In a letter to his friend Friedrich Niethammer in 1806, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel described Napoleon as he watched the emperor ride triumphantly through Jena following his victory over the Prussians as “a world soul on horseback.”

At rare moments in history, certain men are to be seen wielding destiny in their hands. One can’t help but stand back and appreciate as Providence bends to his will. “It is a truly wonderful sensation,” Hegel writes, “to see such an individual, who, concentrating on one point while seated on a horse, stretches over the world and dominates it.”

Two centuries later, the world may be witness to another such figure. Not only will the early 21^st century be remembered as The Trump Era, but the Trump name is forever inscribed on the annals of global history. Whether one finds the man admirable or not, it cannot be denied that Donald Trump is a force of nature.

Those who have witnessed Trump’s meteoric rise—from his initial descent down the golden escalator at Trump Tower to his vindication in the 2024 election, despite impeachments, felony convictions, and assassination attempts—know that Trump’s triumph defies all previous models in American politics. It could not have been easily calculated, graphed, or modeled within the confines of any policy think tank. Those who fail to understand this triumph fail to read the spirit of the age.

Conquest is the oldest of historical realities, and contrary to what our weak and degenerate elites would like us to believe, history is far from over. The return of Trump heralds the return of real politics. This includes a return to normal political forms, such as the high-low versus middle mechanism put forth by Bertrand de Jouvenel in his work, On Power. Liberalism—far from being a force for decentralization and peace—bends inextricably towards hyper-centralization and chronic conflict through which the elite managerial class (CEOs, bureaucrats, bankers) enrich themselves, the poor are pacified with benefits, and the middle class is crushed under the tax burden that sustains this alliance.

In the first chapter of his Decline of the West, Oswald Spengler laments contemporary historians who falsely equate republican factions with modern populist movements. Caesar championed the populares, while Brutus and Cato defended the oligarchy. In a modern American context, the middle class faces a decadent elite allied with the criminal underclass. Their only hope lies in rallying behind a monarchical figure like Trump. And just as Napoleon and Caesar emerged as products of their age, Trump appears to be an inevitable outcome of our own.

The works of Italian philosopher Julius Evola, though brimming with esoteric symbolism and arcane metaphysical concepts, offer a historical framework that transcends the superficiality of modern politics. Evola sets forth a framework for Europe’s revival by rejecting democratic and materialist reform, advocating instead for a hierarchical, spiritually grounded Imperium, a vision he develops in works such as Revolt Against the Modern World, Pagan Imperialism, and Men Among the Ruins. Imperium is less a political formula than a clarion call to resist the forces of devolution that then beset modern Europe, instead summoning a return to a pre-modern aristocracy that is both spiritually and culturally invigorated. Evola, admittedly, can be dangerous in the wrong hands; but the discerning reader seeking to overcome the chaos of modernity may also find an instructive voice in Evola.

Central to his philosophy is the distinction between “solar” and “lunar” archetypes, two polar forces that embody the highest and lowest expressions of civilization. The “solar” represents the realm of hierarchical authority, heroism, and transcendence. The reference to the sun has to do with it being the generative source for all life. Whereas the sun produces its own light, the moon is a purely reflective entity. The “lunar” archetype is associated with the materialistic, passive, and dependent forces of modernity. Evola recognized “solar” qualities as the lifeblood of any thriving civilization, whereas the “lunar” qualities signal a cultural decline, one that forfeits sovereignty for material gain.

The nature of solar power is derived from an inner strength or spiritual charisma that legitimizes a ruler’s position in the absence of mass approval. This power draws upon the archetypes of the warrior or priest, whose authority is exercised for a sacred purpose. Lunar power, however, is horizontal and bureaucratic, flowing from public opinion, institutional inertia, and utilitarian ideals. Democracy and socialism, Evola argues, epitomize this lunar force—systems that cater to the lowest common denominator, promising material security and social equality while hollowing out the noble aspects that once gave power its true legitimacy.

Over time, politics in a “liberal democracy” invariably sinks to flatter the lowest human denominator. Whether owing to the relentless expansion of the franchise, the propaganda peddled by the mass media, the nature of a democracy that selects for power-driven but ignoble individuals the way we assess our leaders is detached from true public service. Instead of assessing leaders by their virtue or courage to act decisively, we evaluate them by their sound bites or, worse, the nebulous “vibes” they radiate. This fixation reflects a fundamentally feminine approach to understanding human nature.

The average woman, for example, evaluates her fellow women based on the quality of “niceness,” which in the end is just a way to measure how non-competitive a woman is in her interactions with the opposite sex. Women generally prefer the company of those who are not competitive. Conversely, the average man evaluates his peers by a standard of competence—specifically, how competitive their skill sets are. Owing to the prevailing feminist mindset, women are encouraged to view men as they do themselves, applying a feminine framework to assess male behavior. Inevitably, they discover that men prioritize competence over niceness, which they often, as a result of such training, find distasteful. The friction stemming from this distaste has seeped into the political culture of the West.

“Being nice” is not a virtue, but the path of those politically homeless who not only lack a stable set of principles to which they hold strong but also squirm at the thought of ever being so determined as to leverage power on behalf of one’s principles. For this type, first principles are muddled by lofty, idealistic abstractions and disingenuous sophistry. Lunar politics, quite detached from any organic way of being, are reduced to some imagined niceness and “whether or not someone is mean.” Our discourse has adopted the characteristics of this latter conception. 

It is little wonder that in America the key demographics that remain drawn to Democratic messaging are childless women and effeminate men. While patriots indulge in post-election schadenfreude, a chorus of feminist harpies channel the spirit of Lysistrata, vowing sex-strikes in a counter-intuitively chastening display of revolt. These women sit atop a pile of civilizational ash as they gloat like petulant children. One suspects that they simply desire an excuse to cry about more personal troubles, perhaps rooted in messy heartbreaks and grievances against their father, more so than in anything Donald Trump has ever said or done. Their histrionics are ultimately unsurprising, given that they belong to the most medicated demographic in the nation.

As for the Beta males, those pale shadows of masculinity have allied themselves with the shrews and tragically dysphoric. Whether due to some lack of inherited wisdom, an evolutionary maladaptation, or a failure to thrive according to natural social norms, they display an emotional instability, social awkwardness, and an unnecessary reliance on “scientific” expressions and credentialism—all of which are symptomatic of the inability to adjust to the demands of modernity. Uneasy with any form of masculinity that isn’t self-flagellating, these types refered to themselves during the late election as white “dudes” for Harris.

The enemy we are up against is less a coherent political movement and more a breeding program that selects for the most maladaptive traits—those innate, dysgenic components that corrupt the human spirit and hasten our collapse into primordial slime. Its most rabid belligerents are the unfulfilled and unwanted—homosexuals, spinsters, and other embittered malcontents—a coalition at war with nature for cursing them so cruelly. And there are plenty of lemmings to fill those pews.

The politics of this motley crew veer inexorably toward civilizational suicide. This is a party that exalts abortion, child mutilation, and pornography as sacramental rites—one that offers vasectomies at its national convention. It is a sterile crusade, incapable of creation, adept only at perversion. Like Saturn devouring his own children, the left is a parasitic entity that derives its power not from any inherent vitality but by sapping the remnants of a culture it despises. Lacking aspiration for organic growth, they revel in being agents of entropy. As society limps toward a slow, sickly degeneration, the only recourse for the regeneration and growth of this movement lies in the endless importation of the Third World.

Power, once anchored in higher ideals, has splintered into the chaotic egalitarianism of a mass ruled by its basest appetites. This in Evola’s view, signals the supplanting of the heroic, principled elite by the whims of those easily distracted, impulsive, and manipulated. Still, one cannot help but be reassured that our countrymen retain a measure of discernment to distinguish noblesse oblige from all forms of pretense. It is precisely against this backdrop of crude affectation—complete with the devilish cackles of a coked-out hyena of a presidential candidate and appeals to “black girl magic” —that leadership may yet reassert itself.

In the lunar phase of civilization, Evola observed, only a select few men—those he called the “men among the ruins”—possess the solar qualities necessary to ignite the restoration of a golden age. These men stand as bulwarks amid the fossilized remains of a decayed lunar order, embodying the warrior’s ethos and spiritual fortitude resistant to the fetters of modernity. This realignment includes a reawakening of natural polarities. As men seek to embody the solar virtues, women will organically assume the complementary lunar qualities—not as performative behavior, but as a natural compulsion awakened by the gravitas of the solar man. The solar activates the lunar, and women will follow when men reestablish themselves as the stabilizing forces to feminine instability. The resurgence of these solar virtues is essential to reclaiming the natural order and arresting civilization’s descent into chaos.

Even under the colossal weight of propaganda campaigns waged by the eunuch class, human nature remains unyielding. Millenia of cultural and instinctual drives are etched deep into the marrow of our being. Since the dawn of civilization, men have fought and bled, driven by an eternal creed that to die for one’s tribe is the highest honor. It is an enduring male fantasy to march beneath a banner, shoulder to shoulder with the infantry, defying insurmountable odds out of love for the soil and the women and children entrusted to their defense. To wage war on this indomitable spirit is to wage war on nature itself.

Yet, the Democrats instruct us to settle for less; to narrow our aspirations for a large family, for homeownership, for living in a neighborhood that is not held under siege by Venezuelan gangs. Let us quell ambition altogether, content to cluster at the public trough, noses buried in the ever-thinning pap. Like Tantalus, we glimpse at the fruits of higher things, only to turn away, preferring mud to the heavens.

Democrats despise all the things that set fire to the masculine spirit: launching rockets, lifting weights, the UFC, gas-guzzling cars, shooting guns, or charging forward under fire with a fist raised out of love for a country we wish to make great again. The highest ambition for men today is embodied in the faux masculinity of Tim Walz— knuckleheaded, pudgy, and enfeebled, devoted to little more than Esports and “white-guy tacos.” Weak, spiritually neutered, and deracinated, he lacks attachment to any higher ideals. His identity is thus defined by little more than his consumption habits. Like a reed bending to every gust of cultural wind, the beta male is bound by his nature to cravenly signal fealty to the dominant narrative in exchange for status and scraps of social validation. Unable to conform to anything beyond the current “vibes,” a movement of beta males cannot be sustained.

America was presented with two opposing futures: a multi-planetary American Empire and being part of a global Favela. Whereas the Democratic Party venerates mediocrity, the populist right dares to dream big. That is why Trump holds such magnetic appeal among the men of this country who find themselves dispossessed of the inheritance promised by their forebears. Trump, whose leadership qualities transcend the mandate of the state, champions a rogue elite locked in battle with the leviathan. The results of this election demonstrate that American greatness, the fire that built the modern world, demands it be rekindled.

As Evola writes in Men Among the Ruins, “It remains to be seen which and how many men, in spite of it all, still stand upright among so many ruins, in order that they may make this task their own.” Trump is one such man, standing on the precipice of decline with his fist raised in defiance. The moment Trump was shot, Fukayama’s “last man” died. Having assembled a competent counter-elite that defies the lunar entities—bureaucracy, media, and academia—that define political legitimacy as America slides into post-constitutionalism, Trumpism beckons us toward a lunar eclipse.

We now return to real politics as a Clausewitzian conception of “war by other means.” Like war, politics is fit for the masculine temperament. There can be no leadership without a degree of virility. Genius, according to its literal Latin root, represents the masculine creative force, the generative spark of life. Ironically, Silicon Valley is the final frontier for radical masculinity capable of disrupting the system. They may be tech nerds, but their autistic dedication to craft and the entrepreneurial ambition required to launch a tech startup now threatens the prevailing lunar order.

Like Trump, Musk possesses a frontier spirit that is deliberately obscured by an entrenched network of politicians, corporate elites, and petty bureaucratic tyrants. Ever since it claimed his son, the rogue billionaire has made it his life’s mission to defeat the “woke mind virus.” The two most powerful Penn alumni on earth—Trump and Musk—are denied recognition by their alma mater. Yet, the school proudly boasts its affiliation with Biden, a man whose very presence is emblematic of the rotting, feminized regime.

Like Musk, those born with a will to conquer and transcend our natural limits find themselves stifled by a shadow of mediocrity at an early age, depriving men of the very capacity to conceive of the great deeds that would likely have seemed routine to our grandfathers—whether through gender ideology demanding they sacrifice their own gonads before the idol of narcissism, or the uninspiring public school system that pressures parents to medicate young boys displaying symptoms of “ADHD,” symptoms so vague that I doubt if there’s a male child in this country who doesn’t have it.

Even in an age of small souls, the desire to look upon greatness—or the faintest semblance of it—remains essential to man’s nature. As G.K. Chesterton observed in The Everlasting Man, “He who has no sympathy with myths has no sympathy with men.” I am increasingly convinced that any man who refuses to support Trump at this juncture does so not out of principled opposition, but because the power he embodies causes them to feel inadequate rather than inspired. They will never appreciate the hand of Providence that has woven its intricate design over these past nine years — culminating in a comeback that is nothing short of mythic. Truly, Trump’s life was spared for a reason; a prophecy has taken form before our eyes.

Much like the American Revolution, which began in the taverns of New England, any movement to reclaim this nation will be led by young men—driven to restore this land to her former glory. I know several men my age who are imbued with this spirit, and I can confidently predict that statues will one day be raised in their honor.

The arc of history bends ever toward our side. We possess the human capital—intelligent, driven zealots, all under 40, who grow more radical with each passing day. The Greeks were a hundred great men, the Romans were a hundred great men, the Florentines were a hundred great men. If our boys constituted even one percent of the population, victory would be assured. We are a nation of winners, and we intend to remain such.