Kingmakers, Chaos, and the Cult of the Brawler

The modern political arena is a spectacle of self-importance and hollow grandeur. The emperor may strut, albeit unclothed, but the greater tragedy lies with his subjects—eager to barter their dignity for the false promise of utopian bliss. Politicians, no longer required to display any semblance of virtue or depth, have become mere actors, indulging the whims of the crowd. Their aspirations are clear: elitism, seclusion behind marble pillars where their policies, feeble and dressed as benevolence, cannot be questioned.

The art of statesmanship, that rare blend of wisdom, justice, and moral fortitude, has faded into oblivion. Immorality signed its death warrant. A true statesman wields the discernment to uphold justice, reward the virtuous, and confront evil. Today, however, those once-gilded halls resonate only with hollow echoes, remnants of when men of valor commanded both respect and loyalty, their virtue rooted in unshakeable principles.

When feminism marched to the Capitol, it fractured the heart of patriotism—the protection of beauty, freedom, and life—a reckless insurrection that is yet to prompt a hearing.

Long gone are the days when statesmen bore the mettle to defend civilization itself, standing against any threat with courage undimmed. The crumbling vestiges of Western civilization lean precariously on these bygone pillars, a reminder of when power was tempered by honor. Such men did not flinch at the cost of courage; they led from the front, fought with moral conviction, and wore their virtue as both shield and banner. Their legacy was one intertwined with religion, now unfashionable and largely forgotten.

Statesmanship has been dying a slow death, eroding as it defers its duty to those it was meant to safeguard and support. With weaker vessels assuming political office, roles that once demanded masculine strength have become effeminized. This truth is often obscured by a facade of strength—merely postured outrage and insecurity. When feminism marched to the Capitol, it fractured the heart of patriotism—the protection of beauty, freedom, and life—a reckless insurrection that is yet to prompt a hearing.

What happens when the fetid stench of the political mire overpowers even the thickest veneer of promises? Starved, disenfranchised, and disillusioned, where can a people turn? When hope is drained, and trust is shattered, the era of brawlers begins. These figures, devoid of pedigreed finesse, emerge from the fog as unexpected champions of disenchanted masses.

These political outsiders are armed with a will to tackle urgent issues. They have gained favor among a disillusioned populace, awakening to the realization that the polished veneer and hollow virtue-signaling of political elites have yielded little more than soaring taxes, inflation, and censorship. These elites, in their pursuit of self-preservation, have fostered societies rife with mistrust and a fading reverence for ivory towers. Enter the brawlers: purveyors of raw sincerity amid chaos. They resonate with the common man, knowing the price of bread and milk, wielding words stripped of pretense. They welcome conflict, embracing political incorrectness and daring to prod at the sorest points. Driven by passion and charisma, they connect with the masses, born out of desperation and sustained by their promise as a foil to a regime that has grown insipid.

Yet, while these brawlers ignite excitement and offer fleeting relief, their reigns are invariably ephemeral. In the end, they, too, will disappoint those who heralded them as saviors. When the fervor subsides, people must confront the sobering reality that their true chains are not wrought by political figures alone but by the deeper bondage of sin and idolatrous worship. The ruins around them are the grim outcome of this disordered devotion.

The Biblical story in 1 Samuel 8 provides a prescient warning: Israel demanded a king, not to uphold virtue but to mimic the pagan nations around them. Samuel’s protest fell on deaf ears; the people wanted a leader to fight their battles. God granted their wish, but not without a forewarning—they would lose more than they gained. Their king would seize their sons, daughters, land, and wealth, all for the privilege of being ruled. The haunting capstone: “In that day, you will cry out for relief from the king you have chosen, but the Lord will not answer you.”

America’s ailments—political and economic—stem from a refusal to crown Christ as King, choosing instead the idol of state. Tyranny thrives where Christ’s kingship is rejected, where divine order is shunned for the ease of statism.

Election cycles, by nature, are myopic, driven by a thirst for immediate reprieve rather than long-term vision. Christians, however, hold a singular opportunity to rise above such transience—to take responsibility for building beyond the present.

Few consider the arduous task of self-governance under God as the bulwark against tyranny. Inflated expectations of what the state ought to provide ensure that true liberty never takes root.

The State’s legitimate role, determined by God, is circumscribed: to punish evil and uphold good, never to overstep into realms where divine prerogatives reign. When the State overreaches, dictating morality or redefining justice, it becomes a false god. Citizens who comply with such overreach are equally complicit in this idolatry.

The path to true freedom begins not at the ballot box but with repentance. The remedy for tyranny lies in an individual and collective turning away from sin and a recognition of God as supreme, whose law alone brings true freedom. Election cycles, by nature, are myopic, driven by a thirst for immediate reprieve rather than long-term vision. Christians, however, hold a singular opportunity to rise above such transience—to take responsibility for building beyond the present. This means fostering and raising men who are self-governed, anchored in virtue, and equipped to lead others toward genuine liberty, where good is rewarded and evil meets its due reckoning.

Reviving statesmanship requires the cultivation of virtue and the elevation of men whose resolve is not seduced by the trappings of office but tempered by its trials. These leaders will stand firm against disarmament, excessive taxation, and censorship; they will resist overreach into public health, education, and worship. They will uphold the sanctity of private property and refuse to manufacture crimes for control’s sake. They will reject the siren song of identity politics, barring effeminacy from undermining their ranks. Sovereignty will not be bartered to distant bureaucracies, nor will they endorse the redefinition of marriage or the slaughter of infants. They will hold the line, not for power’s allure, but for the higher cause: the good of man and the glory of God.

As C.S. Lewis aptly wrote through King Lune, true kingship demands being “...the first in every desperate attack and last in every desperate retreat, and when there’s hunger in the land (as must be now and then in bad years), to wear finer clothes and laugh louder over a scantier meal than any man in the land.” Such men are the salve to tyranny and the stewards of civilization’s renewal.