1/ Every political order must answer the oldest question of all: how to restrain the conflict between the few and the many.
Patrick Deneen has become one of the most prominent mainstream critics of the liberal order. His widely discussed book “Why Liberalism Failed” contrasted the promises of the tradition with the evident decay of our present.
His more recent “Regime Change: Toward a Postliberal Future” advances the argument by proposing remedies, with particular emphasis on the recovery of the mixed constitution, an ancient device for reconciling classes and preserving civic stability.
2/ Deneen situates his argument within a much older problem, one that the Greeks themselves faced. Their cities were repeatedly consumed by class struggle, oligarchs contending with democrats, at times resorting to the annihilation of rivals. From such experience came the first attempts to understand politics as the art of restraining conflict by cultivating the virtues of each class while suppressing their vices.
The wealthy enjoyed refinement and leisure, yet often succumbed to arrogance and selfishness. The poor, hardened by necessity, lived with frugality and endurance, yet remained vulnerable to envy and demagoguery. Aristotle, Polybius, and others proposed the mixed constitution as the answer: a structure balancing these forces, or a broad middle element capable of stabilizing extremes.
3/ Modern liberalism emerged centuries later with the rejection of feudal privileges. Yet it did not empower the many. Instead, it elevated a new elite of the “industrious and rational,” entrusted with directing society while shielding their activity from interference by the masses. Early liberals hoped that rising prosperity would reconcile the majority to this minority rule. When material progress came, later liberals sought to extend it into the moral sphere, dissolving local attachments in favor of national or even universal solidarity.
John Stuart Mill, writing in the nineteenth century, gave this tendency its most complete expression. He regarded inherited custom as a form of despotism, advocated plural voting to weight politics toward the educated, and proposed the “harm principle” as the measure of law. He even justified coercion abroad, insisting that “progress” must be imposed upon peoples incapable of valuing it without compulsion.
4/ Marxism offered another progressive doctrine, one that proclaimed the many as the motor of change. Yet even here, faith in the working class faltered. Marx himself admitted that elites would have to initiate measures in the workers’ name. Lenin created a vanguard. Later Marxists, such as the Frankfurt School, abandoned the proletariat altogether. What united liberal and Marxist traditions was not their attitude to progress, but their dismissal of the classical concern with balance between classes. The ancient ideal of a mixed constitution was treated as antiquarian.
Deneen argues that today’s liberal elite is of a new type, unprecedented in form and outlook. Its authority does not rest upon land, arms, or hereditary station, but upon fungible skills certified by credentials. Its ideology is hostile to hierarchy, even as its members reproduce privilege for their children. It cloaks its dominance in the language of meritocracy, wielding Mill’s harm principle against remnants of inherited order. Its command rests not only on the state but on corporations, media, and universities. It is what James Burnham described in “The Managerial Revolution”: a class of specialists, managers, and technicians whose power derives from skills in finance, data manipulation, and bureaucratic administration.
5/ This elite differs from its predecessors in another respect. Aristocracies once recognized that inherited status entailed obligations to the community. Today’s meritocrats believe they earned their place entirely through talent and effort, and so they feel no duty toward those below them. Their loyalty extends only to their children, whom they advance through marriage, private schooling, and admissions gamesmanship. Their education system serves as both recruitment mechanism and instrument of dissolution, stripping away tradition while training recruits to navigate a world without guardrails. Dissent is permitted only when directed against the past, never against the regime itself.
The hypocrisy is plain in the treatment of small businesses during the Covid lockdowns. Multinational corporations remained open and thrived, while family shops and local establishments were ordered shut, many of them permanently. What was proclaimed as a public safeguard in practice meant the ruin of the weak and the enrichment of the strong. Such moments expose the inversion at the core of liberal equality: not a leveling of conditions, but a means of disciplining the many. The harm principle, already invoked earlier, has been twisted from a safeguard of liberty into a charter for grievance, wielded by favored groups to enforce conformity.
6/ Detached from place, today’s elites cannot comprehend the ordinary man’s loyalty to his people and his soil. They urge displaced workers to move to Silicon Valley, farmers dispossessed of ancestral fields to “learn to code.” Their obtuseness recalls Marie Antoinette’s “let them eat cake,” though they lack even her dim awareness of what befell her. Their hostility to rootedness aligns them with uprooted migrants, whose labor they exploit and whose presence they use to discipline native dissent. For this ruling class, “elite” itself has become a term of contempt. Aristocracies once called themselves the best men. Our rulers are despised even as they claim legitimacy in the name of expertise.
The defense of expertise is central to the modern order. Plato had floated philosopher-kings as a thought experiment, but modernity made the authority of experts its cornerstone. Administration was professionalized, governance rationalized, and the cult of science enthroned. Yet science never dictates policy. Facts require judgment, and judgments belong to men with interests. Covid-era injunctions to “trust the science” revealed the dogma at work. Aristotle long ago argued that common sense often judges better than expertise: the inhabitant of a house knows more of its strengths and flaws than the architect who designed it. Today’s populists echo this truth when they resist administrators who redesign their lives from afar.
7/ Specialization, the foundation of modern productivity, has narrowed minds as well as labor. The expert knows more about less, mistaking technical proficiency for wisdom. Our managerial class excels at actuarial calculation and risk modeling, but this is not human merit in any higher sense. It has produced no Goethes or Shakespeares, only clever functionaries. The expansion of organization has been quantitative, not qualitative. By contrast, the common sense of the people, distilled in custom and proverbs, is broader and wiser than the fragmented knowledge of specialists. It is also more democratic, rooted in lived experience rather than technocratic fiat.
The liberal elite insists that talent is private property, that rewards are personal entitlements, and that obligations to the wider community are voluntary. This has created an elite without stewardship, one that proclaims concern for the poor in abstraction while evading all particular responsibility. Deneen calls for a renewal of elite formation, one grounded in service to the common good, tasked with preserving family, community, work, and cultural order. The present rulers cannot be persuaded into this role; they must be replaced.
8/ The rise of populism signals this necessity. It is not the work of established conservatism but of ordinary men alienated from a way of life destroyed by elites and their clients. Its most visible figure, Donald Trump, has voiced grievances more than he has articulated a program. He has failed to build institutions or nurture a capable leadership, but he remains the emblem of popular defiance. The conditions that produced him are undeniable. Once, an American of modest means could sustain a family, own a home, and participate in civic life. That world was dissolved not by poverty but by structural choices that favored the few at the expense of the many.
Deneen proposes a political economy that restores balance: wages sufficient for families, constraints on corporate power, limits on destabilizing change, and policies that favor stability over wealth concentration. But he also insists that the people must reform themselves, overcoming divorce, addiction, consumer debt, and civic withdrawal. A new regime must elevate the many as well as restrain the few.
9/ Immigration remains decisive. Liberal elites embrace it not only as cheap labor but as a weapon against native resistance. It secures their wealth while dissolving the cohesion of those who might oppose them.
Here Deneen falters. He hesitates to confront the central fact of our time: demographic change. Instead he imagines solidarity across group lines, as if economic interests could dissolve civilizational difference. This is illusion, and it invalidates his project. A postliberal order that refuses to recognize the people as a historical and ethnocultural body is no order at all.
The truth is plain. The White native stock must fight its own battles. Demographic transformation is not a policy detail but a reconstitution of the nation itself. It ensures conflict will not vanish into harmony but will harden along ethnocultural and civilizational lines.
Liberalism will not disappear of its own accord. It must be broken and driven down from total regime to faction, from command to contest. Only then will politics be restored as struggle: the few held accountable by the many, and elites compelled to justify their place as stewards rather than predators.
• • •
Missing some Tweet in this thread? You can try to
force a refresh
Professor Tenney Frank confirmed what Livy, Cicero, Seneca, Tacitus, Juvenal, and countless others knew millennia ago.
Rome’s decline began with racial replacement; everything else was merely its consequence.
Rome fell because it ceased to be Roman.
Civilization is shaped by many forces, yet its foundation is ALWAYS biological. It is the living soil from which culture rises, the inherited substance made visible in the world.
Change the people, and you change the culture; change the culture, and the civilization that rests upon it is transformed.
Is the Harare of today the same city that once stood as Salisbury, the capital of Rhodesia?
What is the underlying factor behind its collapse? Demography.
The city has been remade because those who now inhabit it are not the people who built it, nor the people who carried it through its years of strength and prosperity.
1/ In his most famous work, Politics, Aristotle shows that democracy and tyranny express the same governing principle. Both rule by flattery and elevate the weakest. Democracy relies upon on women and slaves; tyranny survives through the importation of foreigners.
2/ Aristotle writes that women and slaves “delight in being flattered” because they stand outside deliberative authority within the city. Their position is defined by obedience rather than command, participation rather than authorship of order. Drawn to rulers who substitute indulgence for rule, they respond to authority that reassures rather than directs. Where command withdraws, favor takes its place.
When authority no longer gives form to appetite, political influence ceases to follow judgment shaped by rule and experience. It gathers instead around those most responsive to praise and permission. Power thus shifts toward men who govern by accommodation, not because they impose order, but because they affirm desire. In such conditions, rule no longer elevates those capable of command, but those most easily mobilized by favor, and the character of public life adjusts itself accordingly.
3/ This inversion reaches the city at its root because authority is detached from ancestry and from the ordered succession through which rule is sustained over time. Those least capable of judgment are raised into power, while those formed within ancestral peoples shaped for command are restrained or rendered politically ineffective. Authority no longer follows inherited capacity refined through habituation, but drifts toward dispositions that are compliant and dependent.
Public life ceases to preserve the qualities required for durable rule and instead favors traits compatible with immediate control. The city no longer renews the lineages from which rulers must arise, nor does it transmit the habits necessary for command across generations. Weakness advances into authority, strength becomes a liability, and power maintains itself by suppressing the kind of men capable of replacing it. What presents itself as stability is in fact the managed exhaustion of the city’s ruling potential.
1/ “Man in his highest and noblest capacities is Nature, and bears in himself her awful character. His dreadfulness is the fertile soil from which alone all greatness has grown.” —Nietzsche
Let us consider the ancient Greeks and the excellence of their biopolitical order.
2/ The world of the ancient Hellenes, the Greeks, did not emerge ex nihilo from a vacuum. It was a continuation of what had come before, developing from older Indo-European traditions and merging with the early peoples of Europe, among whom kinship and ritual shaped the first structure of life. The Greeks then gave this inheritance a conscious form, turning what had been custom into reflection and creating a world in which descent and law became the foundations of order.
Alfred North Whitehead wrote that Western philosophy is a series of footnotes to Plato, and in a wider sense Western civilization, “civilization” being the key term here, begins with the Greeks. It was among them that the European mind first sought to bring life into accord with nature and to discern within existence the principles that govern man and the world.
Their political life, like that of all pre-modern peoples, was never abstract. It was the organized expression of necessity, shaped by the demands of survival and the discipline of inheritance. Power was understood as the means to preserve life, and life itself was secured through the unbroken continuity of descent.
The polis, the city-state, was born from the family, as the family was born from the necessity of reproduction and protection. Aristotle records that the household arose from the union of man and woman and expanded through the relation of parent to child and master to servant until it became the village and finally the city. The political community was therefore the natural enlargement of the household, an extension of biological and moral kinship.
The city carried forward what the family had begun, ensuring the passage of life and estate, the keeping of ancestral law, and the remembrance of those from whom its order had descended. The citizen was not a faceless entry in a meaningless voter register but a living participant in the common life of the polis. The Greek word idiotes, from which “idiot” derives, referred to one who lived only for himself and took no part in the affairs of the city. The true citizen was his opposite, bearing the blood of the founders and sharing in the duties that sustained their order. The civic life of Greece rested on this continuity of ancestry, without which there could be neither culture nor state.
Numa Denis Fustel de Coulanges later made explicit what the ancients themselves took for granted. In “The Ancient City,” he explained that the earliest political institutions were born from the religion of the household. The hearth, the ancestral tomb, and the domestic cult were the first sources of authority. When many households gathered beneath a common altar, the city arose as a sacred extension of family life. Aristotle described the process by which the polis grows naturally out of the household, and Fustel showed that this natural process was also a religious one, for it united the living with their forebears in an unbroken order of memory and obligation.
3/ The principle of descent defined citizenship at every level, and it was the ancient Greeks who, like in so many other things, first codified what we now take for granted in the Western conception of the citizen. Herodotus, in his “Histories,” described the Hellenes as men “of the same blood and speech, who share the same temples and sacrifices, and the same customs.” In this understanding, ancestry and worship, language and custom formed a single unity. To be a citizen was to belong to a people bound by descent and by rite. The polis was not an artificial creation imposed upon men but an organic expression of inherited being.
Athens and Sparta embodied dual sides of this Greek Welthanschauung in distinct form.
During the Athenian Golden Age, the great statesman Pericles expanded participation in public life while restricting citizenship to those born of two Athenian parents. Equality was confined to those who already belonged by birth. The freedom of the city depended upon cohesion, and cohesion required the preservation of ancestral descent.
Civic order rested on ancestral patrimony rather than residence or belief. This law reflected the Athenian understanding that their democracy, unlike the modern system of mass enfranchisement, could exist only within the bounds of a shared people. At its height, less than a tenth of the male population held the honor of citizenship. Generosity within the polis required a clear sense of who that people were, and correspondingly, who they were not. Foreign skill and commerce were welcomed, though always with caution, yet the political life of the city remained an inheritance guarded by those of Athenian blood. In this balance between openness and exclusivity, the Athenians preserved both the integrity of their laws and the continuity of their kind.
Sparta gave this principle a harder outline. The laws attributed to the Dorian lawgiver Lycurgus forged a people shaped by martial discipline and selective breeding. The Spartiates were citizens by birth and warriors by vocation, their lives ordered toward service to the state. They were forbidden from commerce, manual labor, and the pursuit of luxury, for such pursuits were thought to corrupt character and weaken resolve.
Their existence was one of perpetual preparation, devoted to strength and the defense of the common good. Education began in infancy, when the weak were set aside, and continued through a regimen that bound each man to the polis through the discipline of the agoge. The women were trained for strength and composure, for the bearing of healthy offspring was regarded as a sacred duty. Every institution, from the household to the army, for the army was the body of citizens, served the same end: the preservation of vigor and constancy of spirit. Through this unity of purpose, a small and austere people maintained their independence against powers greater in number and wealth.
Religion gave visible form to the same foundation. Each city revered its ancestral gods, whose worship was bound to the life of the people. The civic altars rose from the hearths of the household, and the festivals that gathered the citizens were acts of remembrance joining the living with the dead. The Olympic Games expressed this same spirit on a broader scale, uniting the Hellenes in celebration of shared descent while excluding the foreigner. To compete in any of the four great Panhellenic games was to be recognized as Greek by blood. The exclusion was not an act of hostility but of reverence and delineation, for the festival renewed the sacred kinship of those who shared a common origin and destiny.
This same bond of origin guided the Greek resistance to Persia. When the invasion came, the consciousness of shared blood and faith gave the Hellenes a unity stronger than empire. The stand of the Spartan king Leonidas at Thermopylae and the Athenian-led victories at Salamis and Plataea preserved more than territory or power. They defended a way of life founded upon descent and courage. Herodotus saw in these deeds the triumph of men who knew themselves as a distinct people and refused to vanish into the anonymity of empire.
1/ America was conceived and carried out as an ethnonational project.
It was a Republic built by Europeans for their posterity, the continuation of their people and their civilization on new soil.
Not an idea, but a people made sovereign.
Let us discuss.
2/ The absurd notion that “America is an idea” is one that we hear often. It is peddled by the self-hating and the resentful alike, repeated by those too narrow of mind or too governed by ethnic interest to confront the plain historical record.
It has become a creed for the deracinated within and the alien now among them, a false consolation for those who refuse to see that nations are born of blood and soil, and of the will of a people conscious of who they are and of their destiny.
The line of attack usually proceeds along familiar lines.
It is said that America is a political and moral project founded on abstract principles such as liberty, equality, individual rights, and self-government. From this premise, it is concluded that anyone who professes belief in these ideas may become fully “American,” irrespective of ancestral identity.
This argument, of course, is not historical but philosophical in character. It is what may be called Creedal Universalism, the most pervasive of the myths that sustain the “idea” interpretation.
Creedal Universalism presents America as a proposition, an abstraction, divorced from the people who created it. It asserts that the Republic should be defined by principle rather than lineage, that allegiance to an ideal replaces the bonds of kinship and heritage.
It is an a priori doctrine, that is, derived from theory rather than experience, born from the Enlightenment’s rational philosophy rather than from the lived reality of a people.
In this view, America’s founders become apostles of a universal creed, and their nation only the first vessel of a global moral enterprise.
It is a moral argument, not a historical one, for it speaks of what America should mean rather than what it was, and still is.
Its purpose is plain: to detach American identity, born European and forged White (ethnogenesis), from its ancestry, and to make belonging a matter of sentiment rather than birthright.
3/ The second and nearly as common claim may be called the Immigrant Nation Mythology: “we are a nation of immigrants.”
It is not philosophical but narrative, appealing to emotion rather than reason, and built upon a shallow reading of history; a confusion of the immigrant with the settler, of arrival with creation.
Here the story is told that America has always been a “nation of immigrants,” that its true purpose was to transcend the limits of race and origin, and to serve as a universal refuge for all mankind.
The Founders are recast as imperfect apostles of diversity, men whose racial prejudice is acknowledged only to magnify the supposed nobility of their universal vision. Thus the narrative preserves its own contradiction: the Founders are denounced as racists, yet credited with conceiving a nation meant for everyone.
Settlement and conquest are presented not as the work of a people creating a continuation of European civilization upon new soil, but as moral failings to be redeemed through inclusion, a sin to be eternally atoned for. The Republic’s European foundation is treated as a temporary stage in a broader human drama, a prelude to the arrival of all peoples.
What began as a historical reality, the transplantation of Europe itself across the Atlantic, is retold as a myth of perpetual arrival in which immigration becomes a sacred rite of renewal.
This view gained strength after 1965, when the old demographic order was dismantled and diversity was enthroned as the new civic faith.
The absolute degeneracy of the modern West captured in a single scene.
An Afghan invader, scheduled for deportation months ago, sexually assaults a young Irish girl while living in luxury at public expense.
The so-called “refugee center” where he is housed is in truth a commandeered hotel in the heart of Dublin, packed with over two thousand foreign men of fighting age, fed, clothed, and sheltered by the very people they are displacing.
The state imports these men, parades their “diversity” as virtue, and compels the native population to fund its own subjugation through colonization and slow demographic extinction.
The parasite contributes nothing, produces nothing, yet is held up as a symbol of progress while the native Irish are told that resistance is not only hateful but illegal.
Outside, the people finally rise, and the police, funded by those they oppress, form a cordon around the invader’s quarters, defending not Ireland but the treachery committed against it.