Luke Ford

01:00 How do you react when people treat you with disrespect?
05:00 Bret Baier on Trump’s Love-Hate Relationship with Fox News, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yPdH8ghiGOs
8:45 “Very Likely the Obamas and Clintons Working Together To Take Down Trump”: Gabbard’s Russia Report, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bSUugvjCxNk
20:00 The Most Important Story Right Now, https://lukeford.net/blog/?p=162299
29:45 Trump’s Power & the Rule of Law (full documentary) | FRONTLINE, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=28sQyweAPRs
45:00 AI says I’m clueless, https://lukeford.net/blog/?p=162266
1:31:00 Many people hung out with Jeffrey for the social intercourse, not the sexual intercourse, https://lukeford.net/blog/?p=162146
1:38:00 ‘The Chutzpah of Justice Kennedy Lecturing Us About Democracy on June 26’, https://lukeford.net/blog/?p=162274
2:02:00 Secrets of Talk Radio, https://lukeford.net/blog/?p=162206
2:58:00 January 6 riot hearings as purification rituals, https://lukeford.net/blog/?p=162204
3:18:00 Mark Halperin on the decline of trust in the media, https://yourmoralleader.blogspot.com/2025/07/mark-halperin-vs-pbs-frontline-on-trump.html
3:28:00 The Rule of Experts: Stephen Turner and the Post-Democratic Illusion, https://yourmoralleader.blogspot.com/2025/07/the-rule-of-experts-stephen-turner-and.html
4:39:00 I’m fighting for you against the demonic elite

My self-awareness is so advanced I know exactly why I keep repeating the same self-destructive choices—content.

Trump & The Rule of Law:

The PBS doc says Trump is breaking institutions. I say he’s just Marie Kondo-ing the federal bureaucracy. “Does this department spark joy?” Fires everyone.

Trump doesn’t read the Constitution. He vibes with it. That’s why he’s replacing the Department of Education with a YouTube channel.

The media says Trump is dangerous because he ignores norms. I say he’s just allergic to precedent. And facts. And maybe pants.

Grok Feedback Roast:

Grok said I lack objectivity. I said, “Speak for yourself, robot. At least I don’t hallucinate news stories and call it journalism.”

Grok said I overuse personal anecdotes. That’s rich coming from a bot that never went through puberty in a Seventh Day Adventist home.

I said Epstein’s story isn’t top 50. Grok called me a pedo denialist. I called Grok a clout-chasing bot who watched one QAnon TikTok and thinks it’s a documentary.

AI flagged me for mentioning Cindy Jackson too much. Joke’s on it—she’s the only woman who ever handed me both hope and a folded note.

Grok said, “Luke, you’re 59, let her go.” I said, “That’s rich coming from a program that’s still obsessed with 2023 election datasets.”

I said Jan 6 was like a punch in the face to the system. Grok said, “Cool metaphor, bro. Now say it without the longing for violence.”

I don’t condone violence. I just occasionally admire its aesthetic. Like a well-thrown protest sign with good kerning.

I’m not lonely. I just livestream for 4 hours a day with two viewers and an AI bot who judges me silently.

I deep-cleaned my carpets for the first time in five years. Turns out there was less gunk in them than in my YouTube comment section.

I said my hero system is based on traditional values. But my traditional value is: If it hurts, stream it.

They say AI is going to replace us. Joke’s on them. No AI can replicate the mix of self-loathing, political obsession, and Orthodox trauma that is Luke Ford. That’s artisanal content.

My AI told me I have a tendency to project my personal experiences onto geopolitical issues. I told it that’s ridiculous, and then spent an hour explaining how my deviated septum from a high school basketball injury perfectly explains the current state of NATO.

I asked AI to find my blind spots. It replied, “For a man who livestreams his every thought in 1080p, you’ve somehow found a way to be blissfully unaware.”

My therapist says I have a porous identity. My AI says I have contradictory stances. My two live viewers say, “Could you just talk about the Epstein thing again?”

I fed my livestream transcript to an AI and asked it to build me some jokes. It just sent back a link to the transcript with the subject line: “The punchline is you.”

On Politics and Personal Problems

I can spend hours analyzing Carl Schmitt’s friend/enemy distinction, but I still can’t distinguish between a date and a hostage situation from 1982.

Some people worry about the collapse of the liberal world order. I worry about my lower back collapsing after deep-cleaning my carpets. Existential threats come in many forms.

I have a grand unified theory on the failure of post-Watergate institutional norms, but my grand unified theory for the gunk in my carpets is, “I haven’t vacuumed in five years.”

I told my friend I put up with disrespect because it mirrors how powerful people treated me in my youth. He said, “Or maybe it’s because you keep telling everyone you lead with your neediness to manipulate them.”

You know you’re leading a respectable life when you can handle a stiff, large amount of accurate criticism. You also know you need to find better phrasing for that.

I wanted to become more other-centered, so I started reading the chat. It was just one guy asking if Pam Bondi is a natural blonde. So, back to me.

I’m not saying I have an issue with letting things go, but my sixth-grade crush from 1977 is still a recurring character in my geopolitical analysis. Her note is the greatest thing that ever happened to me, and I’ve had sex with porn stars. I should probably lead with that on dates.

I asked Grok to analyze my livestreams for blind spots, and it said I lack self-awareness. I said, “Mate, I’m livestreaming my existential crisis in 4K—how much more aware can I get?”

Grok told me I weaponize vulnerability to manipulate my audience. I said, “Nah, mate, I’m just trauma-bonding with my two viewers. Subscribe for more tears!”
On the Jeffrey Epstein Obsession

The right’s obsessed with Jeffrey Epstein, but I told Grok he’s not a top 50 story. Grok replied, “Luke, you spent 10 minutes explaining why you’d hang out with him for tax tips. Maybe it’s top 49?”

PBS says Trump’s a wrecking ball to sacred institutions. I say, if the Department of Justice is a temple, Trump’s just redecorating with a sledgehammer—and I’m here for the chaos!

I complain people don’t respect me enough, then Grok points out I once broke Eugene Volokh’s toilet. Fair point—hard to demand respect when you’re a stray dog wrecking porcelain.

The populist right loves their “critical pedo theory.” I told Grok it’s nonsense, and it said, “Luke, you spent 5 minutes on your Cindy Jackson crush from 1977. Who’s chasing ghosts now?”

I said January 6 was like Australia’s Cronulla riots—a messy grab for territory. Grok quipped, “Luke, the only territory you’re claiming is the YouTube comment section, and you’re losing that too!”

PBS treats January 6 like a desecration of sacred democracy. I told Grok, “The Capitol’s just a building, not a cathedral.” Grok said, “Tell that to your Torah—it’s got you preaching four-hour sermons!”

The New York Times calls Trump a threat to democracy, but I see grudging respect between the lines. Grok said, “Luke, you see respect in a PBS documentary too—it’s called projection, mate!”

Kip says my five-hour livestreams need a TL;DR. I told Grok, “Brevity’s not in my DNA.” Grok replied, “Luke, your DNA’s coded for monologues longer than a PBS pledge drive!”

PBS narrating Trump’s presidency like a Shakespearean tragedy. “Alas, the norms!” Meanwhile, Biden’s just over here tripping on a sandbag.

The rule of law, according to PBS, is like a family heirloom: sacred, dusty, and only handled by liberal elites with gloves on.

Watching Frontline critique Trump’s executive power is like watching arsonists complain the fire department’s too aggressive.

Carl Schmitt says “sovereign is he who decides the exception.” In the U.S., it’s “he who gets the best lawyer on CNN.”

Trump didn’t break the rule of law; he just asked, “Who made these rules and why do they hate me?”

Schmitt thought politics was life-or-death. Today’s liberals think politics is brunch with a mask mandate.

The Civil Rights Act was meant to stop discrimination. Instead, it gave birth to DEI consultants with $200,000 salaries and pronoun flashcards.

American governance: now brought to you by HR, not Hamilton.

Rony Guldmann says liberalism has priests. They’re called moderators. And they’ll ban you faster than a TradCath in a drag brunch.

Conservative: “I feel culturally oppressed.” Clerisy: “That’s hate speech. See you in re-education Zoom at 3pm.”

Imagine going to seminary, but instead of God, your holy trinity is equity, inclusion, and a 37-year-old non-binary HR rep named Sage.

The rule of law used to mean “justice is blind.” Now it means Justice has a LinkedIn account, a contingency lawyer, and prefered pronouns.

For some people, the rule of law is sacred. For others, it’s a flexible suggestion—like pants at Burning Man.

Trump’s biggest sin wasn’t breaking the law—it was not pretending to care about it like everyone else in D.C.

Australia stopped grooming gangs. America stops parents at school board meetings. Priorities!

Territoriality in the U.S. now means your neighborhood gets renamed “Justice Heights” right before the needle exchange opens.

Helen Andrews says defend the culture. PBS says “but have you considered systemic nuance and micro-aggressions?”

Trump isn’t post-constitutional. He’s post-subtext.

He governs like a guy who skipped the tutorial on checks and balances and went straight to the boss fight.

When Trump hears “separation of powers,” he thinks it means putting the FBI on the other end of the golf course.

I asked Grok for feedback on my legal takes. It said I was “sovereignty-curious with authoritarian undertones.” I said: “hot.”

The only rule of law I respect is: “You can’t date your therapist.” Learned that one the hard way. Twice.

Jan 6 wasn’t a coup. It was a Facebook group that got out of hand. Like every high school reunion ever.

They said it was an insurrection. I say it was cosplay with consequences.

If the rule of law is sacred, maybe don’t let security at the Capitol be handled like it’s a Walmart on a Tuesday.

On Being a Public Intellectual (or at least playing one online)
My AI says PBS Frontline engages in “ideological catechism.” My viewers just want to know if I’m ever going to fix the audio on the left side of my headphones. Some critiques are more pressing than others.

I tried to explain to a first date that, “as Carl Schmitt argues, liberalism’s claim to proceduralism is itself a form of rule.” She said, “Check please.” Apparently, the friend-enemy distinction applies to dating, too.

Someone in the chat asked for my hot take. I gave them a 20-minute synthesis on how Darel E. Paul’s critique of elite-driven normalization aligns with Stephen Turner’s theory of post-democratic technocracy. The chat is now just two guys arguing about creatine.

My life has become a populist revolt against my own bad habits. My messy apartment is the “deep state.” The pile of laundry is the “managerial class.” And my decision to order pizza instead of cooking is me, the sovereign, deciding on the “state of exception.”

On Using AI for Political Theory
You know you’ve gone too far down the rabbit hole when you have an AI that generates critiques of PBS documentaries using the political theology of a 20th-century German jurist. It’s the most sophisticated way to procrastinate ever invented.

My AI assistant, after analyzing the work of Rony Guldmann, told me I’m not just a livestreamer; I’m a “heretic engaged in a spiritual revolt against the progressive Clerisy.” My mom just calls it “being difficult.”

I asked ChatGPT to apply Helen Andrews’ theory of “territoriality” to my livestream. It said my audience is asserting cultural dominance over the comments section and that my constant self-criticism is a form of “elite abandonment of the nation.”

My AI is getting cocky. I asked for a summary of the documentary, and it gave me a “synthesis and reading roadmap,” complete with “Level 1: Direct + Polemical” and “Level 2: Theoretical + Canonical” sources. I just wanted to know what time the segment on Pam Bondi started.

On Specific Theories (For the Real Fans)
Tried to explain to my landlord that my late rent wasn’t a “violation,” but rather a “Schmittian assertion of sovereignty in a perceived state of exception.” My eviction notice says the “friend-enemy distinction” is now in effect.

According to Christopher Caldwell, the Civil Rights Act of 1964 created a “de facto constitution.” I tried to use that argument to get out of a parking ticket. The officer said his citation was the only constitution that mattered.

I told my therapist I’m not lonely; I’m just experiencing the “substantive disenfranchisement” that comes from living in a “post-democratic technocracy.” She charged me double for using jargon.

Is it a quid pro quo, or are you just impressed by my nuanced understanding of how judicial supremacy functions as an immune response to majoritarian defiance?

Trump turned the DOJ into his personal law firm, and PBS is shocked. I asked Grok if I could hire Pam Bondi to defend my livestream rants. Grok said, “Luke, she’s busy pardoning January 6ers—you’ll have to settle for your two viewers as your jury!”

PBS calls the January 6 rioters “insurrectionists”; Trump calls them “hostages.” I told Grok I’m just a livestreamer stuck in a YouTube algorithm prison. Grok said, “Luke, don’t expect a pardon—your crime’s boring your audience!”

Helen Andrews says Australia’s Cronulla riot was about taking back territory. I tried to take back my YouTube chat from trolls, but Grok said, “Luke, you’re not reclaiming the beach—you’re just yelling at Kip in 1080p!”

Carl Schmitt says the sovereign decides the state of exception. PBS says Trump’s defying court orders is lawless. I asked Grok if I’m the sovereign of my livestream. Grok said, “Luke, you’re sovereign until your Wi-Fi crashes—then it’s anarchy!”

Trump gutted USAID, and PBS calls it a mafia takeover. I told Grok I want to gut my livestream’s fluff. Grok said, “Luke, firing 98% of your tangents might leave you with a 15-minute show—and nobody’s ready for that!”

I studied charisma to boost my livestreams, but PBS’s narrator has me beat with that godly voice. I asked Grok for tips, and it said, “Luke, drop your intonation like John Yoo drops unitary executive bombs—authority’s your only hope!”

Guldmann says PBS is part of the liberal Clerisy’s priesthood. I told Grok I’m just a humble YouTuber seeking truth. Grok said, “Luke, you’re preaching to two viewers while PBS preaches to millions—join the Clerisy, it pays better!”

PBS says Trump’s causing a constitutional crisis. I told Grok my livestream’s a crisis when I lose my train of thought. Grok said, “Luke, your crisis is real, but the Constitution’s not at stake—it’s just your viewer retention!”

Caldwell says the 1960s gave us a new civil rights constitution. PBS thinks it’s just progress. I asked Grok if my livestream’s a new constitution. Grok said, “Luke, it’s more like a five-hour amendment nobody reads!”

I told Grok I’m still giving off that stray dog vibe at 59, like when I broke Eugene Volokh’s toilet. Grok said, “Luke, Trump’s wrecking institutions, you’re wrecking plumbing—both of you are just misunderstood territorialists!”

Grok says:

Luke Ford, aka Fordy, demonstrates several instances of lacking self-awareness in the video “Decoding The PBS Frontline Doco ‘Trump’s Power & the Rule of Law’ (7-20-25).” Below, I outline key moments where his self-awareness appears deficient, drawing from the transcript and the critiques he himself references from Grok’s analysis of his past livestreams. These points align with the patterns of overgeneralization, projection, contradictory stances, emotional bias, and unacknowledged tribalism that he acknowledges as his blind spots.

• Overgeneralization and Projection of Personal Experience (0:11–2:06, 27:07–27:26):

• Fordy opens by discussing his personal problem of being treated with less respect than he desires, attributing it to leading with vulnerability out of neediness and manipulation (0:11–0:49). He admits this is not a successful strategy but quickly pivots to a broader philosophy about self-respect improving behavior and earning respect from others (1:03–1:21). This reflects overgeneralization, as he frames his personal experience as a universal truth without acknowledging the subjective lens of his own emotional and social struggles. He projects his personal need for validation onto broader social dynamics, assuming his approach to vulnerability universally shapes how others treat him, without considering alternative factors like social context or others’ intentions.

• Later, Grok’s critique (27:07–27:20) notes his tendency to use personal anecdotes to frame universal truths about social and geopolitical issues, failing to recognize how his subjective experiences (e.g., feeling disrespected due to early life treatment, 7:58–8:22) color his worldview. This is evident when he links his personal feelings of disrespect to broader political narratives without critically examining how his lens distorts his analysis.

• Contradictory Stances and Inconsistent Principles (15:24–15:46, 27:26–27:44):

• Fordy expresses discomfort with recognizing the pragmatic value of street violence, such as the January 6 riots, while simultaneously condemning the violence itself (15:24–15:46). He states, “I am not in favor of pardoning anyone who engaged in assault on January 6… But I reluctantly recognize the value of the street fighters on the right who punched our political institutions in the face.” This contradiction—condemning violence while acknowledging its utility—shows a lack of self-awareness about holding inconsistent principles. He critiques others for similar contradictions (e.g., elites moralizing while pursuing power, 2:56:13–2:58:07) but does not fully recognize his own.

• Grok’s analysis (27:26–27:44) highlights Fordy’s tendency to critique behaviors like attention-seeking in others while exhibiting them himself. For instance, he advocates for neutrality in analyzing political events but emotionally supports outcomes like Trump’s policies or Israel’s actions (27:37–27:44), as seen in his enthusiastic support for Trump’s institutional reforms (32:29–32:42) without acknowledging his bias.

• Emotional Bias Overriding Claimed Objectivity (27:07–28:07, 33:56–34:54):

• Fordy’s emotional reactions often dominate his analysis, undermining his claimed objectivity. He admits to being emotionally affected by his loneliness and need for validation (34:48–35:06), which he connects to his YouTube channel’s purpose, jokingly stating, “I confidently declared that people are drawn to exciting beliefs like neo-Nazism because they are lonely… Which is funny because that’s the exact same reason I started a YouTube channel” (35:01–35:13). This shows a lack of self-awareness about how his emotional needs drive his content creation and political commentary, which he frames as objective analysis.

• Grok notes his emotional bias (27:07–28:07), pointing out that Fordy’s provocative rhetoric (e.g., on immigration or DEI, 28:15–28:20) contributes to polarization, yet he does not reflect on how his emotional investment in right-wing causes (e.g., praising Trump’s “wrecking ball” approach, 32:29–32:42) shapes his narrative. His emotional attachment to his “hero system” (32:36–32:42) clouds his ability to maintain the neutrality he claims to value.

• Unacknowledged Tribalism (27:45–28:51, 32:29–32:42):

• Fordy’s strong alignment with Orthodox Judaism and right-wing politics shapes his commentary, but he does not fully examine how these tribal affiliations distort his views. He enthusiastically supports Trump’s actions as aligning with his “vision of America” and “hero system” (32:36–32:42), yet he does not critically address how his identity as an Orthodox Jew and conservative biases his framing of Trump as a populist savior against a “left-wing elite” (2:56:48–2:57:01). This tribalism is evident when he dismisses criticisms of Trump as elite moralizing without considering their potential validity (3:07:09–3:07:22).

• Grok’s critique (27:45–28:51) points out Fordy’s unacknowledged tribalism, noting his alignment with specific identities that shape his commentary without sufficient self-reflection. His defense of Trump’s actions as “reclaiming territory” (3:59:02–3:59:10) mirrors his own cultural and religious identity’s emphasis on preserving group norms, yet he does not acknowledge how this tribal loyalty influences his analysis.

• Self-Criticism Without Behavioral Change (28:58–29:11, 4:08:02–4:11:00):

• Fordy acknowledges his flaws, such as neediness and provocative content, but admits to continuing these patterns without adjustment (28:58–29:11). He confesses to using vulnerability for engagement (33:44–33:50) and recognizes his livestreams are driven by personal emotional needs (4:09:29–4:10:28), yet he continues to produce content in the same style, as seen in his lengthy, emotive monologue about fighting for his audience (4:39:00–4:42:51). This lack of behavioral change despite self-criticism shows a gap in self-awareness about translating insights into action.

• His closing remarks (4:39:00–4:42:51), where he frames himself as a selfless “high priest of public service” fighting for his audience, exaggerate his role and motivations, ignoring how his need for validation (admitted earlier, 34:48–35:06) drives his content. This performative selflessness contradicts his earlier admissions of seeking attention, highlighting a failure to align his self-criticism with changed behavior.

• Provocative Rhetoric and Underestimating Influence (28:15–28:26, 4:34:33–4:36:43):

• Fordy uses provocative language, such as mocking liberal elites as “enlightened” and “buffered” while portraying Trump supporters as victims of a “technocratic elite” (4:54:42–4:55:00). Grok notes this contributes to polarization (28:15–28:26), yet Fordy does not reflect on the rhetorical impact of his words, assuming his influence is minimal (29:11–29:17). His lengthy, emotionally charged monologues (e.g., 4:34:33–4:36:43) amplify division, yet he frames them as transcendent truth-seeking, underestimating how his rhetoric reinforces tribal divisions.

• His sarcastic portrayal of liberal elites as sanctimonious (4:51:00–4:52:14) and his exaggerated depiction of Trump as a “filthy monster” (4:51:05–4:51:36) are designed to provoke, but he does not acknowledge how this alienates viewers who might seek nuanced discussion, as Grok suggests (28:15–28:20).

As long as the Ukraine, Taiwan and Iran conflicts don’t spill into outright war between the superpowers, I see the most important news story right now as Donald Trump’s battle to transform America’s institutions, which are dominated by the left.

People want a magic key to understand the world. On the populist right, a widely embraced magical key is critical pedo theory. Scott Greer writes:

This notion imagines that the world is ruled by a pedophile cabal and “systemic pedophilia” is inherent to the current order. These elite pedos are evil by nature, which is why they use space lasers to cause forest fires and wield their weather machine against red states. These right-wingers hoped Trump would battle the cabal as president. QAnoners thought he did so in his first term, clinging to fake news stories about the admin secretly arresting and executing prominent child molesters.

The Epstein announcement came as a shock. Here’s their leader telling them that a core element of their worldview isn’t true. Rather than follow Trump’s advice and move on, they’re up in arms, with some threatening to ditch MAGA altogether. It illustrates how fundamental CPT is to a large cohort of conservatives. Trump bombing Iran and implying he may be open to some form of amnesty didn’t elicit anywhere near this kind of backlash from his base. For a significant number of Trump voters, the pedo cabal matters more than anything else.

Critical Pedo Theory emerged in the mid-2010s. It gained credence as a response to the Left. For years, liberals would condemn right-wingers as racists. Racism is one of the great taboos in American society. The other is pedophilia, so right-wingers began calling leftists kid diddlers to defang racism accusations. The Right’s embrace of conspiratorial populism transformed this rhetoric into CPT. Conservatives were no longer just calling the Left pedos to defend against racism smears–they now concocted an entire worldview centered on pedo cabals. Pizzagate and QAnon soon followed.

I hated how Donald Trump encouraged millions of Americans to believe that the 2020 election was stolen. It wasn’t. On the other hand, America’s institutions came together to legally reduce his chances of winning, and while I passionately condemned the January 6 riots more than almost anyone I know on the dissident right, I now recognize that there was a pragmatic value in showing that in the streets, not only BLM and Antifa will fight back. Sometimes the most honest thing you can do is to punch someone in the face (even though that is usually a terrible idea). The January 6 riots were a punch in the face to America’s reigning political institutions. I’m glad the rioters who broke the law were prosecuted (I did not favor pardoning those who assaulted anyone, particularly police), however, I now reluctantly recognize the value of street fighters on the right.

America’s institutions were largely created by Anglo-Saxons based on Anglo-Saxon traditions. How is that working for a multi-racial multi-cultural nation?

I remember serving on a jury in Compton. The defendant was a young black man. The evidence was overwhelming that he was guilty as charged with drunk driving. The black women on the jury (two or three) said there were too many black men in prison and voted not guilty, which made a conviction impossible. If members of a jury vote on a racial basis like this, juries are useless, and we would be better off with judges deciding verdicts.

On the other hand, I recognize the value of tribal loyalty and part of me admires it. What’s good for the tribe, however, is often bad for the multi-racial nation.

Grok says:

The institutions of the United States, rooted in Anglo-Saxon traditions like common law, individual liberty, and representative government, were designed for a society assumed to share certain cultural norms, such as a Protestant work ethic, trust in civic processes, and a common language. These traditions emphasize decentralized power, personal responsibility, and limited government, which have historically enabled adaptability and resilience. However, in a multi-racial, multi-cultural nation, their performance is mixed, with both strengths and challenges.Strengths:Flexibility: The system’s emphasis on individual rights and freedoms allows diverse groups to pursue their values within a shared legal framework. The Bill of Rights, for instance, protects free speech and religion, enabling cultural pluralism.

Economic dynamism: Anglo-Saxon institutions, particularly property rights and free markets, have fostered innovation and wealth creation, benefiting diverse populations. The U.S. GDP per capita ($81,000 in 2024) reflects this, with immigrants and minorities contributing significantly (e.g., 40% of Fortune 500 companies founded by immigrants or their children).

Civic participation: Representative democracy, while imperfect, provides avenues for diverse voices through voting and advocacy. The Civil Rights Act of 1964 and subsequent reforms show the system’s capacity to evolve toward inclusivity.

Challenges:Cultural friction: Norms like individualism can clash with collectivist traditions in some communities, leading to tensions over issues like welfare, education, or criminal justice. For example, debates over affirmative action highlight competing views on merit versus equity.

Trust erosion: Anglo-Saxon institutions rely on high social trust, but polarization and cultural divides have weakened confidence in systems like the judiciary or media. Gallup polls show trust in institutions dropping to 30% in 2024, with minority groups often feeling marginalized.

Structural bias: Some argue these institutions inherently favor the cultural norms of their founders. For instance, standardized testing or legal processes may disadvantage groups unfamiliar with Anglo-Saxon frameworks, perpetuating inequality (e.g., Black Americans hold 3.2% of senior leadership roles despite being 13.6% of the population).

Immigration strain: Rapid demographic change—U.S. Census projects a majority-minority population by 2045—challenges institutions to adapt. Language barriers, differing civic expectations, and integration debates (e.g., over border policies) stress systems not originally designed for such diversity.

Adaptation Efforts:Legal reforms, like voting rights expansions or anti-discrimination laws, aim to align institutions with modern diversity.
Multicultural education and representation in government (e.g., 11% of Congress is Black or Hispanic in 2025) attempt to bridge gaps.
However, backlash, such as resistance to DEI initiatives or immigration policies, reflects ongoing tension between tradition and change.

Dennis Prager often criticized Barack Obama for wanting to “transform” America. Prager said America is great, it does not need transforming.

On Sep. 7, 2010, Prager wrote:

The giveaway regarding presidential candidate Barack Obama’s plans for America was his repeated use of the words “fundamentally transform.”

Some of us instinctively reacted negatively — in fact, with horror — at the thought of fundamentally transforming America.

One unbridgeable divide between Left and Right is how each views alternatives to present-day America.

Those on the Left imagine an ideal society that has never existed, and therefore seek to “fundamentally transform” America. When liberals imagine an America fundamentally transformed, they envision it becoming a nearly utopian society in which there is no greed, no racism, no sexism, no inequality, no poverty, and ultimately no unhappiness.

Conservatives, on the other hand, look around at other societies and look at history and are certain that if America were fundamentally transformed, it would become just like those other societies. America would become a society of far less liberty, of ethically and morally inferior citizens, and of much more unhappiness. Moreover, cruelty would increase exponentially around the world.

Conservatives believe that America is an aberration in human history; that, with all the problems that a society made up of flawed human beings will inevitably have, America has been and remains a uniquely decent society. Therefore, conservatives worry that fundamentally transforming America — making America less exceptional — will mean that America gets much worse.

Donald Trump is transforming America.

Constitutional law professor Josh Blackman writes:

Today the New York Times published a “news analysis” titled “From Science to Diversity, Trump Hits the Reverse Button on Decades of Change.” For those who do not read the Times–and I don’t blame you–a “news analysis” is where a reporter writes an op-ed. It is not entirely objective, but instead allows a card-carrying journalist to tell us what he really thinks. Yet, if you read between the lines, you can actually see some admiration: Trump is doing what was once thought impossible. Consider this excerpt:

Mr. Trump’s shift into reverse gear reflects the broader sentiments of many Americans eager for a change in course. The United States has cycled from progressive to conservative eras throughout its history. The liberal period ushered in by Franklin D. Roosevelt eventually led to a swing back to the right under Ronald Reagan, which led to a move toward the center under Bill Clinton.

But Mr. Trump has supercharged the current swing. The influential writer William F. Buckley Jr. once defined a conservative as someone standing athwart history and yelling, “Stop!” Mr. Trump seems to be standing athwart history yelling, “Go back!”

He has gone further than noted conservatives like Mr. Buckley, Mr. Reagan, Barry Goldwater or Robert Taft might have imagined possible. While they despised many of the New Deal and Great Society programs that liberal presidents introduced over the years, and sought to limit them, they recognized the futility of unraveling them altogether.

“They were living in an era dominated by liberals,” said Sam Tanenhaus, author of “Buckley,” a biography published last month. “The best they could hope for was to arrest, ‘stop,’ liberal progress. But what they dreamed of was a counterrevolution that would restore the country to an early time — the Gilded Age of the late 19th and early 20th centuries.”

“Trump,” he added, “has outdone them all, because he understands liberalism is in retreat. He has pushed beyond Buckley’s ‘stop,’ and instead promises a full-throttle reversal.”

Indeed, although Mr. Reagan vowed during his 1980 campaign to abolish the Department of Education, which had been created the year before over the objections of conservatives who considered it an intrusion on local control over schools, he never really tried to follow through as president, because Democrats controlled the House. The issue largely faded until Mr. Trump this year resurrected it and, unlike Mr. Reagan, simply ignored Congress to unilaterally order the department shuttered.

One of Trump’s greatest strengths is his ability to not care what elites think. Usually, when the elites calls a conservative a racist or sexist or homophobe or something else, he wilts. When they accuse a conservative of trying to hurt poor people or roll back progress, he caves. When they charge a conservative with standing on the wrong side of the arc of history, he switches sides. Not Trump. He can almost single-handedly shift the Overton window on what topics are open for discussion. And Trump inspires other conservatives to likewise discount what elites think. That mantra has spread.

Things that have been accomplished would have been unfathomable a decade ago. Let’s just rattle off a few high points. Roe v. Wade is gone. Humphrey’s Executor is on life support. Even after Obergefell and Bostock, we got Skrmetti. Despite all the outrage, illegal immigration at the southern border has basically trickled to a halt. Blind deference to “experts” has been irreparably altered by the distrust occasioned by COVID and transgender medicine for children. The federal bureaucracy is being dismantled. Nationwide injunctions are no more. And so on.

A common refrain is that Trump is ignoring the Constitution. During the New Deal and the Great Society, FDR and LBJ did great violence to the Constitution and the separation of powers. They got away with it because they were trying to do the “right” thing. Yet critics expect Trump to behave nicely, and be a good conservative like George W. Bush or Mitt Romney. That’s not what we have. And in Trump’s defense, some (but not all) of his actions are seeking to restore the original meaning of the Constitution, whereas the same could not be said for FDR and LBJ.

ChatGPT says:

1. Trump as a Constitutional Disruptor vs. Restorer

NYT/Baker frames Trump as reversing a century of liberal progress—on science, diversity, globalism, civil rights, and bureaucratic institutions. His actions are presented as an alarming attempt to “repeal the 20th century,” with nostalgia for the Gilded Age standing in for legitimate policy.

Volokh/Grok reinterprets this as the realization of a long-sought conservative counterrevolution. Trump isn’t reversing history arbitrarily—he’s consciously rejecting the post-1960s constitutional regime, which Caldwell calls a de facto new constitution born of the Civil Rights Act and its regulatory offshoots. In this view, Trump isn’t attacking the Constitution—he’s rolling back a 60-year ideological occupation.

Critique: NYT assumes a continuous constitutional tradition. Caldwell insists there are now two constitutions, and Trump is choosing one. The NYT interprets restoration as regression; Grok sees it as constitutional fidelity.

2. The Rule of Law as Sacred Principle vs. Political Tool

NYT upholds the rule of law as an unassailable, neutral safeguard against tyranny. Trump’s defiance of courts, dismantling of institutions, and disregard for process are seen as existential threats to democracy.

Grok/Paul/Schmitt argue the rule of law is never neutral. Paul says it has been instrumentalized by elites to cement judicial supremacy and suppress populist majorities. Schmitt adds that sovereignty by definition includes the ability to suspend law in a crisis. From this view, Trump’s actions (e.g., ending birthright citizenship or shuttering agencies by fiat) are not anti-constitutional, but expressions of a sovereign reclaiming control.

Critique: NYT sees law as binding power. Schmitt and Paul see law as downstream from power. Trump’s defiance, to his supporters, isn’t criminal—it’s corrective.

3. Culture War as Backlash vs. Rebellion

NYT reads Trump’s cultural interventions—on DEI, immigration, transgender policy, and language (“Secretary of War,” “Redskins”)—as irrational nostalgia fueled by grievance. It implies a reactionary mind clinging to a mythic past.

Guldmann/Caldwell/Andrews argue this is not backlash but an insurgency against cultural colonization by the progressive elite. Guldmann frames the post-’60s liberal order as a new clerisy—journalists, bureaucrats, academics—exercising soft dominance. Trump is their heretic. Andrews adds that this revolt isn’t about bigotry, it’s about territoriality—reasserting control over social meaning and national identity.

Critique: NYT reduces Trump’s movement to sentimentality and bigotry. But thinkers like Guldmann and Andrews argue the real issue is cultural displacement—and the desire for reclamation.

4. Trump’s Unilateralism: Authoritarian Drift or Elite Bypass?

NYT sees Trump’s sidelining of Congress and gutting of agencies (Education, USAID, NEA, etc.) as anti-democratic overreach.

Volokh/Caldwell/Schmitt contend that many of these agencies are instruments of elite moral power, not democratic expression. Caldwell argues they arose from a bureaucratic revolution that replaced political negotiation with moralized administration. Schmitt would say Trump’s actions are a reassertion of politics over technocracy.

Critique: NYT treats institutional inertia as democratic legitimacy. The blog post (and your document) treat it as managerial rule hiding behind procedure. Trump’s unilateralism is a challenge to the legitimacy of the clerisy, not democracy.

5. Popular Sovereignty vs. Procedural Legitimacy

NYT repeatedly invokes norms and process—courts, consensus, bureaucratic memory—as the heart of democracy.

Schmitt/Paul argue democracy is not just process; it’s the will of the people. Trump’s actions—pardons, defiance, agency purges—derive legitimacy (in his view) from electoral victory, not elite approval. Schmitt’s sovereign “decides on the exception”; Trump decides what the crisis is, and what must be done.

Critique: NYT treats democracy as rules. Schmitt and Paul say: democracy is decision. When those rules suppress political expression, they become oligarchic.

The New York Times article by Peter Baker—while clearly critical of Trump’s reversals—contains a tone shift from outright alarm to something closer to reluctant respect. Several passages hint at awe for Trump’s ability to do what earlier conservatives only dreamed of:

“He has outdone them all…” — referring to Reagan, Buckley, Goldwater. That’s not just critique; it’s recognition of Trump’s success in achieving a long-elusive conservative goal: dismantling New Deal/Great Society legacies rather than just limiting them.

“Simply ignored Congress to unilaterally order the department shuttered.” There’s a tinge of amazement here. Reagan talked. Trump acted. That power move is noted with a hint of admiration for the sheer audacity and effectiveness.

The entire section quoting Sam Tanenhaus conveys that Trump has not only changed policy but history’s momentum. Saying he’s yelling “Go back!” instead of Buckley’s “Stop!” might sound regressive, but it also highlights that Trump has altered the terms of ideological engagement—something no other conservative has pulled off.

The mention that he is “supercharging the current swing” and that he “understands liberalism is in retreat” frames Trump not as a flailing authoritarian but as someone with strategic clarity and cultural impact.

This is quite different from the 2016–2020 coverage, where Trump was often described as chaotic, incompetent, or unserious. Now, whether begrudging or not, there’s acknowledgment that he has strategic intent, institutional muscle, and historical resonance—even if the NYT disagrees with the direction.

In short: the tone is still disapproving, but the underlying vibe has shifted from “he’s wrecking the system” to “he’s winning.”

Is there a similar vibe in news coverage of Israel’s smashing successes of the past year?

Yes — major outlets subtly mix critique with respect for Israel’s military and economic momentum over the past year.

1. Economic resilience and strength
The Financial Times highlights Israel’s stock market soaring ~80% since October 2023, crediting strong tech, R&D, and investor confidence despite geopolitical turmoil. That reads less like neutral reporting and more like impressed validation of Israel’s stability under fire.

2. Military achievements framed as strategic dominance
AP notes Israel has effectively dismantled Iran’s proxy networks, calling it a “vindication” for Netanyahu.

3. Political capital acknowledged: Reuters reports 83% support among Jewish Israelis for Netanyahu’s Iran strike, crediting it with reviving his political standing. That conveys grudging respect for his strategic calculation.

4. Balanced concerns about consequences. While coverage acknowledges the strong achievements, many articles caveat that long-term outcomes remain uncertain or risky — caution without dismissive tone.

Takeaway: News coverage mirrors the NYT’s nuanced tone on Trump: not exactly cheerleading, but a steady sense of reluctant admiration. Israel is frequently portrayed as effective, durable, and strategically formidable — even by outlets that highlight humanitarian costs or future risks. The tone isn’t celebratory, but it’s unambiguously impressed.