The week that Donald Trump returned to the White House, he stood on stage at the World Economic Forum in Davos. Yes, that Davos—the one that launches a thousand rabbit holes for conspiracy theorists and anti-globalists alike. If you aren’t a conspiracy enthusiast, it’s where the global elite gather to shape the world in ways that rarely benefit anyone outside their champagne circle. To see Trump there again—not as a rogue outsider, but as a featured speaker—was more than surreal. It was confirmation: this is what American capitalism has come to.
People ask why I’m a disenfranchised voter. It used to be hard to explain. Not anymore. It’s been made very simple in my mind. The entire system is broken beyond repair.
I watched with the kind of sinking clarity that only history grants in hindsight. The illusion of choice is gone. The pageantry of democracy? Sold off to the highest bidder. We’re not citizens anymore—we’re data points, productivity metrics, and prime shipping customers. The American Dream has become a clearance item at a global auction, and the tech bros are flipping it for crypto.
Trump promised the usual: deregulation, low taxes for the rich, and a nation open for business—but only if you’re already sitting at the VIP table. His jabs at European regulators and big banks weren’t about justice—they were tantrums over institutions that wouldn’t bow to conservative dogma. He vowed to press the Fed for lower rates and rolled out the red carpet for global investment—not to lift up workers, but to fatten the portfolios of people who already own everything. If you’re still wondering who this economy is for, here’s a hint: it’s not you. It’s a fire sale, and the soul of a nation is being auctioned off one tax break at a time.
He said we’ll be a “manufacturing superpower,” the “world capital of AI and crypto.” And as someone who believes in the power of human innovation, that should excite me. But it doesn’t. Because in his hands, these aren’t tools for building a better world—they’re tools for building a fortress of profit for the 1%. These technologies belong to humanity, not to America, not to the billionaires, and definitely not to white Christian nationalists pretending to lead a democracy.
And that’s where things get darker—because this isn’t just economic authoritarianism. No, that would be too simple. This version comes gift-wrapped in culture wars, dipped in religious fervor, and sealed with a wink of white supremacy.
He withdrew the U.S. from the WHO and the Paris Climate Agreement. Then, in what felt like a mad-lib of megalomania, he announced plans to take over the Panama Canal, “renamed” the Gulf of Mexico the “Gulf of America,” and said he wanted to buy Greenland. Yes—Greenland. A whole country, like it’s a fixer-upper on Zillow. He floated the idea of invading Canada and Mexico, imposed tariffs on longtime allies, and picked economic fights with China like it’s his personal episode of The Apprentice: Global Edition. And the wildest part? This was just the first few weeks. The unraveling we’re witnessing now didn’t come out of nowhere—it started in plain sight, and we were told it was “just politics.”
He gutted diversity, equity, and inclusion efforts across all U.S. agencies, calling it “absolute nonsense”—as if fairness were some radical concept. Then came the pledge to make America a “merit-based state,” which, coming from a man who inherited his fortune and failed upward for decades, would be laughable if it weren’t so dangerous. Meritocracy, in this context, isn’t about talent—it’s code for white, wealthy, and obedient.
He created a government office of religion, drawing a clear line between church and… unchecked political power. One of his billionaire allies—yes, the one who’s been increasingly acting like the final boss of a dystopian video game—performed a full Nazi salute on national television. And somehow, he’s still relevant. Still influential. Still running things. Cancel culture, where are you now? Suddenly quiet when the fascism is wearing a tailored suit and holding a Twitter poll.
People say comparisons to Hitler are overdone—as if historical memory should have a statute of limitations. But what else are we supposed to do when the red MAGA hat starts to feel like a soft-spoken armband? When cruelty becomes performance art? When laws bend to religion, race, and profit, and human worth is measured by wealth, conformity, and usefulness to power? If we’re not supposed to draw the line now, when exactly would be the right time?
I’m pro-humanity. That’s the only side I’m on. Every person is born with the same intrinsic worth—no matter where they’re from, what they believe, or who they love. Every person deserves the freedom to exist fully and without fear. Watching that truth get shredded—by policy, by propaganda, by people who laugh while others are stripped of dignity—is soul-crushing. What’s worse is how many cheer for it. How many treat suffering like a sport, oppression like a punchline, cruelty like a campaign strategy. It’s not just heartbreaking—it’s a betrayal of what it means to be human.
This has gone far beyond typical politics. Because this isn’t about politics anymore. This is about morality. And humanity. About the collapse of something we were told to believe in. And about naming what it has become: a system owned by oligarchs and technocrats, parading as democracy while the citizens are left to sweep the ashes of a dream that never really belonged to them.
The collapse isn’t coming—it’s already here, dressed in red hats, broadcast in HD, and branded as freedom.
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