long hated Trump and especially his supporters’ demand for real border security and immigration enforcement.

Big business pushing for cheap labor isn’t surprising. What’s alarming is Trump echoing their rhetoric.

What was effectively Ronald Reagan’s 1986 amnesty doomed California. It transformed a red stronghold into the Democrats’ electoral anchor. Trump can’t afford to make the same mistake.

Donald Trump says a lot of things. Anyone who gets emotionally exasperated at any single statement will start to look like a hysterical journalist. Salena Zito’s sage advice — “Take Trump seriously, not literally” — still applies. He might joke about annexing Canada, but those lines rarely lead to action.

At the same time, Trump takes public opinion seriously. He gauges crowd response and often walks back proposals that don't land. That makes it important to push back on bad ideas without losing perspective.

Trust the plan — but verify the plan regularly.

Kirk understands this. That’s why he’s mobilized opposition now to any amnesty deal, real or imagined. He wouldn’t act unless he sensed real movement inside the swamp. Corporate America has tolerated immigration enforcement as long as it targeted gang members and drug dealers. But when Immigration and Customs Enforcement started raiding farms and hotels, the donor class panicked.

Suddenly, Trump began repeating talking points from Secretary of Agriculture Brooke Rollins about farmers and hotel owners losing their “best workers.” He promised to help them get the labor they need. His administration quietly issued guidance exempting farms and hotels from immigration raids.

The online backlash came fast — and fierce. The administration reversed course and rescinded the exemptions.

But Trump didn’t quite drop the issue. He kept talking about farmers’ need for labor. In the wake of the One Big Beautiful Bill Act, which delivered major funding for border security, Beltway insiders started floating a pivot: tack back to the center and strike a deal.

That whisper campaign likely prompted Kirk to sound the alarm.

Special carve-outs for illegal labor would betray MAGA’s core promise. Maybe 10 years ago, building a wall and deporting the worst offenders would have been enough. But after eight million illegal aliens surged across the border under Biden’s illegitimate regime, the situation changed. Democrats intentionally flooded the country to shift its demographics and tilt elections. If we don’t reverse that flood, they win.

RELATED: Where the left gets its rage against borders

Photo by Adam J. Dewey/Anadolu via Getty Images

After Kirk’s warning, Rollins re-emerged to promise that mass deportations would continue. The base cheered. But she added that future enforcement would be more “strategic” — a telling hedge. Trump followed up by insisting he opposed amnesty, then immediately floated a new “worker program” to help farmers. That language did not reassure.

The United States already has legal guest worker programs. Farms that ignore them and hire illegal aliens are breaking the law. They don’t deserve special treatment. They deserve prosecution.

The truth is, letting illegal aliens stay and rewarding them with American jobs is amnesty. Redefining the term won’t change that.

Conservatives have heard this pitch before. At this point, it’s almost comical. Every “immigration reform” ends the same way: Illegal aliens stay, and the floodgates reopen. It starts with the workers, then families follow. Chain migration becomes mass migration.

Trump was elected because he promised to break this cycle. He built his legacy on tough immigration policies — mass deportations, the wall, an America First agenda. To flirt with a Reagan-style amnesty now would be an incredible betrayal.

What was effectively Ronald Reagan’s 1986 amnesty doomed California. It transformed a red stronghold into the Democrats’ electoral anchor. Trump can’t afford to make the same mistake.

He must shut down this talk — shut down Rollins especially — and remember why voters chose him over the establishment in the first place. The donor class got Trump wrong in 2016. If he listens to its members now, they’ll take him — and the country — down with them.