September 1, 2025 Why The Supreme Court Might Uphold Trump’s Tariffs Luke Ford No sacred cows.

Why The Supreme Court Might Uphold Trump’s Tariffs

Posted on September 1, 2025 by Luke Ford

Trump tariffs and trade deals might be good for America. On the face of the law, however, Trump’s tariffs appear illegal just like Obamacare.

ChatGPT says:

Chief Justice Roberts’ approach in NFIB v. Sebelius (2012) shows how the Court sometimes upholds a law even if the majority of justices are skeptical of it under their preferred doctrinal reading. Roberts rejected the Commerce Clause justification for the Affordable Care Act’s individual mandate but ultimately upheld it as a valid exercise of Congress’s taxing power. That move was widely seen as institutional — preserving the Court’s legitimacy in the face of a landmark statute.
If the Court takes up the legality of Trump’s tariffs, a similar dynamic could matter. Tariff authority comes from statutes like Section 232 of the Trade Expansion Act and Section 301 of the Trade Act of 1974. Critics argue Trump stretched those provisions beyond their intended scope. The Court could technically find those actions outside the statutory grant, but it might also hesitate to strike them down because trade and national security are areas where courts traditionally defer heavily to the executive branch. Just as Roberts found a legal “hook” (the taxing power) to avoid dismantling Obamacare, the Court could look for a statutory or constitutional basis to uphold tariffs even if they strain the plain reading — in part to avoid inserting the judiciary into politically and economically explosive trade disputes.

When an American president declares he has emergency powers, he usually gets his way.

Historically, when a president invokes “emergency powers,” courts and Congress have usually given a very wide berth. There are a few reasons:
Statutory backdrop: Congress has passed broad laws (like the National Emergencies Act, International Emergency Economic Powers Act, and the Defense Production Act) that hand presidents sweeping discretion once an “emergency” is declared. The statutory text often leaves little room for courts to second-guess.
Judicial deference: Courts tend to defer to the executive on national security, foreign policy, and economic sanctions. Even when they’re skeptical, they usually stop short of drawing bright lines that limit the president.
Institutional incentives: Both courts and Congress often avoid being seen as obstructing the president during a “crisis,” because if things go badly, they don’t want the blame.
The few big exceptions are when a president clearly steps outside statutory or constitutional authority—think Youngstown Sheet & Tube v. Sawyer (1952), where the Supreme Court blocked Truman’s steel mill seizure during the Korean War. But that’s the outlier. The norm is that once a president says “emergency,” unless it’s egregiously outside the law, the move sticks.

In his 1948 book, Constitutional Dictatorship: Crisis Government in the Modern Democracies, Clinton Rossiter wrote:

* In Roosevelt the voters had chosen the most crisis-minded public figure in American history, a man who thrived on crises, emergencies, dangers, perils, and panics. His long tenure of office was a continuous emergency, and not just for the Republicans. Nor did he fail to admit or take advantage of the fact. “I love a good fight.” Like Murat he rode ever toward the sound of the guns. He was preeminently “a man proposing, not prudence, but the deliberate assumption of risks in the hope of great gains.” The resort to extraordinary power in extraordinary circumstances was instinct for this extraordinary man, and his character is not to be overlooked in any estimate of the crisis government of 1933.
* The President’s sources of emergency authority were, of course, his own broad reading of his constitutional war powers and the immense delegations of discretionary power which he already enjoyed or which Congress gave him for the duration of the crisis.
* The proclamations of emergency of 1939 and 1941 were in keeping with the best conceptions of the President’s constitutional authority and even more in keeping with the love of crisis which Mr. Roosevelt was never bashful in exhibiting. The idea of a “limited” national emergency as declared in September 1939 was the President’s own; it is completely unrecognized by statute or constitutional practice. Under this proclamation he was able to make use of various emergency statutes, particularly those allowing him to expand the peacetime army and navy, without getting the public too excited and inviting the accusation that he was trying to get the nation into war.

ChatGPT says:

Yes — those Rossiter passages line up almost eerily with Trump’s style.
Crisis orientation: Like FDR, Trump thrives on crisis talk. Rossiter’s point that Roosevelt loved emergencies because they gave him room to act could just as easily describe Trump. Whether it was immigration, trade, or COVID, Trump framed situations as existential and used the “emergency” lens to justify unilateral action.
Broad readings of authority: Roosevelt stretched his war powers and leaned on congressional delegations. Trump did the same — think of his border wall funding under a “national emergency,” or his tariffs under statutes meant for narrow trade or security threats. Both presidents pushed beyond the plain text and relied on vague statutes as springboards.
Inventing categories of emergency: Rossiter notes FDR’s “limited emergency” in 1939 had no basis in law but let him act without alarming the public. Trump did something similar when he blended economic and security emergencies, treating trade deficits or immigration surges as if they were wartime crises.
Personality matters: Rossiter stresses that FDR’s character — crisis-loving, risk-embracing — shaped the government’s resort to extraordinary powers. That’s true for Trump too: he wasn’t shy about saying he had “absolute” power, and he treated every dispute as a fight to be escalated.
The key difference: Roosevelt had both broad congressional backing and a long wartime context that made his emergency footing sustainable. Trump leaned more on unilateral assertions, with less institutional support — which made his use of emergency powers more legally vulnerable but still often effective in practice, because courts and Congress hesitate to check presidents once “emergency” is invoked.

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WP: Gaza postwar plan envisions ‘voluntary’ relocation of entire population

Posted on September 1, 2025 by Luke Ford

Who’s going to take advantage of this untapped human capital that might flow out of Gaza?

Population transfer used to be a normal event after a war.

ChatGPT says:

You’re right that for centuries, population transfers were treated as normal spoils of war. The shift came in the mid-20th century, driven by a few big changes:
1. World War II and the Holocaust
The scale of forced removals, ethnic cleansing, and genocide during the war discredited population transfer as a “solution.” The Allies themselves sanctioned transfers (e.g., Germans expelled from Eastern Europe), but the humanitarian disaster that followed—millions dead or displaced—cemented the idea that such measures were unacceptable going forward.
2. Rise of international law and human rights norms
After 1945, new legal frameworks (UN Charter, Geneva Conventions, later human rights treaties) explicitly prohibited forced displacement of civilian populations. “Ethnic cleansing” became synonymous with war crimes and crimes against humanity.
3. The Cold War and decolonization
Newly independent states wanted sovereignty and protection from forced annexations or removals. Norms shifted toward the sanctity of borders and populations as they existed at independence, even if lines were messy.
4. Media and humanitarian visibility
By the late 20th century, mass displacement was no longer hidden. Television, then the internet, made refugee flows and atrocities highly visible, fueling public outrage and pressuring governments to condemn transfers rather than endorse them.
5. Precedent of peace processes
In conflicts from the Balkans to the Middle East, population transfer proposals reappeared, but were rejected as incompatible with modern diplomacy. The official norm became: find power-sharing, autonomy, or partition solutions, but don’t openly call for moving whole peoples.
So: the practice itself didn’t vanish—millions were displaced in India–Pakistan partition, Yugoslavia, Darfur, Syria—but the moral and legal framing changed. What was once “a practical outcome of war” became “a crime against humanity.”

Out of everything unconventional Trump has said in his second term, advocating for the population transfer of Gazans is the most shocking. What are the advantages for Trump in playing the shock jock who is also the most powerful man in the world?

Grok says:

Trump’s proposal to relocate Gazans is certainly one of the most polarizing and unconventional ideas he’s floated in his second term, given its implications for international law, regional stability, and human rights. The plan, which involves transferring Gaza’s population—estimated at around 2 million—to countries like Egypt, Jordan, or even Libya, has drawn sharp criticism for resembling forced displacement, often equated to ethnic cleansing by opponents. It’s a radical departure from decades of U.S. policy supporting a two-state solution and has been rejected by Arab allies, the UN, and Palestinian leaders, who see it as a violation of the Fourth Geneva Convention. The idea’s boldness, tied to Trump’s vision of redeveloping Gaza into a “Riviera of the Middle East,” makes it stand out for its audacity and potential to inflame tensions.That said, whether it’s the most shocking depends on context. Trump’s second term has been marked by other provocative statements—like suggesting U.S. control of the Panama Canal, annexing Greenland, or making Canada a U.S. state. These ideas, while less likely to involve immediate humanitarian fallout, are also wildly unconventional and challenge global norms. The Gaza proposal is arguably more shocking due to its direct impact on a volatile conflict and the sheer scale of human displacement involved, which could destabilize the Middle East further. For comparison, his Panama or Canada remarks, while outlandish, are more speculative and less immediately actionable.
If we weigh “shocking” by potential consequences, the Gaza plan takes the cake because it’s not just rhetoric—it’s a policy that, if pursued, could lead to war crimes charges, regional unrest, and a break with allies like Egypt and Jordan. But if we’re talking pure audacity or break from reality, some of his other proposals might compete for their sheer absurdity. What makes the Gaza idea hit harder is its real-world stakes—displacing millions in an already war-torn region is a tangible, high-risk gamble that’s hard to top for impact.
Donald Trump’s strategy of making shocking statements during his second term as the 47th President of the United States offers several strategic advantages, both politically and in terms of shaping public discourse. While his provocative rhetoric—such as advocating for the population transfer of Gazans, suggesting U.S. control of the Panama Canal, or proposing Canada as a U.S. state—often sparks controversy, it serves specific purposes that align with his political style and objectives. Below are the key advantages, grounded in his approach and the broader context of his presidency:
Dominating the Media Cycle
Trump’s shocking statements ensure he remains the center of public and media attention. His unconventional rhetoric, honed during his first term and amplified in his second, captures headlines and drives conversations across platforms like X, traditional news outlets, and social media. This constant visibility keeps his agenda in the spotlight, overshadowing opponents and critics. For example, his Gaza population transfer proposal, despite its controversy, shifts focus to his vision for the Middle East, forcing others to react to his framing rather than setting their own narrative. This aligns with his history of using bold statements to command attention, as seen in his 2016 campaign when he defied norms to dominate public discourse.
Energizing His Base
Trump’s provocative rhetoric resonates strongly with his core supporters, particularly those who feel alienated by establishment politics or “coastal elites.” By proposing ideas like mass deportation or challenging international norms (e.g., Panama Canal or Gaza), he projects strength, decisiveness, and a willingness to upend the status quo, qualities his base admires. His “America First” messaging, evident in statements about taking control of foreign assets or reshaping global alliances, reinforces his image as a leader prioritizing U.S. interests. This galvanizes his supporters, as seen in his 2024 election victory, where he outperformed his 2020 results by appealing to voters frustrated with conventional governance.
Shifting the Overton Window
By introducing radical ideas, Trump expands the range of acceptable political discourse, making less extreme policies seem more reasonable by comparison. For instance, his Gaza population transfer proposal, while widely criticized, may make other immigration or foreign policy measures—like stricter border controls or reduced aid to certain regions—appear more moderate. This tactic, rooted in his “shock and awe” approach, allows him to test bold ideas while normalizing aspects of his agenda, such as mass deportations or tariffs, which might have been considered extreme in a different context.
Distracting from Controversies or Setbacks
Shocking statements can serve as a distraction from domestic or international challenges. For example, when facing criticism over economic policies like tariffs, which some argue harm middle-class families, Trump’s outlandish proposals (e.g., Canada as a state) shift media and public focus away from these critiques. This aligns with his first-term strategy of using provocative rhetoric to deflect from scandals or policy failures, such as the backlash to his family separation policy. By keeping the conversation on his terms, he minimizes scrutiny of less popular actions.
Appealing to Populist and Anti-Establishment Sentiments
Trump’s shocking statements tap into widespread frustration with globalism, bureaucracy, and political correctness. His Gaza proposal, for instance, challenges decades of U.S. foreign policy orthodoxy, appealing to voters who see traditional diplomacy as ineffective or elitist. Similarly, his calls for drastic actions like mass deportations or deregulation resonate with those who view the federal government as bloated or out of touch. This populist appeal helped him win over working-class and Rust Belt voters in 2024, as noted by analysts observing shifts in Democratic voter bases.
Testing Policy Viability and Gauging Reactions
Trump often uses bold statements to float trial balloons, assessing public and international reactions before committing to action. His Gaza population transfer idea, while controversial, allows him to gauge responses from allies, adversaries, and domestic audiences. If met with strong pushback—as it has been from Arab nations and the UN—he can pivot or reframe without fully committing. This aligns with his campaign promise to be a “disruptor,” using provocative rhetoric to test the limits of executive authority and public appetite for radical change.
Projecting Strength and Unpredictability on the Global Stage
Internationally, Trump’s shocking statements cultivate an image of unpredictability, which he uses as a negotiating tool. Proposals like controlling the Panama Canal or relocating Gazans signal to global leaders that he’s willing to challenge established norms, potentially pressuring adversaries like China or Iran to make concessions. His first-term trade war with China and the Abraham Accords demonstrated how his unconventional approach could yield results, even if controversial. This unpredictability can intimidate opponents while rallying allies who favor a strong U.S. stance.
Critical Considerations
While these advantages exist, Trump’s strategy carries risks. Shocking statements can alienate allies, as seen with Egypt and Jordan’s rejection of the Gaza plan, and provoke legal challenges, with over 300 lawsuits filed against his second-term actions. They also deepen domestic divisions, with critics arguing his rhetoric undermines democracy or incites unrest, as warned during his 2024 campaign. Economically, policies tied to his provocative ideas, like tariffs, have been criticized for potentially raising costs for Americans, with estimates suggesting a $5,000 annual hit to middle-class families. Internationally, his Gaza proposal risks inflaming tensions and undermining U.S. credibility on human rights.
In conclusion, Trump’s shocking statements are a calculated tool to dominate attention, energize supporters, shift political boundaries, and project strength. They align with his “America First” ethos and disruptive leadership style, but their success depends on whether he can translate rhetoric into actionable policy without triggering backlash that outweighs the benefits. The Gaza proposal, in particular, underscores both the audacity of his approach and the high stakes of its potential fallout.

ChatGPT says:

There are a few clear advantages Trump gets from saying shocking things, even when they cause outrage:
1. Media dominance
Shock statements guarantee wall-to-wall coverage. Even his critics can’t resist amplifying them, which keeps him at the center of the conversation. He rarely has to buy attention the way other politicians do.
2. Agenda control
By dropping something explosive, he sets the terms of debate. Opponents are forced to react to him, not the other way around. This crowds out stories that might otherwise hurt him.
3. Base reinforcement
His core supporters often read shocking remarks as proof that he’s fearless, politically incorrect, and willing to say what others “won’t.” It deepens loyalty by showing he’s not bound by elite rules.
4. Negotiation leverage
Extreme statements can be opening bids. By suggesting the unthinkable, he shifts the “Overton window” so that what once seemed extreme now looks moderate in comparison.
5. Identity politics of defiance
Trump’s brand is built on defiance. Shocking pronouncements distinguish him from “normal politicians” and feed his image as an outsider battling entrenched powers.
6. Chaos as strategy
Constantly producing shocks destabilizes opponents, media, and even allies. When people never know what he’ll say next, it’s harder for them to prepare or counter with a steady strategy.

The Washington Post writes:

The Trump administration and international partners are discussing proposals to build a “Riviera of the Middle East” on the rubble of Gaza. One would establish U.S. control and pay Palestinians to leave.

What might happen if Trump normalizes population transfer?

ChatGPT says:

If Trump managed to normalize talk of population transfer, a few major ripple effects could unfold:
1. Shift in U.S. foreign policy norms
It would mark a sharp break from decades of U.S. rhetoric about self-determination and human rights. Even if never implemented, the mere normalization would move the Overton window—making mass displacement an option on the table for policymakers in the Middle East and elsewhere.
2. Regional destabilization
Arab states, especially those bordering Gaza (Egypt, Jordan), would feel direct pressure. The suggestion of expelling Gazans would inflame public opinion in the Arab world and could undermine fragile agreements like the Abraham Accords.
3. Precedent for others
Other countries dealing with ethnic or political conflicts might take cues. If the U.S. president can openly talk about transferring populations, strongmen elsewhere could cite it to justify expulsions of minorities.
4. Erosion of international law credibility
The U.S. has long held itself up as a defender of international law against forced displacement (see Bosnia, Rwanda, Darfur). Normalizing the idea would weaken that stance and make U.S. condemnation of similar acts sound hollow.
5. Domestic polarization
Inside the U.S., it would deepen partisan and generational divides. Supporters would double down on Trump as “telling hard truths,” while opponents would escalate rhetoric about authoritarianism and ethnic cleansing. That kind of split could spill into street politics, protests, and more instability.
6. Legacy effects
Even if not acted on, the precedent lingers. Future leaders—foreign and domestic—could revive the idea, pointing to Trump’s example as political cover.

How does Trump’s fatalism play into this discussion?

ChatGPT:

Trump’s fatalism—his tendency to see the world as a harsh, zero-sum place where bad outcomes are inevitable—makes it easier for him to justify radical ideas like population transfer. Here’s how it ties in:
1. Zero-sum worldview
Fatalism frames conflicts as permanent and unsolvable. If you believe “peace will never happen,” then drastic, once-unthinkable measures (like moving populations) start to feel like the only “realistic” options.
2. Shrugging off consequences
Fatalists discount long-term fallout. Trump often signals that chaos, suffering, or blowback are inevitable anyway, so proposing something shocking doesn’t carry the same moral weight—it’s just part of a brutal world.
3. Strongman posture
Fatalism pairs with his image of toughness: “the world is nasty, so we need nasty solutions.” Calling for displacement fits that narrative, because it casts him as willing to face ugly realities others supposedly won’t.
4. Pre-emptive excuse
If the idea fails or causes backlash, fatalism provides cover: “That’s just how the world works,” rather than “I miscalculated.” It lowers his accountability.
5. Emotional resonance with supporters
Many of his base already share a fatalistic mood about decline—America’s loss of greatness, endless conflict in the Middle East, institutions failing. His fatalism validates those feelings and makes extreme proposals sound like truth-telling rather than extremism.

Grok: Trump’s fatalistic rhetoric—his tendency to frame issues in apocalyptic, high-stakes terms—amplifies the shock value of his statements and serves as a deliberate strategy to reinforce his political objectives. This fatalism, characterized by dire warnings about existential threats to America or global stability, intertwines with his provocative proposals, like the population transfer of Gazans, to create a sense of urgency and justify radical actions. Below, I explore how this fatalistic worldview drives his shocking talk, its strategic benefits, and its role in his broader political approach during his second term as the 47th President.

1. Framing Issues as Existential Crises

Trump’s fatalism casts issues like immigration, foreign policy, or global trade as “do-or-die” moments for the United States. For instance, his proposal to relocate Gaza’s population is often framed as a necessary solution to prevent a broader Middle East conflict or to secure U.S. interests against perceived threats like terrorism or Iranian influence. He’s described Gaza as a “ticking time bomb” and suggested that without drastic action, “the whole region could collapse, dragging America into chaos.” This apocalyptic framing makes his radical ideas appear as bold, decisive responses to imminent dangers, appealing to supporters who see him as a protector against existential threats.

Example in Context: His Gaza plan, which involves transferring millions to countries like Egypt or Jordan, is presented as a way to avert a “humanitarian catastrophe” or “endless war.” By invoking fatalistic imagery—e.g., Gaza as a “hellscape” that could “ignite World War III”—he justifies a policy that might otherwise be dismissed as impractical or unethical.

2. Amplifying Shock Value for Attention

Fatalism heightens the shock factor of Trump’s statements, ensuring they cut through the noise of a crowded media landscape. By framing issues in life-or-death terms, he commands attention on platforms like X and traditional outlets, where alarming rhetoric drives engagement. The Gaza proposal, for instance, isn’t just a policy suggestion; it’s pitched as a last-ditch effort to “save the Middle East from itself.” This doomsday lens makes his ideas seem urgent and unignorable, reinforcing his ability to dominate the news cycle, as discussed in the previous response.

Strategic Benefit: The fatalistic tone ensures his Gaza plan or other provocative ideas—like seizing the Panama Canal or annexing Greenland—are debated as existential necessities rather than policy experiments. This keeps opponents on the defensive, reacting to his narrative rather than setting their own.

3. Mobilizing His Base with Fear and Urgency

Trump’s fatalism taps into the fears of his supporters, particularly those who feel America is under siege from globalism, immigration, or foreign adversaries. By warning that inaction on issues like Gaza or border security could lead to “the end of America as we know it,” he galvanizes his base to rally behind his solutions, no matter how extreme. His 2024 campaign leaned heavily on this, with speeches decrying a “dying nation” saved only by his leadership. The Gaza transfer idea, tied to warnings about terrorism or regional collapse, resonates with voters who see bold action as essential to national survival.

Evidence: Posts on X from 2025 show Trump supporters praising his Gaza plan as “the only way to stop another 9/11,” reflecting how his fatalistic framing aligns with their anxieties about security and global threats.

4. Justifying Unconventional Policies

Fatalism provides a moral and practical rationale for policies that defy international norms or legal frameworks. The Gaza population transfer, widely criticized as a violation of the Fourth Geneva Convention, is framed by Trump as a necessary evil to prevent a “greater catastrophe.” Similarly, his calls for mass deportations or tariffs are justified with warnings about economic collapse or cultural erosion. This fatalistic lens makes radical ideas seem like pragmatic responses to dire circumstances, deflecting criticism about their feasibility or ethics.

Example: Trump’s claim that relocating Gazans could turn the region into a “Riviera of the Middle East” contrasts a utopian outcome with the grim alternative of endless conflict, making the proposal seem like a bold gamble worth taking.

5. Projecting Strength and Deflecting Criticism

Trump’s fatalistic rhetoric reinforces his image as a strong, decisive leader willing to confront uncomfortable truths. By warning of catastrophic consequences—e.g., “If we don’t act on Gaza, Iran wins” or “America will lose its sovereignty without border control”—he positions himself as the only leader capable of averting disaster. This deflects criticism that his policies, like the Gaza plan, are reckless or inflammatory, as he can argue that critics are ignoring the “real” threats he’s addressing.

Global Impact: Internationally, this fatalism makes Trump appear unpredictable, as seen in his first term with North Korea or Iran. Allies like Israel may cautiously support his Gaza rhetoric, while adversaries like Iran face pressure to negotiate under the specter of U.S. intervention.

Risks and Limitations

While fatalism amplifies Trump’s shocking talk, it carries risks. Overusing apocalyptic rhetoric can desensitize audiences, reducing its impact over time. His Gaza proposal, for instance, has been met with skepticism even among some supporters on X, who call it “too far-fetched” or fear it could “start a war.” Internationally, his fatalistic framing alienates allies like Egypt and Jordan, who reject the Gaza plan outright, risking diplomatic isolation. Domestically, critics argue his rhetoric fuels division, with some linking it to rising political violence, as seen in protests against his policies in 2025.

Trump’s fatalism is a core driver of his shocking statements, transforming proposals like the Gaza population transfer into urgent, high-stakes solutions to existential threats. It amplifies his media dominance, mobilizes his base, justifies radical policies, and projects strength, all while reinforcing his “America First” brand. However, the strategy risks overreach, as the Gaza plan’s backlash—condemned by the UN and Arab allies—shows the limits of fatalistic rhetoric when it outpaces practical implementation or international consensus. By framing issues as apocalyptic, Trump ensures his ideas resonate loudly, but their success depends on navigating the fine line between provocation and credibility.

Politico published June 8, 2018:

The ‘What, Me Worry?’ President
Donald Trump has long said he doesn’t worry about the future because nothing really matters. Next week, he’ll be negotiating with a rogue nuclear state…
Trump is giving voice to one of the least talked-about but most abiding convictions of his long, loud, public life—his unambiguous belief in the inherent meaninglessness of human existence, and his repeated self-identification as a fatalist.
“I’m a great fatalist,” he told Newsday in 1991.
“I’m very much a fatalist,” he said on CNN in 1997.
And verbatim, still, in the summer of 2016: “Very much,” he told the New York Times.
It’s entirely possible Trump, whose aversion to reading books and limited attention span are matters of public record, doesn’t really know what he means by the term. But the accepted definition of fatalism, a belief that people are powerless to alter the course of events because they are predetermined, is more or less the one Trump has cited as a secret to his success, the liberating key to his ability to handle pressure and emerge from his periods of greatest peril alive and emboldened…
Trump’s expressions of fatalism also fly in the face of his take-all-precautions, self-preservational habits—always insist on a prenuptial agreement, for instance—as well as his bubble-boy idiosyncrasies. His distaste for travel (“boring”). His resistance to shaking hands (“barbaric”). His affinity for McDonald’s and other fast-food fare (“cleanliness”).
And some suggest he identifies as a fatalist “for effect,” as a former associate put it to me. He “decided it was useful in certain moments, and offers it up when it’s convenient,” said D’Antonio, the biographer. “It’s like his supposed Christian faith—that had never really showed itself until he needed that voting bloc.” Added Barbara Res, who started working for Trump in the 1970s and was the construction manager for Trump Tower: “There is no doubt Trump is portraying himself as a fatalist”—emphasis on the portraying.

The media talks about “ethnic cleansing” and “harmful content” and “slurs” as though these are objective evils, but right and wrong depend upon the creation and enforcement of norms.

ChatGPT says:

Words like “ethnic cleansing,” “hate speech,” or “slurs” are not timeless moral categories—they’re labels built on norms that societies construct and enforce. A few points:
1. Norm creation
What counts as right or wrong depends on the cultural, political, and historical context. Population transfers were treated as practical statecraft in the 19th and early 20th centuries; after WWII they became framed as crimes. Same action, different normative lens.
2. Media as norm enforcer
When media call something “ethnic cleansing” or “harmful content,” they’re not describing a physical fact but signaling the boundaries of acceptable discourse. Those words carry moral weight because institutions (UN, courts, governments, platforms) back them up.
3. Power and enforcement
Norms stick when powerful actors enforce them. “Slur” only matters because workplaces, schools, and platforms punish its use. “War crime” only matters because courts or coalitions attempt prosecutions. Without enforcement, the labels fade into rhetoric.
4. Shifting boundaries
Norms evolve quickly. Fifty years ago, many terms now treated as slurs were common in mainstream media. Fifty years from now, today’s accepted language may be condemned. Same with political practices once considered legitimate (colonialism, population transfer).
5. Objective vs. constructed
The acts themselves—killing, displacing, insulting—are observable. But whether they’re framed as acceptable, regrettable, criminal, or unspeakable evil depends on the norms we choose to enforce.

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What are the implications of Donald Trump’s fatalism?

Posted on September 1, 2025 by Luke Ford

ChatGPT says: Trump’s fatalism—his tendency to frame events as inevitable, rigged, or out of anyone’s control—has several implications, both political and cultural:

1. Undermines Agency and Responsibility

Fatalism downplays human choice and accountability. For Trump, this often means shrugging off responsibility (“it is what it is”) and casting outcomes as predetermined. That can let him dodge blame for failures but also undercuts the idea that leadership and policy decisions matter.

2. Fuels Cynicism About Institutions

By portraying politics as a rigged game controlled by shadowy forces, Trump reinforces the belief that institutions can’t be trusted. This resonates with supporters who already feel powerless, but it corrodes faith in the democratic process itself.

3. Shifts from Policy to Personality

If nothing systemic can be fixed, then politics becomes less about programs and more about backing the strongman who can bend fate. Fatalism makes Trump’s persona the central focus: only he can fight back against inevitability, or at least say what others won’t.

4. Creates an Apocalyptic Tone

Fatalism easily slides into end-times thinking. Trump often frames elections as “the last chance” or describes America as doomed without him. That raises the stakes unnaturally high, turning normal politics into existential battles.

5. Weakens Forward-Looking Governance

Fatalists don’t invest much in long-term planning or institution-building. For Trump, that has meant reactive, short-term, personalized decision-making. This may thrill supporters who like his disruption, but it leaves no enduring policy legacy beyond chaos and deregulation.

6. Impacts International Posture

Fatalism blends with transactionalism abroad. If everything is rigged or inevitable, then alliances, treaties, and institutions have no inherent value. They’re just temporary deals until fate turns. That destabilizes traditional U.S. foreign policy norms.

7. Cultural Amplification

Because Trump is such a dominant cultural figure, his fatalism feeds a wider American mood: skepticism that hard work or reform matter, and a retreat into either grievance or entertainment. That makes collective problem-solving harder across the board.

There are a few ways it can function as a political strength or serve a broader social role:

1. Emotional Relief for Supporters

Fatalism takes pressure off individuals. If “the system is rigged” or “it is what it is,” then ordinary people don’t have to blame themselves for economic decline, cultural shifts, or political losses. That reassurance is powerful in hard times.

2. Cuts Through Pretension

Trump’s fatalism often exposes the limits of lofty promises from politicians. By saying things are rigged or broken, he sometimes gives voice to truths others won’t say, like structural unfairness or elite capture. That bluntness can resonate as honesty, even if oversimplified.

3. Mobilizing Anger into Loyalty

Strangely, fatalism can energize rather than paralyze. If everything is doomed unless you rally around Trump, then voting for him becomes a kind of last stand. It forges a tighter in-group identity among his base.

4. Immunity Against Setbacks

When things go wrong, a fatalist leader can more easily frame it as destiny or sabotage rather than incompetence. That helps Trump maintain resilience in the face of scandal, impeachment, or defeat—where another politician might be sunk, he reframes it as inevitable betrayal.

5. A Counterweight to American Optimism

The U.S. political tradition leans heavily on optimism—“morning in America,” “yes we can,” “build back better.” Trump’s fatalism is jarring, but it punctures complacency. It forces confrontation with decline, limits, and fragility, themes most politicians avoid.

6. Pragmatic Edge

If you believe fate rules outcomes, you may be less wedded to grand ideologies. Trump’s fatalism sometimes translated into opportunism—he could pivot, abandon principles, or contradict himself without embarrassment, which gave him tactical flexibility.

Grok says: Trump’s fatalism predominantly poses risks to institutional integrity, social cohesion, and proactive problem-solving. These effects are amplified in a polarized era, where such a worldview can either demotivate collective action or inspire defiant individualism, depending on one’s perspective.

Donald’s fatalism—characterized by an acceptance of events as inevitable, often summed up in phrases like “It is what it is”—can be viewed through a non-partisan lens as having potential upsides, though these are subjective and debated. While much analysis focuses on its drawbacks, such as reactive governance, some perspectives highlight benefits stemming from flexibility, resilience, and alignment with certain voter sentiments. Below, I outline key advantages for Trump personally and for America, drawing from leadership studies and political observations.

Advantages for Trump

Trump’s fatalistic outlook may provide him with psychological and strategic edges in his high-stakes world.

Psychological Resilience and Reduced Stress: By viewing outcomes as predetermined, Trump can maintain composure amid chaos, avoiding the paralysis of over-analysis. This self-belief—that things will “work out” because they historically have for him—fosters confidence and boldness, allowing him to take risks without excessive worry.

This trait has been credited with helping him navigate personal and political crises, from business bankruptcies to legal battles, turning potential setbacks into narratives of inevitability and triumph.

Unpredictability as a Negotiation Tool: Fatalism contributes to an unpredictable style that keeps opponents off-balance, which can be advantageous in deals or diplomacy. For instance, his “wait-and-see” approach in trade negotiations or foreign policy creates leverage by making others guess his next move, potentially yielding concessions. This aligns with his enjoyment of power and directive leadership, where fatalistic detachment enhances his charismatic, audience-reading abilities.

Electoral Appeal to Pessimistic Voters: His fatalistic rhetoric resonates with Americans who feel societal decline is inevitable, amplifying distrust in institutions and positioning him as a relatable outsider fighting against the odds. This connection mobilizes his base, as seen in polls where pessimistic voters strongly favor him, turning cultural fatalism into a populist strength that bridges leader and followers.

Advantages for America

On a national level, this mindset could foster certain systemic benefits, particularly in promoting adaptability and self-reliance over rigid planning.

Policy Flexibility and Reduced Overreach: A fatalistic approach encourages reactive, pragmatic decision-making rather than ideological rigidity, potentially avoiding costly interventions. For example, it aligns with a “peace through strength” foreign policy that prioritizes deterrence and short-term alliances over proactive entanglements, which some argue has maintained global stability without new wars.

This could benefit America by allowing quick pivots in dynamic environments, like economic disruptions, leading to outcomes such as job growth and income increases during his first term.

Encouragement of Individual and Societal Resilience:

By downplaying government as the solution to inevitable challenges, fatalism may inspire self-reliance and entrepreneurial spirit among citizens. This resonates with American values of freedom and spontaneity, potentially countering bureaucratic overreach and fostering innovation in areas like the economy or technology. In populist contexts, it can rally communities around defiant individualism, shining a light on overlooked governance issues and prompting broader debates on democracy’s future.

Cultural and Political Mobilization: Fatalism’s link to populism can energize disengaged segments of society, viewing inevitable decline as a call to action rather than despair. This has been seen in mobilizing voters around themes of national revival, potentially strengthening democratic participation among those who feel marginalized. For the country, this might lead to unconventional successes, such as regulatory reforms that enhance competition and reduce costs in sectors like aviation.

Trump’s fatalism gave him leverage in trade talks because he could credibly signal he didn’t fear collapse. A few ways it worked:

1. Credible threat posture

Most leaders avoid brinkmanship because they don’t want markets panicking. Trump’s fatalism (“things crash anyway”) made threats to slap tariffs or walk away from negotiations more believable. That forced counterparts—China, Mexico, Canada, even the EU—to take his threats seriously.

2. Detachment from short-term pain

He framed market crashes or farmer suffering as acceptable collateral damage. That made him less vulnerable to the usual domestic pressures that restrain trade negotiators.

3. Shock bargaining tactic

By signaling indifference to Wall Street or economic fallout, he expanded his negotiating space. Trading partners expected some restraint, but his unpredictability (“I don’t care if the stock market tanks”) pushed them toward concessions.

4. Populist cover

Fatalism about financial elites let him justify punishing Wall Street if it meant “better deals for workers.” This insulated him politically from fallout that would normally destroy a pro-business Republican.

5. Shift in global assumptions

Foreign governments are used to U.S. leaders prioritizing market stability. Trump’s fatalism disrupted that assumption, leaving trade partners less certain and more cautious—an advantage in asymmetric bargaining.

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What Is Paleo-Conservatism?

Posted on September 1, 2025 by Luke Ford

I think the paleo-cons have been right about most everything over the past 80 years.

Henry George writes: Paleoconservatism coheres around the “shared idea of the good society, which is organic and cohesive. All paleoconservatives are deeply suspicious of our late modern administrative state, which they view as a threat to traditional social relations and as a vehicle for unwanted social transformation.” Moreover, “what is true … for all paleoconservatives is a belief in a fixed human nature, a conviction that leads them to be skeptical of attempts to reconstruct inherited social and gender roles.”

From A Paleoconservative Anthology: New Voices for an Old Tradition:

* Paul Gottfried and Samuel Francis have been among the most easily recognized defenders of paleoconservatism. Naturally, their critiques of the managerial state that emerged in the 1930s are similar in content and purpose. They also analyze politics, power, and ideas within the historical framework in which all of these forces function. Yet they fundamentally disagree on important issues, not least of which is the relation between elites and religion in modern liberal democracy. Francis generally adheres to the Enlightenment belief that religion has little importance apart from serving as a propaganda tool for the managerial elites within a particular regime. Religion, in short, is the passive plaything of powerful interests. Gottfried, in sharp contrast, contends that religion or religious identity actively shapes the consciousness of this elite class in ways that go well beyond mere political calculation. Whether they know it or not, the managerial class often perceives political reality through the lens of a secularized theology. This disagreement or debate invites citizens on the Right to rethink the importance of how the so-called ‘secular age’ continues to engage in the political usage of religion.

* [Sam Francis] remained committed to Burnham’s hard and fast distinction between rational secular rulers and non-rational religious multitudes.

* In After Liberalism: Mass Democracy in the Managerial State (1999), [Paul Gottfried] contends that most voters “have given away what they value less, the responsibility of self-government for themselves and their polity, in return for what they value more, sexual and expressive freedoms of a certain kind and the apparent guarantee of entitle- ments.”

* The belief that the desire for liberal democracy is natural to all peoples is arguably “magical” because it confuses what is universal to humanity and what is historically specific to a given civilization.

* Francis ultimately believes that the ideological beliefs driving immigration policy and inter- ventionist foreign policies are rational to the core. For this reason, he treats “equality” as an idea that only a few fanatical ideologues could truly believe. “The doctrine of equality is unimportant because no one, save perhaps Pol Pot and Ben Wattenberg, really believes in it, and no one, least of all those who profess it most loudly, is seriously motivated by it.” 82 Rather, this doctrine “serves as a political weapon, to be unsheathed whenever it is useful for cut- ting down barriers, human or institutional, to the power of those groups that wear it on their belts.”

* The progressive Left never tires of insisting that its view of human nature draws heavily from the social sciences. The logic of their argument runs roughly as follows: 1. Social science tells us that human beings are built for peaceful and selfless cooperation and that competition and conflict are functions of unhealthy, reactionary social orders. 2. Social science further informs us that all human beings are basically the same in their natural capabilities. If status hierarchy and inequalities arise, this has no relationship whatever to innate human differences. The human mind is a blank slate, receptive to whatever socialization and acculturation it undergoes, and so we can design the kind of social order we like depending entirely on how we socialize individuals and the cultural framework into which we place them. 3. For these reasons, unlimited social progress, by which is meant the promise of increasingly cooperative and egalitarian social order, is well within in our reach.

* The most basic human interests are consonant with those of other organisms: living long enough to reproduce and ensuring the viability of our offspring. Human action is therefore typically self-interested. Self-interest however extends beyond consideration for the individual alone in a number of ways that produce what is misleadingly classified as altruistic or selfless action. Care is frequently given to close kin, but much less typi- cally to others who are genetically more distant, because kin are genetically much more alike than unrelated individuals. This tendency is known as kin selection in the evolutionary literature. It still reveals the operation of self- interest, since we are inclined to extend care and favors to those who are genetically the most like us. Cooperative reciprocity can be found in human societies among individuals who are not closely genetically related if either (a) there is a reasonable expectation that such acts will be repaid by those who are helped (this is gen- erally only feasible in small-scale societies), and/or (b) in a system of moral reputations in which those who act in a seemingly altruistic fashion toward non-kin receive benefits that increase their ability to engender more offspring and to survive longer. With these two concepts, kin selection and reciprocal altruism, a biosocial science can go far in explaining moral behavior.

* Moral systems—and especially those that tie human moral action to a supernatural world, that is, religions— are highly effective mechanisms for getting human individuals to act in ways that benefit their interests in the long term, even if how this happens may not be understandable to individual actors.

* Humans live in groups. Narrowly selfish behavior might in the short run bring advantage to an individual, but over the longer haul, particularly if self- centeredness becomes general, it can make life in such groups more difficult, especially when material resources are scarce. Significant sharing of scarce resources, enforced by shaming and ostracism for those who were uncoopera- tive, was likely widespread in subsistence-level human societies. Even when resources are not scarce, narrow selfishness—without even a pretense of reciprocal services and moral concern for those who are lower in the social order—increases resentment and makes conflict more likely.

* If we look at the full range of human societies, from the hunter-gatherer period to modern industrial societies, we find that hierarchy and status inequality are omnipresent features, although the contours of inequality may change significantly over time. In the societal type in which humans have spent perhaps 95 percent of their time as a species, hunter-gatherer societies, material wealth-based hierarchy was quite rare. Instead, status was based on differential prestige accorded to individual talents and membership in differ- ent identity groups. Sex and age were then the central axes of stratification and inequality. Individuals skilled at hunting or shamanism, the political activity of resolving conflicts in the group, could attain higher prestige as well. Material inequality began to grow in human societies as soon as the inven- tion of horticulture made possible an economic surplus.

* an empirical fact of the scientific study of the distribution of attributes in the human population that this distribution is unequal. That some people are generally viewed as, for example, better looking or more intelligent, is a fact every member of every society knows intuitively.

* human variation produces different outcomes for individuals and the resulting hierarchies are stable aspects of human society. For reasons having to do with the nature of inclusive fitness, those who have achieved hierarchically superior positions due to greater beauty or intelligence will have a compelling interest in maintaining those advantages and passing them on to their descendants. Even intensive engineering efforts to prevent them from doing so are likely to produce at most limited results, since these motivations are strong and will likely bear significant long-term consequences. For these reasons, hierarchies and stratified status-systems appear to be a permanent aspect of human existence. Regarding hierarchy and stratification, we find another perfect fit between biosocial science and the paleoconservative insight into the inevitability and even the benefits of inequality.

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‘Trump’s Unapologetic Defense of the Rule of Law’

Posted on September 1, 2025 by Luke Ford

Heather Mac Donald writes: California’s cradle-to-grave welfare subsidies for illegal aliens and its widespread sanctuary policies have made the state a magnet for border-crossing migrants. That longstanding encouragement of immigration lawlessness has bred a sense of entitlement. The illegal-alien riots serve as an object lesson in Broken Windows theory: tolerate lawlessness in one sphere of activity, and you will cultivate it in another.

California’s Democratic officials and sanctuary activists take it as a given that ICE has no right to make immigration arrests at or around workplaces—which is where the Friday enforcement actions took place. This no-workplace enforcement principle, made up out of thin air, is just a site-specific variant of a broader rule that the open-borders lobby has willed into existence: the government may not create anxiety in illegal aliens.

For decades, the mainstream media has denounced any hint of enforcement in the interior of the country because the mere possibility of being picked up by ICE, however remote, was making the illegal-alien “community” “fearful.” Apparently, there is not just an entitlement not to be deported once you cross the border illegally but also an entitlement to be free from any concern that you might be deported. Since, therefore, ICE’s enforcement efforts were illegitimate—notwithstanding that agents acted pursuant to judicial warrants—radical resistance to those efforts was necessary.

California is also ground zero for the toleration of crime and disorder. Vagrants rule the streets in many parts of Los Angeles, San Francisco, San Diego, and other cities. Three of the country’s most influential pro-decriminalization, anti-incarceration district attorneys—Chesa Boudin in San Francisco, George Gascón in Los Angeles, and Pamela Price in Oakland—presided in California until recent electoral defeats. Southern California is the home of street takeovers—whereby large groups commandeer major intersections to race cars, often followed by looting of nearby convenience stores. The use of SUVs to ram into luxury stores and bodegas alike in order to clear out the merchandise seemed to originate in California after the George Floyd race riots, as did follow-home robberies, whereby thieves spot Rolex and other fine jewelry-wearers at restaurants and follow them home to assault them.

So when Los Angeles mayor Karen Bass says, as she did on MSNBC on Tuesday morning, “I’m going to do everything I can to keep Angelenos safe, no matter how they came here,” when California governor Gavin Newsom says in a fundraising appeal on Tuesday morning: “Keeping Californians safe has always been our number one priority,” many Californians will chortle bitterly. Of course, to be fair to Bass, her solicitude was directed to the city’s large illegal-alien population, not to its law-abiding citizens, in the same way that Bass and her fellow government officials direct their primary concern to the state’s homeless population and criminals, not to taxpaying, hardworking residents.

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Trump Vs Big Science

Posted on September 1, 2025 by Luke Ford

Heather Mac Donald writes: The claim that the Trump administration might push the NSF [National Science Foundation] to fund research with an “ideological bent” was rich. The NSF has been supporting ideologically driven research for years, much of it through its Directorate for STEM Education. The directorate’s $1.15 billion budget in 2024—a full ninth of the foundation’s $9.2 billion budget and much higher than funding for biology, computer science, and engineering—is just a starting point for gauging how much the NSF spent on education projects. Other directorates, nominally focused on hard science, also distributed education grants.

The NSF’s education grant-making has been focused on racial victimhood. The education directorate plays a key role in boosting the NSF’s diversity metrics. Its program managers—who approve and oversee grants—are disproportionately minorities, especially minority women. Grant recipients also tend to be disproportionately minority. This imbalance may reflect the composition of the applicant pool for once, since America’s schools of education, the feeders for NSF education program managers and education awardees, are themselves disproportionately minority. This skew is even greater in STEM-related education specialties, and not just because those specialties are devoted to formulating racism-based explanations for the underrepresentation of minorities in STEM. These education fields serve as a safe harbor for STEM graduates who opt out of STEM careers, and this category, too, is disproportionately minority.

NSF grant recipient James Holly Jr. is a typical case. In 2023, Holly received nearly $600,000 from the NSF’s Division of Engineering Education and Centers—part of the Directorate for Engineering, illustrating how education-related spending extended beyond the NSF’s Directorate for Education. Holly earned an M.S. in mechanical engineering from Michigan State University in 2014 and then pivoted to education, completing a Ph.D. in engineering education at Purdue University in 2018. Whatever his strengths as a mechanical engineer, his command of antiracism discourse is impeccable.

The abstract of Holly’s NSF project, “Learning from Black Intellectualism: Broadening Epistemic Foundations in Engineering Education to Empower Black Students and Faculty,” deserves an extended excerpt, since it epitomizes what had been the NSF’s education portfolio:

“The current discourse around the minimal presence of Black people in engineering is framed in terms of underrepresentation—the disparity between Black people’s demographic representation in the general populace and within the discipline. However, this narrative preserves Whiteness by passively neglecting the culture of racism in engineering. A discourse centered on who can be physically included without engaging the implications of power in knowledge production neglects the ways Black people are forced to give meaning to their experiences through the lens of Whiteness. Recent scholarship within engineering education suggests a need for (1) a modern, reparatory framework for helping engineering faculty and students understand political implications of engineering knowledge; and (2) an equity-focused resource to foster constructive evaluation of teaching. . . .

This CAREER project will 1) examine the effects of recasting engineering knowledge through the legacy of Black intellectualism, and 2) advance educational justice by countering the epistemic violence within engineering and its sense-making practices. The anticipated outcomes of this study will equip engineering faculty with tools for equitable instruction, and more importantly, enhance Black students’ sense of belonging by bridging the gap between their engineering learning and social reality. Fugitive pedagogy will be used to investigate engineering faculty epistemic norms and explore ways to reconstruct disciplinary knowledge through Black intellectualism. The project will implement a social design experimentation methodology to study how engineering education can be transformed toward epistemic equity. Epistemic equity is operationalized through the idea of re-politicizing—grappling with cultural and political implications of technical systems—engineering courses and curriculum. The overarching question guiding the research plan is: How can Black intellectualism be used to re-politicize engineering pedagogy? Engineering faculty will develop a schema (Phase 1), engage in revising a course based on the schema (Phase 2), and develop a teaching evaluation tool to assess the outcomes (Phase 3). Phases 2 and 3 will be repeated in an iterative cycle three times, centering faculty and student voice is the hallmark of the integrated research and education plans.”

When Big Science proclaimed throughout spring 2025 that Trump’s budget cuts would devastate American scientific prowess, especially vis-à-vis China, “Learning from Black Intellectualism” was what the science establishment was referring to.

The following features of the Holly abstract were standard. It ignores blacks’ on average rock-bottom mathematical skills. It is this skills gap that causes black underrepresentation in engineering, not “Whiteness,” a “culture of racism,” or “epistemic violence.” (The number of black 12th-graders who are advanced in math nationwide is a statistical zero; 60 percent of black 12th-graders do not possess even basic 12th-grade math skills. The average black score on the math SAT in 2023 was 440 on an 800-point scale, compared with Asians’ average 629 math score.)

The abstract places all responsibility for increasing the representation of blacks in engineering on everyone and everything besides black students and their families. Engineering pedagogy must be “re-politicized” with “Black intellectualism.” Engineering education must be “transformed toward epistemic equity.” Not a word about cracking the books and completing problem sets.

Holly uses scientistic and hothouse rhetoric—“fugitive pedagogy,” “social design experimentation methodology,” “schema” and “phases” “repeated in an iterative cycle three times”—to create the illusion of exacting research protocols.

Multiply “Learning from Black Intellectualism” several hundredfold for a picture of the projects that the NSF had started to shed in the spring.

On April 18, the NSF announced that it would no longer fund projects that “give preference to some groups [based on] protected class or characteristics”—in other words, based on race and sex.

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Taking Down The Tent Cities

Posted on September 1, 2025 by Luke Ford

Adam Mill writes: Fixing the homeless problem begins by refusing to allow the homeless to occupy the public square. They do not have a constitutional right to inflict misery on the taxpayer. In 2023 the Supreme Court reiterated this in Grants Pass v. Johnson. The president promised to move the homeless “far away” from D.C. and homeless advocates and the left howled. What short memories these pearl-clutchers and social justice advocates have. Do you remember the mass protests that filled the streets when San Francisco relocated its homeless problem in anticipation of the APEC conference in 2023? Me neither. It’s always somehow different when Trump does it.

The reality of the problem is worse than this hypocrisy, however. The real tragedy is that the homeless are being exploited by the left to expand the social programs that enable street living. The programs are shockingly expensive and clearly make the problem they claim to address worse. This isn’t compassion. It’s short-sighted, feel-good gestures in the serve of special interests like contractors and government employees. Enough is enough. The homeless problem begins by moving the homeless people out of the public square into shelters where they can be cared for. They are not zoo exhibits, and we should no longer tolerate treating them as such.

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NYT: Someone Is Defying the Supreme Court, but It Isn’t Trump

Posted on September 1, 2025 by Luke Ford

Adrian Vermeule writes in the NYT: Since President Trump returned to the presidency for a second term, legal scholars and political writers have wrestled with a particular preoccupation: What if he defies court orders?

When actual examples of the administration violating court orders turned out to be hard to find, and contestable in any given case, some commentators broadened the notion of defiance to include so-called malicious compliance (or legalistic noncompliance). The idea here is that even if the president or his agents did comply with the terms of court orders, however unreasonable, they might be doing so in bad faith, with the covert motive of actually evading or circumventing the point of the order.

The issue of defying court orders is still with us — but it has taken a twist. Now the defiance is coming from inside the judicial branch itself, in the form of a lower-court mutiny against the Supreme Court. District Court judges, and in some cases even appellate courts, have either defied orders of the court outright or engaged in malicious compliance and evasion of those orders, in transparent bad faith.

In the past decade or so, increasing judicial overreach has caused harm to our constitutional order by limiting the ability of the executive branch to implement the program it was elected by the American people to pursue. It has been a scourge for both recent Republican and Democratic presidents, and it may provoke extreme measures to restore order. The recent defiance goes even further, threatening to damage the internal integrity of the judiciary, which ultimately relies on lower courts to follow the Supreme Court’s direction.

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WSJ: Populist Right-Wing Parties Lead Polls in Europe’s Biggest Economies

Posted on September 1, 2025 by Luke Ford

WSJ: The sense of economic decline together with rapid immigration is a toxic combination that has turned many voters against established political parties, said Jérémie Gallon, a former French diplomat and head of Europe for consulting firm McLarty Associates. “It’s the same story from smaller English cities to the French countryside to German towns, where many people feel like the traditional elites look down on them or ignore their concerns,” he said.

Bardella and National Rally have tapped into widespread anxiety that France’s Muslim minority, one of the largest in Europe, is encroaching on the secular values of the French Republic, and into a perceived decline of living standards among working-class and middle-class families. In recent years, National Rally has evolved from a fringe protest movement to the country’s largest single party in the National Assembly, France’s lower house of Parliament.

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James Burnham: An Intellectual Biography (2025)

Posted on September 1, 2025 by Luke Ford

Here are some highlights from this new book:

* Certain paleoconservatives continued to advance the ideas of the less idealistic and gloomy second James Burnham. This Burnham has been identified as a forerunner to Donald Trump’s rise to power. One link between Burnham and Trump supporters is Samuel Francis. Francis was inspired by The Managerial Revolution, The Machiavellians, and The Suicide of the West, not his mentor’s Cold War writings. Focusing on Burnham’s realism and his emphasis on the human need for power, Francis considered Burnham a paleoconservative, like himself. He stressed Burnham’s defense of Congress (as opposed to neoconservatives who, for Francis, favored an active executive branch); Burnham’s support for tradition; and, finally, Burnham’s criticism of liberal universalism. Francis also distrusted the elite, a group he associated with corporate managers and bureaucrats, believing that they
posed a threat to the American middle class, the American way of life, and even American democracy.
* The same month in which Kristol and Kagan argued in the New York Times that the United States must use power to remove Saddam Hussein, the paleoconservative Francis wrote about a group he called “Middle American Radicals.”10 The pessimistic Francis suggests that democracy was an illusion for them because as American ruling elites (with the help of the bureaucracy) thrive in Washington, DC, these Middle Americans are “excluded from meaningful political participation.” 11 Disproportionally White and middle-class, this group feels powerless as globalization threatened their way of life and their nation. While Kristol and Kagan used Burnham’s ideas to justify a more aggressive and international US foreign policy, Francis demands an “America First” approach. This means promoting US economic and geopolitical interests above any cosmopolitan or humanitarian ideals. Pat Buchanan initially carried his political torch. It would be passed to Trump. The president harnessed sentiments that can be found in Burnham’s and Francis’s writings, even some Trotskyite ones, such as the idea that a privileged bureaucratic elite hold the levers of power. They need to be thwarted in the name of democracy.
* The Managerial Revolution and The Machiavellians promote a worldview that distrusts the bureaucracy, government, and the ruling elite. The Managerial Revolution predicts a future ruled by a managerial and bureaucratic elite. The Machiavellians insists that the elites only work to perpetuate their power and privilege, making them the enemies of democracy. Burnham further popularized the disproportionate (some would say excessive) power of the bureaucracy in a 1959 piece for Human Events (the conservative magazine that was one of Ronald Reagan’s favorites). In a piece titled “The Bureaucracy: The Fourth Branch of Government,” Burnham argues that the bureaucracy is an independent force that wields its own power and even usurps other branches of government…
* What Burnham did do for his American audience—particularly conservatives—in The Managerial Revolution, The Machiavellians, and subsequent writings was to conceive of managerialism and bureaucracy as powerful political forces, ones that needed to be thwarted to reclaim democracy. They were the enemies of the people who needed to be resisted.
This philosophy has shaped a certain part of the American electorate. For them, this fight is against “the deep state,” an unelected group of clandestine bureaucrats that exercise too much power.
* Burnham’s attitude toward Black Americans can best be described as paternalistic. A National Review editorial titled “Why the South Must Prevail” summarized his views by maintaining that “the problem in the South is not how to get the vote for the Negro, but how to equip the Negro—and a great many Whites—to cast an enlightened and responsible
vote.” The article continues that the South should not exploit Black people but should work with them to help them achieve cultural equality. It contends that until this was achieved, the White South had a duty to impose its higher civilized standard because “for the time being, it is the advanced race.”

Grok says: “James Burnham: An Intellectual Biography” by David T. Byrne (published in 2025 by Cornell University Press) is a detailed exploration of Burnham’s life and ideas, framing him as a pivotal 20th-century thinker who evolved from a Trotskyite Marxist to a hardline anticommunist conservative. The book portrays Burnham as embodying two contrasting personas: an optimistic “man of action” who believed in using power (even violence) to achieve progress, and a pessimistic realist skeptical of true democracy due to elite dominance. Drawing on archival sources, it analyzes his major works, influences (e.g., Aquinas, Marx, Trotsky, Machiavelli, Burke), and impacts on figures like George Orwell, Ronald Reagan, and modern conservatives. The narrative spans his youth to his death in 1987, emphasizing his role in Cold War strategy, the CIA, and National Review. Key themes include power struggles, elite theory, anticommunism, and critiques of liberalism.

James Burnham, a senior editor at National Review for 23 years, is a towering figure in paleoconservative thought due to his theories of elite power and skepticism of liberal universalism.

Here’s a chapter-by-chapter overview of the main highlights:

Introduction (pp. 1-9): Introduces the “two Burnhams” (optimistic revolutionary vs. gloomy elitist). Traces his influence across the spectrum—from Orwell’s 1984 to neocons like the Kristols and paleocons like Samuel Francis (linking to Trumpism). Critiques prior biographies for focusing on one side of him.
Chapter 1: The Young Burnham (pp. 10-15): Covers his Chicago upbringing in a wealthy Catholic family, education at Canterbury School and Princeton (where he excelled but became an atheist), and Oxford studies under Martin D’Arcy (influenced by Aquinas’s logic). Highlights his early essay praising World War I as regenerative, foreshadowing his lifelong view of violence as a catalyst for change. Personal losses (father’s death, broken engagement) may have fueled his radicalization.
Chapter 2: Embracing Marxism (pp. 16-32): Details his shift to revolutionary Marxism in the 1930s Great Depression, mentored by Sidney Hook and inspired by Trotsky’s History of the Russian Revolution. Burnham joined Trotskyite groups, wrote for socialist journals, and promoted class struggle, viewing U.S. democracy as a sham controlled by the bourgeoisie. He saw power as key to proletarian victory and elections as illusions.
Chapter 3: Leaving Marxism (pp. 33-46): Examines his 1939-1940 break with Trotsky over Stalin’s purges, the Nazi-Soviet Pact, and Soviet invasions. Burnham rejected Marxist dialectics and inevitability, arguing Marxism itself (not just Stalin) caused Soviet tyranny. Trotsky accused him of bourgeois bias; Burnham quit the Workers Party, becoming an “apostate.”
Chapter 4: The New Elite (pp. 47-60): Analyzes The Managerial Revolution (1941), predicting a new ruling class of bureaucrats, managers, and technicians replacing capitalists. Echoes Trotsky’s bureaucratic elite but denies proletarian victory; sees this as limiting democracy in a “managerial society.”
Chapter 5: The Truth about the Elite (pp. 61-74): Discusses The Machiavellians (1943), profiling Mosca, Pareto, Michels, and Sorel on power realism. Burnham argues rulers always prioritize self-interest (“only power restrains power”), democracy is an ideal to fight for against tyranny, and elites manipulate via rhetoric.
Chapter 6: Samuel Francis, George Orwell, the Bureaucratic Elite, and Power (pp. 75-81): Explores Burnham’s influence on Orwell (1984’s elite manipulation) and paleocons like Francis, who drew on elite theory to critique bureaucracy threatening the middle class and democracy—linking to “America First” ideas.
Chapter 7: Using Power against Communism (pp. 82-103): Covers The Struggle for the World (1947), warning of Soviet expansion and advocating a U.S.-led “soft empire” using hard power (military buildup) to overthrow the regime. Pessimistic about U.S. leadership’s vacillation.
Chapter 8: A Strategy for Liberation (pp. 104-116): Analyzes The Coming Defeat of Communism (1950), optimistic roadmap for victory via “political warfare” (soft power like exploiting Soviet divides, allying with Catholic Church) and hard power to liberate Eastern Europe.
Chapter 9: Thought and Action (pp. 117-135): Details Burnham’s CIA work (1940s-1950s): ideas like spreading Stalin assassination rumors, using truth serum on agents, and a rogue operation with mobster Frank Costello to kidnap U.S. communists. He helped found the CIA-funded Congress for Cultural Freedom to recruit anticommunist intellectuals. Supported McCarthy, becoming “anti-anti-McCarthyite,” which ended liberal friendships.
Chapter 10: National Review, Congress and the American Tradition, and Suicide of the West (pp. 136-164): Burnham as National Review senior editor (1955-1978), critiquing U.S. foreign policy (e.g., containment, détente) as benefiting Soviets; advocated arms race. Suicide of the West (1964) calls liberalism the “ideology of Western suicide” for failing against communism, drawing on Burke against rapid reform. Skeptical of ideology, accepted welfare state elements.
Chapter 11: Vietnam Failure and the Non-Western World (pp. 165-186): Burnham demanded more U.S. force in Vietnam (including chemical weapons) to show resolve; blamed failure on insufficient power. Supported colonialism in non-West (e.g., Africa, Asia) as stabilizing; critiqued rapid decolonization creating vacuums for communism.
Epilogue: Burnham Today (pp. 187-192): His legacy in neocons (Reagan’s arms race, Kristol’s “benevolent hegemony”) and paleocons (Francis’s “Middle American Radicals,” Trumpism’s anti-elite populism). Notes recent left-wing criticism for CIA ties, Vietnam views, and colonialism support.

The Juiciest Parts

Byrne doesn’t shy away from Burnham’s controversial edges, portraying him as a “head-spinning” figure who went from lecturing Trotsky to extreme anticommunism. Here are the most provocative, “juicy” elements that highlight his extremism, contradictions, and real-world impacts:

Radical Marxist Phase and Trotsky Breakup: As a Trotskyite, Burnham fomented revolution, dismissing U.S. elections as “prisoners electing wardens.” His public 1940 feud with Trotsky—accusing Marxism of enabling Stalinism—led to Trotsky labeling him a “petty-bourgeois” traitor. Burnham’s apostasy inspired Orwell and paleocons’ anti-establishment rhetoric.
CIA Shenanigans: Burnham brainstormed wild anticommunist ops, like injecting captured Soviet agents with sodium pentothal (truth serum), planting Stalin assassination rumors, and collaborating with mobster Frank Costello to kidnap American communists. He helped orchestrate the 1953 Iran coup and pushed for global anticommunist conferences via the Congress for Cultural Freedom.
McCarthy Support and “Professional Suicide”: Refusing to condemn McCarthy’s investigations, Burnham called himself “anti-anti-McCarthyite.” This burned bridges with liberals (resigning from Partisan Review) and made the CIA wary, but landed him at National Review, where he warned of communist infiltration in everything from government to civil rights groups and Hollywood.
Vietnam Hawkishness: Burnham demanded overwhelming U.S. force in Vietnam, including chemical weapons, to “show hatred” for communism. He blamed U.S. failure on not using enough violence, echoing his youthful praise of World War I as “revivifying.”
Defense of Colonialism and Skepticism of Non-West: He argued colonialism benefited places like Africa and India by providing stability; rapid decolonization created communist vacuums. Called non-Western independence “too much too soon,” predicting chaos.
Elite Theory and Modern Echoes: The Managerial Revolution and The Machiavellians portray politics as raw power struggles where elites manipulate masses—ideas Francis used to fuel paleocon critiques of “technocratic elites,” resonating with Trump-era anti-bureaucracy populism.
Personal Contradictions: A genteel professor who boxed and threw intellectual “punches,” Burnham was emotionally driven despite his logical facade. He preferred liberal Rockefeller over conservative Goldwater, accepted welfare programs, but decried liberalism as suicidal.

These parts underscore Burnham’s “dark” realism and willingness to embrace morally ambiguous tactics for ideological ends, making him a proto-neocon/paleocon villain-hero.

The book portrays Burnham as a Burkean conservative on civil rights—opposed to rapid, federal- or court-driven changes, favoring gradual, local approaches and states’ rights. He viewed the movement as emblematic of liberalism’s flaws: ideologically motivated reforms that ignored human nature and caused more harm. Specific points:

Burnham conceded Black voting rights but opposed strong federal enforcement. He applauded the weakened 1957 Civil Rights Act (which removed key provisions for federal intervention in schools) and criticized using troops in Little Rock (1957) as overreach.
He denounced Brown v. Board of Education (1954) for usurping local control, arguing courts shouldn’t dictate social policy—it restricted freedoms, including Blacks’ choice for segregated schools. Called Chief Justice Earl Warren an “ideologue” turning the Supreme Court into a “political weapon for statist goals.”
In Suicide of the West (1964), he used civil rights as an example of liberalism’s guilt-driven, perpetual reformism, comparing it to futile attempts to “fix” urban skid rows (displacing the poor worsened problems). Saw the 1960s movement as “too much change too fast,” blooming amid tumult he associated with Western decline.
Warned of communist infiltration in civil rights groups (e.g., in The Web of Subversion, 1954), portraying them as potential vehicles for subversion.
Influenced by Trotsky’s rejection of civil rights as “bourgeois tools” (from his Marxist days) and Burke’s preference for organic, slow change over radical upheaval.

Overall, Byrne notes Burnham’s views aligned with 1950s-1960s orthodox conservatism (not necessarily Republican), prioritizing tradition and power balances over equality-driven interventions. This stance isolated him from liberals but fit his elite-skeptical realism.

ChatGPT says: The Big Themes

Burnham started as a Trotskyist revolutionary and ended up as one of the key editors at National Review.

He argued that politics is always about elites using power to maintain their position. Democracy, at best, is a struggle of power against power.

He inspired both Orwell’s 1984 and strands of both neoconservatism (Reagan, Kristol/Kagan) and paleoconservatism (Samuel Francis, Pat Buchanan, Trumpism).

Civil Rights

Burnham took a hard conservative line. He opposed Brown v. Board of Education, siding with Southern segregationist arguments. He said schooling should be settled locally and politically, not by courts. He even argued that Brown restricted Black freedom, since they no longer had the “freedom” to attend segregated schools.

He praised the watered-down Civil Rights Act of 1957, condemning stronger House versions as “utopian” and “ideological”.

In National Review, the editorial “Why the South Must Prevail” (which reflected his views) argued the real problem wasn’t giving Blacks the vote, but “how to equip the Negro—and a great many Whites—to cast an enlightened and responsible vote.” Until then, the White South had a duty to impose its “higher civilized standard” because “for the time being, it is the advanced race”.

He consistently preached patience about racial equality. Against communism he wanted immediate, forceful action; on civil rights, he counseled waiting and hierarchy. He believed not all groups, races, or cultures were equal—Europe ranked above America, America above the non-West.

Why It Stands Out

Burnham could be radical and ruthless abroad (use power, even violence, to crush communism), but deeply reactionary at home (slow change, hierarchy, paternalism).

His writings embodied what Byrne calls “political incorrectness” even by mid-20th century standards. He dismissed egalitarian reformers as utopians blind to human nature.

Burnham’s The Managerial Revolution (1941) is exactly where he first laid out his critique of elite technocratic rule, and it set the tone for later conservative talk of a “ruling class.” His key points:

1. The Rise of the Managerial Class

He argued that ownership was no longer the decisive form of power. In both capitalist and socialist systems, a new elite—managers, bureaucrats, administrators, engineers, and military experts—were taking control.

This group wasn’t tied to capital like the bourgeoisie, nor to labor like the proletariat. Their legitimacy came from technical expertise and administrative ability.

2. Decline of Democracy

Burnham said this shift eroded traditional democratic control. Ordinary citizens were increasingly powerless, because the complexity of modern industry and government left decision-making in the hands of specialists.

For him, democracy was always precarious, but under managerialism it became even more of a façade. Political rhetoric masked the reality that managers and bureaucrats were running the show.

3. Power, Not Ideals

He stripped politics of idealism, arguing that all elites—whether aristocrats, capitalists, or managers—seek first to preserve and expand their own power.

The managerial elite would not bring greater freedom or equality; they would build structures (corporations, agencies, technocratic states) that insulated themselves from accountability.

4. Global and Bipartisan Trend

Burnham stressed that this wasn’t just happening in the U.S.—it was visible in Nazi Germany, Stalinist Russia, and New Deal America alike.

That universality gave the thesis bite: managerialism was the direction of modernity itself, not just one party’s policy.

5. Legacy of the Critique

His insight that a class of unelected experts and bureaucrats could dominate politics foreshadowed later conservative critiques—like Angelo Codevilla’s “ruling class” and Charles Carrington’s “national class.”

George Orwell drew from The Managerial Revolution when building the world of 1984.

Later paleoconservatives (Samuel Francis, Pat Buchanan) and even populist currents that fed into Trumpism borrowed the theme that managers and technocrats had usurped popular sovereignty.

So Burnham’s critique was less about policy details than about the structural reality of power: democracy was yielding to an unaccountable caste of experts who ruled in their own interest, whether in Washington, Moscow, or Berlin.

ChatGPT said:

In Byrne’s 2025 biography, James Burnham: An Intellectual Biography, the managerial elite critique is treated as Burnham’s most lasting contribution, and Byrne connects it directly to both neoconservative and paleoconservative strands of American politics. Here’s how Byrne frames it in the modern context:

1. Neoconservative Burnham

Neocons (Irving Kristol, Bill Kristol, Robert Kagan) picked up Burnham’s use of power argument, especially from The Struggle for the World (1947), but downplayed his gloomier view of elites.

For them, Burnham justified a strong American empire to resist communism and then promote democracy. Reagan explicitly echoed Burnham’s optimism that showing American strength could topple the USSR.

Christopher Hitchens and later writers even dubbed him the intellectual founder of neoconservatism, citing his belief in “American Empire” as the necessary response to global managerial/communist elites.

2. Paleoconservative Burnham

Samuel Francis, a Burnham disciple, leaned on The Managerial Revolution, The Machiavellians, and Suicide of the West. He saw in Burnham a realist critique of the managerial elite as a threat to middle Americans and to democratic self-rule.

Francis reframed Burnham’s elite theory into an “America First” populism, identifying “Middle American Radicals” (disproportionately White, middle-class, politically excluded) as the new insurgent base against the managerial class.

This directly fed into Trumpism: hostility to technocratic elites, corporate managers, and bureaucrats; and the promise to restore sovereignty to “the people”.

3. Managerial Elite in the Trump Era

Byrne emphasizes that Burnham’s critique of technocratic rule resonates most today through paleoconservatism.

Writers like Michael Lind (in The New Class War) explicitly cast U.S. politics as a battle between a technocratic managerial elite (college-educated, neoliberal, globalist) and excluded working-class populists—a neo-Burnhamite framing.

Trump’s rise is presented as a political expression of Burnham’s pessimism about democratic control under managerial elites.

4. The Two Burnhams

Byrne stresses there are really two Burnhams:

The neocon Burnham: optimistic, empire-building, power-to-defeat-communism.

The paleocon Burnham: skeptical, anti-egalitarian, elite-critical, precursor to Trumpist populism.

The managerial revolution thesis underpins both, but leads in opposite political directions depending on which Burnham you take seriously.

So in Byrne’s telling, Burnham’s 1941 warning about a technocratic “managerial class” evolved into the intellectual seed for both America’s postwar foreign policy empire and for the backlash against globalist, bureaucratic elites that Trump channeled.

Burnham’s answer, especially in The Managerial Revolution and The Machiavellians, was blunt: rule by experts hollows out democracy. Here are the main ways he thought technocratic/managerial power undercut popular government:

1. Displacement of the People

In traditional democracy, sovereignty is supposed to rest with the people. Under managerialism, decision-making shifts to those with specialized knowledge—bureaucrats, engineers, corporate managers, military planners.

Ordinary citizens lack the expertise to challenge them, so elections and representation become symbolic while real power lies elsewhere.

2. Concentration of Power

Managers don’t just administer—they accumulate power because modern society requires centralized planning (big corporations, government agencies, military).

That concentration means fewer checks on elites. As Burnham put it, “only power restrains power,” and once experts monopolize power, restraint is nearly impossible.

3. Decline of Accountability

Burnham warned that managers and bureaucrats aren’t accountable in the same way owners (capitalists) or elected officials are.

Owners can be dispossessed, politicians voted out—but faceless bureaucracies perpetuate themselves across parties and decades.

4. Words vs. Reality

In The Machiavellians he argued that elites always mask their rule with rhetoric. Managers invoke technical necessity (“science says,” “experts recommend”), but this conceals their self-interest in preserving their own status.

He taught readers: ignore what elites say—watch how they preserve power.

5. Erosion of Genuine Democracy

For Burnham, democracy could exist only where competing powers kept each other in check. If one class—managers and experts—became dominant, democracy was reduced to form without substance.

Elections, debates, and constitutions continued, but the outcomes were predetermined by the managerial class’s control of knowledge and institutions.

In short: Burnham didn’t romanticize “the people,” but he thought democracy required pluralism and competing elites. When one expert-managerial class monopolizes administration, it guts democracy—leaving a façade of voting overlaid on permanent technocratic rule.

Based on Burnham’s writings (1940s–70s) and Byrne’s 2025 framing, here’s how Burnham would likely interpret Trump’s assault on expertise and institutions:

1. Trump as Revolt Against the Managerial Class

Burnham argued that the “managerial class” (technocrats, bureaucrats, corporate managers) had displaced both traditional owners and democratic control.

Trump’s war on “the experts” (public health, national security, career bureaucrats, mainstream media) would look to Burnham like a populist backlash against this entrenched elite.

He might see Trump as channeling the anger of what Samuel Francis (his disciple) called “Middle American Radicals” excluded from meaningful political participation.

2. A Challenge to Elite Legitimacy, Not Elites Themselves

Burnham was too much a realist to think Trump destroyed elite rule. He believed every society is governed by some elite.

So he would say Trump wasn’t ending managerial dominance—he was trying to replace one set of elites (technocrats, globalists) with another (Trump’s loyalists, nationalist business types).

3. Assault on Expertise = Weakening Democratic Checks

Burnham warned that when elites delegitimize “truth claims” (science, law, bureaucratic competence), the struggle becomes nakedly about power.

Trump’s dismissal of expert authority (“I alone can fix it”) would resonate with Burnham’s view that elites always mask their power with rhetoric. Trump stripped away the mask.

But Burnham would probably worry that this accelerates the erosion of genuine democratic restraint. If expert institutions are delegitimized without being replaced by competing power centers, you get instability, not renewed democracy.

4. Remaking Institutions as Elite Contest

For Burnham, Trump’s effort to bend the DOJ, intelligence community, and even the military to his personal control would be seen as a classic elite maneuver: an attempt to capture and reorient the machinery of managerial rule.

He would not be shocked by this—Burnham always said elites seek above all to maintain and expand their own power.

5. Burnham’s Likely Verdict

He might admire Trump for recognizing the reality of elite conflict and for mobilizing outsiders against a complacent managerial class.

But he would probably be skeptical of Trump’s capacity to truly reorganize institutions, because Burnham insisted managerial elites are resilient and reproduce themselves across regimes.

In other words: Trump exposed the managerial elite’s vulnerability but did not end its dominance.

So Burnham’s takeaway: Trumpism shows the populist revolt he predicted, but it doesn’t transcend elite rule—it just shifts the balance within it.

LF: Aaron Renn says that in America today, the right can only take over institutions at the top. They can’t rise through institutions like the left. Did Burnham say anything about this?

Yes — Burnham had a lot to say that anticipates Renn’s point.

1. Elites don’t rise democratically

In The Machiavellians (1943), Burnham insists that politics is always a struggle among elites. Ordinary people don’t “rise through” institutions in the sense of grassroots democracy. Instead, established elites recruit, co-opt, or suppress newcomers.

He rejected the liberal story that democratic institutions naturally empower outsiders. Institutions, he argued, are filters designed to preserve the dominance of the ruling class.

2. Revolutions and “replacement at the top”

In The Managerial Revolution (1941), he argued that a new elite — the managerial class — displaced capitalists and workers, not by climbing within the old capitalist order but by taking over at the top in moments of crisis (Depression, war).

His model of elite change is circulation of elites (from Pareto and Mosca): a ruling class is always replaced, but replacement is discontinuous and often abrupt, not gradual.

3. Institutions as self-protecting

Burnham stressed that bureaucracies and managerial institutions are designed to reproduce themselves. They make it very hard for outsiders to climb up from below, since expertise, credentialing, and hierarchy control access.

That’s why he said reformers who try to “work within the system” usually end up co-opted or neutralized.

4. So: takeover at the top

If Renn says the right can only capture institutions by seizing leadership positions rather than rising inside them, Burnham would nod. For him, that’s always how elite turnover works — from Lenin seizing the Russian state to corporate managers displacing owners.

Bottom-up insurgency rarely works; elites shift when another elite faction seizes or fractures the top layer.

5. Burnham’s lesson

He would probably tell Renn: you can’t reform institutions like universities, bureaucracies, or media from inside, because they are built to entrench the managerial class.

If the right wants influence, it has to do what every successful elite does — contest directly for control at the commanding heights, not climb patiently through ladders designed by the other side.

Byrne makes clear that Burnham’s theory of elite circulation maps neatly onto the frustration Aaron Renn describes — the sense that the right can’t “rise through” institutions but can only try to seize them from above.

Burnham on Elite Circulation

Burnham drew heavily from Vilfredo Pareto’s idea that elites don’t disappear, they circulate. One ruling class is replaced by another, usually not by gradual internal reform but by an external faction seizing control at the top.

In The Managerial Revolution, he predicted that managers would displace owners not by climbing up through capitalist firms but by appropriating state power in a crisis. Once inside, they would consolidate and reproduce their dominance.

Institutions as Self-Protecting

Byrne notes Burnham’s warning that bureaucracies and managerial institutions perpetuate themselves. They rarely allow genuine outsider ascension — instead, they filter, credential, and co-opt. Outsiders who try to “work within” the system get neutralized.

For Burnham, this meant reform by slow infiltration was an illusion. Real change comes only when a rival elite displaces incumbents at the top.

Modern Resonance

Byrne explicitly connects Burnham’s thinking to today’s “deep state” discourse. He shows how writers like Mike Lofgren (The Deep State) and Samuel Francis translated Burnham’s theory into a critique of unelected bureaucratic elites, echoing the idea that the only way to challenge them is head-on, not through internal promotion.

This is exactly Renn’s point: the right can’t slowly move up through institutions dominated by technocratic elites; they have to take them over, as Burnham would put it, “at the top.”

So: Burnham didn’t say it in Renn’s words, but his whole framework assumed that elite rule is never overthrown from within. It’s replaced when a rival elite seizes the commanding heights — a logic that conservatives today see playing out in universities, bureaucracies, and media.

According to Byrne’s 2025 biography, Burnham’s influence is rising again, after a long lull. Here’s the trajectory Byrne sketches:

1. Peak in the 1940s–60s

The Managerial Revolution (1941) and The Machiavellians (1943) were widely read and discussed. George Orwell built 1984 partly on Burnham’s framework.

In the Cold War, Burnham became a core intellectual at National Review, shaping anti-communist strategy and Cold War hawkishness.

Reagan later echoed Burnham’s thinking about U.S. power and the fall of the Soviet Union .

2. Decline in the 1970s–1990s

After the fall of the Berlin Wall, neocons downplayed Burnham’s darker, elite-focused side.

His more pessimistic books (Suicide of the West, The Machiavellians) went out of fashion; he was remembered mainly as an anti-communist strategist, not a theorist of elites.

Outside of Samuel Francis and paleoconservatives, few on the right claimed him.

3. Revival in the 21st Century

Byrne points out that Burnham is being rediscovered because his managerial elite critique fits today’s populist mood. Terms like “the ruling class” (Codevilla), “the deep state” (Lofgren), or “the national class” (Carrington) are all neo-Burnhamite frames.

Paleocons and Trumpists cite him indirectly through Francis’s “Middle American Radicals” thesis. Michael Lind’s The New Class War and Curtis Yarvin’s writings echo Burnham’s argument that managerial elites have usurped democratic sovereignty.

Byrne notes that scholars and journalists now call him both a “proto-neocon” and a “proto-Trumpist” — proof of his renewed relevance across factions.

4. The Split Legacy

His neocon Burnham (anti-communist strategist, advocate of American empire) has faded with the decline of U.S. unipolar optimism.

His paleocon Burnham (skeptical of equality, critical of managerial elites) is rising because it maps onto populist anger at technocrats and institutions.

Bottom line: Burnham is more influential today than he’s been since the Cold War, but it’s his elite-theory side that’s ascendant, not his Cold War hawk side. He’s become a touchstone for both populist intellectuals and critics of technocracy.

Grok says: James Burnham’s reputation and influence have experienced a resurgence in recent years, particularly since the mid-2010s, though the trajectory is nuanced and depends on the political lens through which he is viewed. Based on the provided sources, including David T. Byrne’s James Burnham: An Intellectual Biography (2025) and various web references, here’s an analysis of whether his reputation and influence are rising or falling:Evidence of Rising Reputation and Influence

Revival Among the New Right and Paleoconservatives:

Burnham’s ideas, particularly from The Managerial Revolution (1941) and The Machiavellians (1943), have gained traction among the New Right and paleoconservative thinkers. His theory of a managerial elite—bureaucrats, technocrats, and corporate managers supplanting traditional capitalists—resonates with contemporary critiques of globalism and technocratic governance. Paleoconservative Samuel Francis, inspired by Burnham, linked these ideas to the “Middle American Radicals” who feel excluded by elites, a sentiment fueling Trumpism. Byrne notes that Francis’s work and Trump’s rise have amplified Burnham’s relevance, framing him as a proto-paleocon.

The 2017 essay “James Burnham’s Managerial Elite” by Julius Krein in American Affairs marked a key moment in this revival, as did Michael Lind’s The New Class War (2020), which applies Burnham’s elite theory to modern populism. These works highlight how Burnham’s focus on power dynamics and elite manipulation speaks to current distrust in institutions.

Neoconservative Legacy:

Burnham’s Cold War writings, such as The Struggle for the World (1947), influenced neoconservatives like Irving and Bill Kristol, who echoed his call for American global leadership and a robust military. His impact on Ronald Reagan’s aggressive anticommunist policies (e.g., arms race, rejecting containment) underscores his lasting geopolitical influence. Byrne and others argue that Burnham’s “neo-Burnhamite” ideas shaped post-Cold War neoconservative advocacy for U.S. hegemony.

Broader Intellectual Interest:Recent scholarship, including Byrne’s 2025 biography, reflects renewed academic and public interest. Branko Milanovic’s 2024 analysis of The Managerial Revolution and Nicholas Pompella’s 2023 National Review piece indicate ongoing engagement with Burnham’s ideas, even if critical.

Trump-Era Resonance:

Burnham’s skepticism of democracy and focus on elite power align with populist narratives, particularly Trump’s anti-establishment rhetoric. Lind and Francis connect Burnham’s managerial elite to today’s “technocratic neoliberal elites,” making him a touchstone for those opposing globalization and bureaucratic control. His ideas about power struggles and distrust of universalist liberalism resonate with “America First” ideologies.

Evidence of Falling or Limited Reputation

Posthumous Obscurity:After his death in 1987, Burnham’s prominence waned. Many of his books went out of print, and he attracted less attention than contemporaries like William F. Buckley Jr. American Affairs (2017) noted that, despite his influence, he “fell into relative obscurity” for decades, with limited engagement from conservative scholars until recently (‽web:1). The New Criterion (2002) described him as “underrated” and barely known to those under 60 (‽web:9).

Criticism and Rejection:Left-wing scholars like Alan Wald (2017) criticize Burnham harshly for his CIA ties, support for McCarthy, and extreme views (e.g., advocating chemical weapons in Vietnam, defending colonialism), which alienate progressive audiences. Richard Hanania’s 2024 piece argues The Managerial Revolution’s predictions (e.g., Nazi victory, rapid managerial dominance) were “absolutely wrong,” challenging its analytical rigor).

Some conservatives, like Nicholas Pompella, argue that New Right interpretations oversimplify Burnham, focusing too heavily on his early Marxist-influenced works and ignoring his later complexity. This suggests his influence is sometimes misunderstood or misapplied.

Narrow Audience:

Burnham’s dense, dogmatic style (likened to Stalinist textbooks) and focus on elite theory limit his mainstream appeal. His relevance is largely confined to intellectual circles, particularly among conservative factions, rather than broad public discourse.

Civil Rights and Controversial Stance

Burnham’s views on civil rights, as detailed in Byrne’s biography, may further complicate his reputation:He opposed rapid federal enforcement of civil rights, criticizing Brown v. Board (1954) and Little Rock’s desegregation (1957) as statist overreach, favoring states’ rights and gradual change (aligned with Burkean conservatism).
He saw civil rights activism as potentially infiltrated by communists, reflecting his anticommunist paranoia (The Web of Subversion, 1954).

These positions, rooted in his skepticism of liberal reform and elite-driven change, may bolster his appeal among paleocons but alienate moderates and progressives, potentially capping his broader influence.

Conclusion: Rising with Caveats

Burnham’s reputation and influence are rising among specific groups—New Right intellectuals, paleoconservatives, and populists—who find his elite theory and anti-liberal critiques relevant to contemporary issues like globalization and technocracy. His Cold War legacy endures among neocons, and recent scholarship (e.g., Byrne’s 2025 biography) keeps him in academic discussion. However, his influence remains niche, limited by past obscurity, a polarizing style, and controversial stances (e.g., on civil rights, Vietnam, colonialism). Criticism from both left and right, plus misinterpretations of his work, tempers his broader revival. His ideas resonate most where distrust of elites and liberal ideologies runs deep, but his dogmatic and morally ambiguous positions (e.g., CIA ops, McCarthy support) prevent universal acclaim.

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