Donald Trump is particularising the universal state. This is why he is hated so much - he is putting the sword to the religion of the universals.
He is plenty of flaws, but recognising that absolutism and multipolarity don't mix, and trying to stop what could have easily metastasised into WW3 under the Democrats are big positives.
Nice one Alexander. Solid analysis. There is nothing contradictory in Dugin's thinking here.
“Donald Trump is particularising the universal state.” This is a philosophically loaded phrase, but left undefined. Particularising the universal state could refer to resisting globalist (universalist) ideologies in favor of national sovereignty (particularism). However, without clarifying what is meant by “universal state” — whether Hegelian, globalist neoliberal order, or American unipolarity — the statement remains cryptic and open to projection.
“Putting the sword to the religion of the universals” is a powerful but vague metaphor. It frames universalist ideologies, such as globalism and liberal internationalism, as religious, suggesting dogmatism, but does not specify which “universals” are being critiqued. Are these human rights, liberal democracy, free trade? This rhetorical flourish relies more on evocative imagery than precise argumentation.
The argument hinges on the juxtaposition of absolutism versus multipolarity, suggesting Trump understands these as incompatible. Yet this binary is asserted rather than demonstrated. Multipolarity is a geopolitical condition; absolutism is a form of authority. Their “mixing” is not inherently contradictory without further conceptual unpacking.
The text praises Trump for preventing a global conflict under Democratic leadership, a large and controversial claim presented without evidence. Geopolitical dynamics are reduced to a simplistic partisan contrast, ignoring the complexities of structural realism, balance of power, and historical diplomacy.
The appeal to Dugin’s analysis is largely rhetorical. While praising the “solid analysis,” the writer assumes alignment between Dugin’s multipolar philosophy and Trump’s actions but offers no concrete policy examples to substantiate this, such as in Syria, NATO relations, or trade wars.
The tone of the text veers toward self-congratulation, as seen in phrases like “Nice one Alexander. Solid analysis.” This creates an atmosphere of in-group confirmation bias rather than fostering critical debate.
Defensive posturing is evident in comments such as “if you need so many words to refute my short comment, your thinking is too muddled.” This is an ad hominem deflection, dismissing complexity as mere verbosity and implying that brevity equates to clarity, a logically flawed position, especially in philosophical discourse.
There is also a rhetorical hedging with faux politeness in “Not saying that’s you by the way, Melvin.” This backhanded aside attempts to soften the accusation of ignorance while retaining a patronizing undertone, revealing an insecurity about the strength of the argument by preemptively discrediting critique.
The writer invokes the concept of multipolarity, a valid notion in international relations, but equates Trump’s transactional nationalism with multipolar theory without addressing their contradictions. Trump’s unilateralism, use of tariffs, and coercive diplomacy are at odds with a genuine multipolar balance of power.
Dugin’s ideology, encompassing Eurasianism, Traditionalism, and anti-liberal metaphysics, is referenced only superficially. The assertion that “there is nothing contradictory” in Dugin’s thinking ignores the extensive critiques highlighting his mystical essentialism’s incompatibility with pragmatic geopolitics.
The suggestion that only those “not au fait with IR and philosophy” would see contradictions is an elitist appeal to authority rather than a sound argument. It dismisses potential criticism by framing dissent as ignorance rather than engaging with substantive counterpoints.
The text strives for a high-level geopolitical-philosophical synthesis and does employ evocative imagery, such as “sword to the religion of the universals.” It ambitiously attempts to frame Trump’s actions within a larger metaphysical-political narrative. However, it heavily relies on assertions without evidence. Philosophical jargon is used more for rhetorical authority than for analytical clarity. The text lacks specificity in defining key terms such as universal state, absolutism, and multipolarity. Additionally, its defensive and condescending tone undermines genuine engagement.
This text reads more as a polemical opinion than a rigorous analysis. It conflates different registers of discourse — philosophy, geopolitics, and partisan commentary — without clarifying how they interrelate. The argument would benefit greatly from precise definitions, concrete examples, and an openness to counter-argument rather than rhetorical posturing.
I think multipolarity, and it would be hard to refute that we live in an multipolar political ecosystem now, and Trump's policies, and actions and reactions to how the world is now, match up pretty well.
I think my idea of his particularising the universal state is a fair and reasonable characterisation too.
I would also say that if you need so many words to refute my short comment, your thinking is too muddled and dispersed. You need to refine.
As for Dugin, I never said his general philosophy and the real world are well married and his thinking always well conceived. I merely said that there is nothing contradictory. In fact, I think only people who are not au fait with IR and philosophy would suspect there was a contradiction. Not saying that's you by the way, Melvin.
Dugin’s thought pivots around a metaphysical antagonism:
• Universalism (Globalism / Sea Power / Modernity) vs. Particularism (Multipolarity / Land Power / Tradition).
In this binary, Universalism imposes a homogenized, liberal “One World” order, while Multipolarity defends the right of distinct civilizations to follow their own paths.
Thus, viewing Trump as “particularizing the universal state” aligns with Dugin’s narrative: Trump disrupts globalist agendas, reasserting national sovereignty, even if imperfectly.
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2. Psychological Analysis
Psychologically, this statement reflects:
• Projection: Trump’s populism is cast as a symbolic revolt against “universalism,” even if Trump’s actual motivations (personal power, transactional nationalism) are less philosophical.
• Heroization of Flawed Figures: Dugin frequently elevates flawed or marginal figures (Trump, European populists) to the status of archetypal warriors against globalism. This reveals a psychological need for redeeming avatars, even in unlikely forms.
Thus, the defense of Trump’s flaws is not a contradiction but a psychological necessity in Dugin’s narrative warfare.
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3. Logical Analysis
The statement—“recognising that absolutism and multipolarity don’t mix”—mirrors Dugin’s assertion that:
• A unipolar globalist order (absolutism) is inherently incompatible with civilizational pluralism (multipolarity).
• Trump, by resisting globalist “absolutism” (e.g., anti-China tariffs, anti-NATO rhetoric), becomes an agent of multipolarity, even if unintentionally.
Logically, this interpretation is consistent with Dugin’s framework. However:
• Oversimplification: Trump’s policies were often incoherent, oscillating between isolationism and aggressive posturing (e.g., Iran assassination, China tariffs without multipolar respect).
• Intent vs. Effect: Dugin attributes geopolitical intentionality to Trump’s actions, though they were often ad hoc, transactional, and driven by domestic populism, not philosophical multipolarity.
Thus, while internally coherent, this logic retrofits Dugin’s metaphysics onto Trump, ignoring pragmatic realities.
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4. Historical Analysis
Historically, Dugin situates Trump within a lineage of:
• Continental resistance to maritime hegemony (Mackinder, Schmitt, Eurasianists).
• The statement frames Trump’s presidency as a historical correction to the post-Cold War “end of history” illusion.
However:
• The historical continuity is selective: Trump’s foreign policy often reinforced aspects of American dominance (e.g., unilateral sanctions, militarization of space).
• Nationalist particularism in American history has coexisted with imperial interventions (e.g., Monroe Doctrine), which complicates Dugin’s neat Land-Sea binary.
Thus, historically, the statement simplifies American geopolitical traditions, reducing them to Dugin’s Eurasianist template.
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5. Geopolitical Analysis
From a geopolitical lens:
• The statement asserts that Trump’s approach prevented escalation (e.g., potential WW3 under Democrats).
• This aligns with Dugin’s view that globalist expansionism breeds conflict, while multipolar restraint reduces tensions.
However:
• Geopolitical Reality Check: Under Trump, relations with Iran, China, and North Korea experienced moments of increased volatility.
• His unpredictability sometimes stabilized certain fronts (e.g., no new wars), but destabilized others through rhetoric and economic warfare.
Thus, while geopolitically plausible, the claim overstates Trump’s pacifying role in the global balance of power.
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6. Sociological Analysis
Sociologically:
• Trump’s rise was driven by populist backlash against neoliberal globalization, mirroring Dugin’s critique of rootless elites.
• The framing of Trump as “putting the sword to the religion of universals” resonates with broader culture war narratives (national identity vs. globalist progressivism).
However:
• American society’s divisions are multifaceted: race, class, gender, regionalism—factors Dugin’s civilizational particularism doesn’t fully account for.
Dugin’s ideological architecture is deeply mythopoetic and archetypal. His opposition to globalism (which he sees as a fluid, thalassocratic force) reflects a binary worldview: Land vs. Sea, Order vs. Chaos, Multipolarity vs. Unipolarity. Psychologically, this reveals: Manichaean thinking: He projects a moral geography where continental powers (Land) symbolize rooted identity and tradition, while maritime powers (Sea) represent rootless cosmopolitanism and nihilism.
His personal trauma (e.g., the assassination of his daughter Daria Dugina) likely reinforces his psychological need to view politics as an existential, civilizational war.
His “admiration” of Trump is projective identification: he sees in Trump (and American populists) the archetype of “continental resistance” within the Sea power itself.
Thus, his shift is not cognitive dissonance but a sublimation of his own anti-globalist psychodrama onto any actor who fits his Land power mythos, even within the USA.
At the level of pure logic, Dugin’s position appears consistent within his own metaphysical system:
He opposes liberal globalism, not America per se.
Trump’s “America First” nationalism and critique of globalist elites logically aligns with Dugin’s multipolarity thesis.
Thus, supporting American populists is not hypocrisy but an extension of his “distributed Heartland” concept.
However, logically, his argument has slippery slopes:
• He conflates anti-globalism with virtuous land power, even when land powers can be oppressive.
• He essentializes civilizations as monolithic “Heartlands”, ignoring internal diversity and contradictions.
Hence, while internally coherent, his logic is rigidly metaphysical, prone to oversimplifications.
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3. Historical Analysis
Historically, Dugin’s geopolitical framing draws from Halford Mackinder, Carl Schmitt, and Eurasianist thinkers.
• His interpretation of Anglo-Saxon thalassocracy vs. Eurasian land powers revives 19th–20th century geopolitics but overlooks post-Cold War transformations.
• The idea of the USA as a homogeneous “globalist” entity ignores historical periods of isolationism, anti-imperialism, and populist nationalism.
• His invocation of Bismarckian Realpolitik suggests a cyclical view of history, where great powers inevitably clash in a civilizational struggle.
Critically, Dugin’s historical lens is selective and archetypal, romanticizing continental empires while demonizing sea powers.
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4. Geopolitical Analysis
Geopolitically, Dugin’s “distributed Heartland” is a strategic adaptation:
• It reflects Russia’s diminished capacity to impose a Eurasian hegemony, shifting instead to supporting “civilizational pluralism”.
• His support for American populism is a pragmatic move to foster internal divisions within the USA, weakening its globalist agenda.
• The idea of “every Heartland for itself” resonates with emerging multipolar realities (China, India, BRICS+, etc.), though it risks encouraging regional authoritarianism.
However, his geopolitics downplay the complexity of global interdependence (e.g., economic globalization, transnational threats like climate change).
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5. Sociological Analysis
Sociologically, Dugin’s appeal to American populists taps into:
• A revival of traditionalism, nationalism, and conspiracy theories (e.g., Great Reset).
• His framing of “land vs. sea” maps onto cultural wars: rural vs. urban, traditional values vs. progressive cosmopolitanism.
Yet, his sociological model:
• Ignores class dynamics within Heartlands (oligarchies, social inequalities).
• Simplifies the complex identity politics of Western societies into civilizational binaries.
Dugin’s synthesis appeals to movements on both Left and Right that feel alienated by liberal globalism, yet risks becoming an ideological mirror image of the globalism it opposes—a rigid, exclusionary essentialism.
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Synthesis: Is This a “Turn” or a Continuity?
Dugin’s “admiration” of Trumpist America is not a true ideological conversion, but:
• A tactical alliance framed within his multipolar civilizational theory.
• An example of strategic adaptability in narrative warfare.
• A logical extension of his anti-globalist metaphysics applied within the USA itself.
Thus, it is both a continuity and a situational recalibration—Dugin remains consistent in his Eurasianist ontology, merely expanding the theater of struggle into America’s internal contradictions.
Your response is ‘sloppy’, and arrogant. Be specific and engage in a fuller debate.
Calling something “culture war slop” is a lazy way to dismiss an argument without actually engaging with it. It’s a sneer, not a critique. Instead of explaining what’s wrong with the discussion, this kind of phrasing just signals superiority while refusing to offer substance. It’s rhetorical posturing disguised as insight.
Then there’s the next part: “If you want to understand land and sea you need to read Schmitt.” This sounds authoritative, but it’s really just intellectual gatekeeping. Sure, Carl Schmitt’s Land and Sea is important for understanding certain geopolitical ideas, especially the distinction between land powers and sea powers. But to suggest that reading Schmitt is the only way to understand these dynamics is reductive. It ignores a huge body of thought—Mahan, Mackinder, Wallerstein, postcolonial critiques—people who offer other lenses to look at global power struggles.
The statement sets up a false choice: either you read Schmitt and “understand,” or you’re wallowing in culture war nonsense. That’s not how serious analysis works. You can critique culture war narratives while also engaging with a wide range of geopolitical theories that go beyond Schmitt’s framework.
There’s also a problem of context. Schmitt’s ideas come from a very specific historical moment—early twentieth-century Europe. His framework doesn’t cover modern complexities like cyber warfare, global financial networks, environmental politics, or the role of non-state actors. Relying on Schmitt as a one-size-fits-all key to geopolitics risks turning an insightful historical analysis into a dogma that ignores how the world has changed.
And here’s the real irony: invoking Schmitt as a rhetorical flex is itself a kind of culture war move. Schmitt is a deeply polarizing figure, and using his name as a blunt instrument to shut down discussion turns the debate into yet another culture war battle—the very thing the speaker claims to despise.
In the end, this statement comes off as shallow. It dismisses without arguing, elevates one thinker as the ultimate authority, and flattens a complex discussion into a binary choice. If the goal is serious analysis, this kind of posturing doesn’t help.
You're reading way too much into this and trying to create an air of authority yourself by being so long-winded, namedropping a bunch of writers, and over-rationalising to prove your preconceptions.
That it is slop should be self-evident. Dugin fell into delusions and fanaticism over the Trump administration, which betrayed the one promise that convinced the Right of its 'greatness'. How is there a conservative revolution if you don't even get the slightest effort to implement the one policy you supported? The Right got rug-pulled, a bitcoin stab-in-the-back, and they're cheering it on.
Dugin and others are astroturfing the internet with cheap propaganda, it's the same strain of thought as Foucault's blind support for revolution, and the socialists burying research on Soviet atrocities, and you're pretending it's great literature. Nonsense. More people should be showing 'arrogance'.
This post reads like the classic knee-jerk reaction you get when someone’s frustrated with intellectual discussion but isn’t ready to engage on the same level. The opening jab — accusing someone of “reading too much into it” and “namedropping” — is a transparent attempt to undercut the other person’s credibility without actually grappling with the argument itself. It’s not even subtle: by dismissing long-form reasoning as mere posturing, the commenter tries to claim the high ground of “common sense” while sidestepping the work of argumentation.
There’s a real irony here. In accusing the other person of “creating an air of authority,” the commenter ends up doing exactly that through performative bluntness. The swagger of phrases like “that it is slop should be self-evident” isn’t proof — it’s just rhetorical bravado. Declaring something obvious doesn’t make it so. If anything, it’s a red flag that the speaker has no interest in actually proving their point.
The critique of Dugin falls into this same pattern. Pointing out his entanglement with Trump-era politics is fair game, but the analysis stops at surface-level scorn. Dugin “fell into delusions and fanaticism” — okay, but how? What delusions? What fanaticism? What’s actually being engaged with here is a caricature, not the ideas themselves. The argument boils down to: “Dugin is bad because Trump failed,” which is a pretty flimsy syllogism for a critique that accuses others of over-rationalising.
The “rug-pulled” and “bitcoin stab-in-the-back” lines are admittedly clever — vivid metaphors that capture a sense of betrayal. But they don’t do much work beyond that. The argument assumes that political failure instantly invalidates the intellectual projects associated with it. That’s a lazy shortcut. By this logic, every thinker whose ideas failed in practice would be relegated to the trash heap. Politics is messier than that.
Then there’s the wild conflation of Dugin with Foucault and Soviet apologists. To lump together a Russian neo-Eurasianist, a French post-structuralist, and defenders of Soviet atrocities is to ignore vast ideological, historical, and methodological differences. It’s a cheap rhetorical move that tries to score points through guilt by association, hoping the reader won’t notice how different these figures actually are. This is not serious critique — it’s just throwing everyone you dislike into the same basket and lighting it on fire.
Calling the defense of such thinkers “pretending it’s great literature” completely sidesteps the idea that literature and philosophy can have value beyond immediate political utility. You don’t have to agree with Dugin’s politics to analyze his work as a cultural phenomenon. You don’t have to endorse Foucault’s flirtations with revolution to recognize his contributions to critical theory. The critique here flattens all nuance into a binary: propaganda or trash. That’s not how intellectual engagement works.
Finally, the post ends with a call for more “arrogance.” But what’s being advocated here isn’t really arrogance — it’s dismissal. The posture is: “Don’t bother thinking too hard, just call it nonsense and move on.” This isn’t bravery, it’s anti-intellectualism dressed up as tough-mindedness. The person accusing others of posturing is engaged in their own kind of performance — the performance of being the Only Sane Person in the Room who sees through the BS. But without deeper engagement, it rings hollow.
In short, this is a critique more interested in scoring rhetorical points than actually addressing the ideas it claims to refute. It’s not without some sharp phrasing and justified frustration, but it ultimately substitutes sneering for substance.
PHILOSOPHY has never changed the World, and never will ! The multi polar world vision in the so called “ fourth theory “ is nothing less than a vision to have the “big Powers” coming together into an agreement and divide between them the vital markets and resources available on Earth. Mr Dugin metaphysics is just Metaphysics. In objective reality, dialectics is the only law that governs any economic or spiritual development. The “ multipolar world “ if ever realised, will be nothing less than an advanced stage of Imperialism.
That does not mean that Philosophy is not important. On the contrary, the ability to ‘philosophize’ is central to what it means to be ‘well educated’. Which ever ‘Canon’ one takes the time to look at, one will find ‘philosophy’ at the ‘heart of the matter’.
I do believe that if life will not become extinct on Earth they we, wherever we are should struggle and think with our own minds , if we have one . The Russian revolution/ Chinese revolution were, tried to help People think with their own brains; the current outcome shows that little has remained of the dream of real change. Peoples in China or Russia may not suffer anymore hunger but they are far from freedom of thought and expression. I still believe though, that time will give birth once more to leaders like Mao , Mao Tse Tung cultural revolution was not about culture but social justice. Justice in human societies is and has been a word to cover the real power of the privileged Classes. Though, I don’t believe in a classless society ,I do believe that human condition will improve if we struggle as our fathers, grandfathers and great grandfathers struggled.
“I do believe that if life will not become extinct on Earth then we, wherever we are, should struggle and think with our own minds, if we have one.”
The call for independent thinking is commendable. It echoes Enlightenment ideals and critical theory’s emphasis on self-reflexivity.
The tone here borders on condescension (“if we have one”), which might alienate readers rather than persuade them. Additionally, the apocalyptic preamble (“if life will not become extinct”) is hyperbolic and detracts from the central argument.
A more grounded approach (focusing on environmental, social, or political challenges) would give this opening greater intellectual credibility.
“The Russian revolution/Chinese revolution were, tried to help People think with their own brains; the current outcome shows that little has remained of the dream of real change.”
This is a significant oversimplification. The Russian and Chinese revolutions aimed at radical socio-economic restructuring, but fostering independent thought was not their primary goal. In fact, both regimes (especially under Stalin and Mao) notoriously repressed dissent and enforced ideological conformity.
The phrasing implies that authoritarian revolutions encouraged independent thinking, which contradicts the historical record of censorship, purges, and propaganda.
While both revolutions promised emancipation (from feudalism, colonialism, etc.), their methods prioritized control over genuine intellectual freedom.
“Peoples in China or Russia may not suffer anymore hunger but they are far from freedom of thought and expression.”
This is a fair and accurate observation. Economic progress (reduction of absolute poverty) has not been matched by political liberalization in either country.
The statement lacks depth in explaining why this is the case. Factors like state capitalism, surveillance technologies, and nationalist ideologies deserve mention.
A more sophisticated argument would examine the trade-off between economic stability and political repression in post-revolutionary regimes.
“I still believe though, that time will give birth once more to leaders like Mao; Mao Tse Tung’s Cultural Revolution was not about culture but social justice.”
Mao’s leadership, especially during the Cultural Revolution (1966–76), is widely criticized for its catastrophic human costs—mass persecution, famine, and intellectual destruction.
To frame the Cultural Revolution as an act of “social justice” ignores its anti-intellectualism and violent suppression of perceived “class enemies.” It was as much about consolidating Mao’s personal power as it was about ideology.
Romanticizing authoritarian figures for their “revolutionary zeal” risks perpetuating cycles of oppression.
Advocating for social justice is vital, but it must be decoupled from violent, authoritarian methods.
“Justice in human societies is and has been a word to cover the real power of the privileged Classes.”
This resonates with Marxist and post-structuralist critiques (e.g., Bourdieu, Foucault) of how power operates under the guise of universal values.
Overgeneralization: While it’s true that “justice” has often been co-opted by elites, this statement dismisses genuine struggles where justice has been achieved through legal and democratic reforms.
Better Framing: Distinguishing between “hegemonic justice” and “emancipatory justice” would clarify this point without falling into cynical reductionism.
“Though, I don’t believe in a classless society, I do believe that human condition will improve if we struggle as our fathers, grandfathers and great grandfathers struggled.”
The rejection of utopianism (classless society) in favor of continuous struggle is a pragmatic and historically aware position.
This reflects Gramsci’s idea of “pessimism of the intellect, optimism of the will”—acknowledging structural limits while committing to ongoing resistance.
The appeal to generational struggle risks being sentimental if not connected to concrete strategies for present and future emancipation.
Articulating how the current generation’s struggles might differ (or resonate) with past ones would strengthen this argument.
The statement mixes sincere idealism with historical nostalgia but suffers from imprecise language and occasional rhetorical sloppiness.
It romanticizes authoritarian revolutions while ignoring their oppressive outcomes, particularly regarding freedom of thought. The call for independent thinking is undermined by the uncritical valorization of leaders (like Mao) who systematically destroyed intellectual autonomy.
The text’s critical perspective on class power and the cynical use of “justice” aligns with broader critiques of ideological manipulation.
Lacking: A nuanced differentiation between the dream of social justice and the means by which it is pursued is missing.
I show my gratitude for having found time to pay attention to my very amble and sloppy reflection on current events concerning the very dangerous times Humanity is going through. I will write an answer in the next few days and will try as best as possible to clarify my thoughts.
Donald Trump is particularising the universal state. This is why he is hated so much - he is putting the sword to the religion of the universals.
He is plenty of flaws, but recognising that absolutism and multipolarity don't mix, and trying to stop what could have easily metastasised into WW3 under the Democrats are big positives.
Nice one Alexander. Solid analysis. There is nothing contradictory in Dugin's thinking here.
“Donald Trump is particularising the universal state.” This is a philosophically loaded phrase, but left undefined. Particularising the universal state could refer to resisting globalist (universalist) ideologies in favor of national sovereignty (particularism). However, without clarifying what is meant by “universal state” — whether Hegelian, globalist neoliberal order, or American unipolarity — the statement remains cryptic and open to projection.
“Putting the sword to the religion of the universals” is a powerful but vague metaphor. It frames universalist ideologies, such as globalism and liberal internationalism, as religious, suggesting dogmatism, but does not specify which “universals” are being critiqued. Are these human rights, liberal democracy, free trade? This rhetorical flourish relies more on evocative imagery than precise argumentation.
The argument hinges on the juxtaposition of absolutism versus multipolarity, suggesting Trump understands these as incompatible. Yet this binary is asserted rather than demonstrated. Multipolarity is a geopolitical condition; absolutism is a form of authority. Their “mixing” is not inherently contradictory without further conceptual unpacking.
The text praises Trump for preventing a global conflict under Democratic leadership, a large and controversial claim presented without evidence. Geopolitical dynamics are reduced to a simplistic partisan contrast, ignoring the complexities of structural realism, balance of power, and historical diplomacy.
The appeal to Dugin’s analysis is largely rhetorical. While praising the “solid analysis,” the writer assumes alignment between Dugin’s multipolar philosophy and Trump’s actions but offers no concrete policy examples to substantiate this, such as in Syria, NATO relations, or trade wars.
The tone of the text veers toward self-congratulation, as seen in phrases like “Nice one Alexander. Solid analysis.” This creates an atmosphere of in-group confirmation bias rather than fostering critical debate.
Defensive posturing is evident in comments such as “if you need so many words to refute my short comment, your thinking is too muddled.” This is an ad hominem deflection, dismissing complexity as mere verbosity and implying that brevity equates to clarity, a logically flawed position, especially in philosophical discourse.
There is also a rhetorical hedging with faux politeness in “Not saying that’s you by the way, Melvin.” This backhanded aside attempts to soften the accusation of ignorance while retaining a patronizing undertone, revealing an insecurity about the strength of the argument by preemptively discrediting critique.
The writer invokes the concept of multipolarity, a valid notion in international relations, but equates Trump’s transactional nationalism with multipolar theory without addressing their contradictions. Trump’s unilateralism, use of tariffs, and coercive diplomacy are at odds with a genuine multipolar balance of power.
Dugin’s ideology, encompassing Eurasianism, Traditionalism, and anti-liberal metaphysics, is referenced only superficially. The assertion that “there is nothing contradictory” in Dugin’s thinking ignores the extensive critiques highlighting his mystical essentialism’s incompatibility with pragmatic geopolitics.
The suggestion that only those “not au fait with IR and philosophy” would see contradictions is an elitist appeal to authority rather than a sound argument. It dismisses potential criticism by framing dissent as ignorance rather than engaging with substantive counterpoints.
The text strives for a high-level geopolitical-philosophical synthesis and does employ evocative imagery, such as “sword to the religion of the universals.” It ambitiously attempts to frame Trump’s actions within a larger metaphysical-political narrative. However, it heavily relies on assertions without evidence. Philosophical jargon is used more for rhetorical authority than for analytical clarity. The text lacks specificity in defining key terms such as universal state, absolutism, and multipolarity. Additionally, its defensive and condescending tone undermines genuine engagement.
This text reads more as a polemical opinion than a rigorous analysis. It conflates different registers of discourse — philosophy, geopolitics, and partisan commentary — without clarifying how they interrelate. The argument would benefit greatly from precise definitions, concrete examples, and an openness to counter-argument rather than rhetorical posturing.
Melvin, my dear. Let's do what the daddy, Hegel, couldn't always do - be succinct and exact.
Otherwise this won't work.
Succinct does not equate with logical or meaningful.
Exact, is something of which you are clearly lacking.
Hegel would not consider himself as ‘daddy’, such utter garbage.
In any case what’s Hegel got to do with this.
Simply quoting a name will not legitimize your bogus philosophical stance.
Your rhetoric is obtuse.
I'll write an article about my view here. You can comment or not, as you wish.
Hope you’ve got a nice view and it’s sunny and warm ……..
Very sunny, very warm. And I save my a-game for the right moments. Come on down slick, see if you can say something biting in under 509 words.
I think multipolarity, and it would be hard to refute that we live in an multipolar political ecosystem now, and Trump's policies, and actions and reactions to how the world is now, match up pretty well.
I think my idea of his particularising the universal state is a fair and reasonable characterisation too.
I would also say that if you need so many words to refute my short comment, your thinking is too muddled and dispersed. You need to refine.
As for Dugin, I never said his general philosophy and the real world are well married and his thinking always well conceived. I merely said that there is nothing contradictory. In fact, I think only people who are not au fait with IR and philosophy would suspect there was a contradiction. Not saying that's you by the way, Melvin.
1. Contextualizing Dugin’s Position
Dugin’s thought pivots around a metaphysical antagonism:
• Universalism (Globalism / Sea Power / Modernity) vs. Particularism (Multipolarity / Land Power / Tradition).
In this binary, Universalism imposes a homogenized, liberal “One World” order, while Multipolarity defends the right of distinct civilizations to follow their own paths.
Thus, viewing Trump as “particularizing the universal state” aligns with Dugin’s narrative: Trump disrupts globalist agendas, reasserting national sovereignty, even if imperfectly.
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2. Psychological Analysis
Psychologically, this statement reflects:
• Projection: Trump’s populism is cast as a symbolic revolt against “universalism,” even if Trump’s actual motivations (personal power, transactional nationalism) are less philosophical.
• Heroization of Flawed Figures: Dugin frequently elevates flawed or marginal figures (Trump, European populists) to the status of archetypal warriors against globalism. This reveals a psychological need for redeeming avatars, even in unlikely forms.
Thus, the defense of Trump’s flaws is not a contradiction but a psychological necessity in Dugin’s narrative warfare.
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3. Logical Analysis
The statement—“recognising that absolutism and multipolarity don’t mix”—mirrors Dugin’s assertion that:
• A unipolar globalist order (absolutism) is inherently incompatible with civilizational pluralism (multipolarity).
• Trump, by resisting globalist “absolutism” (e.g., anti-China tariffs, anti-NATO rhetoric), becomes an agent of multipolarity, even if unintentionally.
Logically, this interpretation is consistent with Dugin’s framework. However:
• Oversimplification: Trump’s policies were often incoherent, oscillating between isolationism and aggressive posturing (e.g., Iran assassination, China tariffs without multipolar respect).
• Intent vs. Effect: Dugin attributes geopolitical intentionality to Trump’s actions, though they were often ad hoc, transactional, and driven by domestic populism, not philosophical multipolarity.
Thus, while internally coherent, this logic retrofits Dugin’s metaphysics onto Trump, ignoring pragmatic realities.
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4. Historical Analysis
Historically, Dugin situates Trump within a lineage of:
• Continental resistance to maritime hegemony (Mackinder, Schmitt, Eurasianists).
• The statement frames Trump’s presidency as a historical correction to the post-Cold War “end of history” illusion.
However:
• The historical continuity is selective: Trump’s foreign policy often reinforced aspects of American dominance (e.g., unilateral sanctions, militarization of space).
• Nationalist particularism in American history has coexisted with imperial interventions (e.g., Monroe Doctrine), which complicates Dugin’s neat Land-Sea binary.
Thus, historically, the statement simplifies American geopolitical traditions, reducing them to Dugin’s Eurasianist template.
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5. Geopolitical Analysis
From a geopolitical lens:
• The statement asserts that Trump’s approach prevented escalation (e.g., potential WW3 under Democrats).
• This aligns with Dugin’s view that globalist expansionism breeds conflict, while multipolar restraint reduces tensions.
However:
• Geopolitical Reality Check: Under Trump, relations with Iran, China, and North Korea experienced moments of increased volatility.
• His unpredictability sometimes stabilized certain fronts (e.g., no new wars), but destabilized others through rhetoric and economic warfare.
Thus, while geopolitically plausible, the claim overstates Trump’s pacifying role in the global balance of power.
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6. Sociological Analysis
Sociologically:
• Trump’s rise was driven by populist backlash against neoliberal globalization, mirroring Dugin’s critique of rootless elites.
• The framing of Trump as “putting the sword to the religion of universals” resonates with broader culture war narratives (national identity vs. globalist progressivism).
However:
• American society’s divisions are multifaceted: race, class, gender, regionalism—factors Dugin’s civilizational particularism doesn’t fully account for.
• Trumpism’s sociological base (disaffected working-class whites, evangelical conservatives) doesn’t map neatly onto Dugin’s Eurasianist civilizational schemas.
Thus, sociologically, the analogy holds symbolic power but lacks granular accuracy.
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7. Conclusion: Continuity or Contradiction?
“There is nothing contradictory in Dugin’s thinking here.”
This is broadly correct within Dugin’s own metaphysical system:
• His support for Trump fits his anti-globalist, multipolar logic.
• His conceptual elasticity allows him to incorporate unlikely allies into his Land power mythos.
However, from a critical perspective:
• Dugin’s interpretation mythologizes Trump, projecting civilizational significance onto pragmatic populism.
• His analysis remains internally coherent but externally reductionist, flattening historical, geopolitical, and sociological complexities.
Thus, there is no contradiction in Dugin’s system, but there is a gap between his ideological abstraction and real-world dynamics.
Dugin’s ideological architecture is deeply mythopoetic and archetypal. His opposition to globalism (which he sees as a fluid, thalassocratic force) reflects a binary worldview: Land vs. Sea, Order vs. Chaos, Multipolarity vs. Unipolarity. Psychologically, this reveals: Manichaean thinking: He projects a moral geography where continental powers (Land) symbolize rooted identity and tradition, while maritime powers (Sea) represent rootless cosmopolitanism and nihilism.
His personal trauma (e.g., the assassination of his daughter Daria Dugina) likely reinforces his psychological need to view politics as an existential, civilizational war.
His “admiration” of Trump is projective identification: he sees in Trump (and American populists) the archetype of “continental resistance” within the Sea power itself.
Thus, his shift is not cognitive dissonance but a sublimation of his own anti-globalist psychodrama onto any actor who fits his Land power mythos, even within the USA.
At the level of pure logic, Dugin’s position appears consistent within his own metaphysical system:
He opposes liberal globalism, not America per se.
Trump’s “America First” nationalism and critique of globalist elites logically aligns with Dugin’s multipolarity thesis.
Thus, supporting American populists is not hypocrisy but an extension of his “distributed Heartland” concept.
However, logically, his argument has slippery slopes:
• He conflates anti-globalism with virtuous land power, even when land powers can be oppressive.
• He essentializes civilizations as monolithic “Heartlands”, ignoring internal diversity and contradictions.
Hence, while internally coherent, his logic is rigidly metaphysical, prone to oversimplifications.
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3. Historical Analysis
Historically, Dugin’s geopolitical framing draws from Halford Mackinder, Carl Schmitt, and Eurasianist thinkers.
• His interpretation of Anglo-Saxon thalassocracy vs. Eurasian land powers revives 19th–20th century geopolitics but overlooks post-Cold War transformations.
• The idea of the USA as a homogeneous “globalist” entity ignores historical periods of isolationism, anti-imperialism, and populist nationalism.
• His invocation of Bismarckian Realpolitik suggests a cyclical view of history, where great powers inevitably clash in a civilizational struggle.
Critically, Dugin’s historical lens is selective and archetypal, romanticizing continental empires while demonizing sea powers.
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4. Geopolitical Analysis
Geopolitically, Dugin’s “distributed Heartland” is a strategic adaptation:
• It reflects Russia’s diminished capacity to impose a Eurasian hegemony, shifting instead to supporting “civilizational pluralism”.
• His support for American populism is a pragmatic move to foster internal divisions within the USA, weakening its globalist agenda.
• The idea of “every Heartland for itself” resonates with emerging multipolar realities (China, India, BRICS+, etc.), though it risks encouraging regional authoritarianism.
However, his geopolitics downplay the complexity of global interdependence (e.g., economic globalization, transnational threats like climate change).
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5. Sociological Analysis
Sociologically, Dugin’s appeal to American populists taps into:
• Anti-elitist resentment (against the “Davos class”, tech monopolies, woke capitalism).
• A revival of traditionalism, nationalism, and conspiracy theories (e.g., Great Reset).
• His framing of “land vs. sea” maps onto cultural wars: rural vs. urban, traditional values vs. progressive cosmopolitanism.
Yet, his sociological model:
• Ignores class dynamics within Heartlands (oligarchies, social inequalities).
• Simplifies the complex identity politics of Western societies into civilizational binaries.
Dugin’s synthesis appeals to movements on both Left and Right that feel alienated by liberal globalism, yet risks becoming an ideological mirror image of the globalism it opposes—a rigid, exclusionary essentialism.
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Synthesis: Is This a “Turn” or a Continuity?
Dugin’s “admiration” of Trumpist America is not a true ideological conversion, but:
• A tactical alliance framed within his multipolar civilizational theory.
• An example of strategic adaptability in narrative warfare.
• A logical extension of his anti-globalist metaphysics applied within the USA itself.
Thus, it is both a continuity and a situational recalibration—Dugin remains consistent in his Eurasianist ontology, merely expanding the theater of struggle into America’s internal contradictions.
This is culture war slop. If you want to understand land and sea you need to read Schmitt.
Your response is ‘sloppy’, and arrogant. Be specific and engage in a fuller debate.
Calling something “culture war slop” is a lazy way to dismiss an argument without actually engaging with it. It’s a sneer, not a critique. Instead of explaining what’s wrong with the discussion, this kind of phrasing just signals superiority while refusing to offer substance. It’s rhetorical posturing disguised as insight.
Then there’s the next part: “If you want to understand land and sea you need to read Schmitt.” This sounds authoritative, but it’s really just intellectual gatekeeping. Sure, Carl Schmitt’s Land and Sea is important for understanding certain geopolitical ideas, especially the distinction between land powers and sea powers. But to suggest that reading Schmitt is the only way to understand these dynamics is reductive. It ignores a huge body of thought—Mahan, Mackinder, Wallerstein, postcolonial critiques—people who offer other lenses to look at global power struggles.
The statement sets up a false choice: either you read Schmitt and “understand,” or you’re wallowing in culture war nonsense. That’s not how serious analysis works. You can critique culture war narratives while also engaging with a wide range of geopolitical theories that go beyond Schmitt’s framework.
There’s also a problem of context. Schmitt’s ideas come from a very specific historical moment—early twentieth-century Europe. His framework doesn’t cover modern complexities like cyber warfare, global financial networks, environmental politics, or the role of non-state actors. Relying on Schmitt as a one-size-fits-all key to geopolitics risks turning an insightful historical analysis into a dogma that ignores how the world has changed.
And here’s the real irony: invoking Schmitt as a rhetorical flex is itself a kind of culture war move. Schmitt is a deeply polarizing figure, and using his name as a blunt instrument to shut down discussion turns the debate into yet another culture war battle—the very thing the speaker claims to despise.
In the end, this statement comes off as shallow. It dismisses without arguing, elevates one thinker as the ultimate authority, and flattens a complex discussion into a binary choice. If the goal is serious analysis, this kind of posturing doesn’t help.
You're reading way too much into this and trying to create an air of authority yourself by being so long-winded, namedropping a bunch of writers, and over-rationalising to prove your preconceptions.
That it is slop should be self-evident. Dugin fell into delusions and fanaticism over the Trump administration, which betrayed the one promise that convinced the Right of its 'greatness'. How is there a conservative revolution if you don't even get the slightest effort to implement the one policy you supported? The Right got rug-pulled, a bitcoin stab-in-the-back, and they're cheering it on.
Dugin and others are astroturfing the internet with cheap propaganda, it's the same strain of thought as Foucault's blind support for revolution, and the socialists burying research on Soviet atrocities, and you're pretending it's great literature. Nonsense. More people should be showing 'arrogance'.
This post reads like the classic knee-jerk reaction you get when someone’s frustrated with intellectual discussion but isn’t ready to engage on the same level. The opening jab — accusing someone of “reading too much into it” and “namedropping” — is a transparent attempt to undercut the other person’s credibility without actually grappling with the argument itself. It’s not even subtle: by dismissing long-form reasoning as mere posturing, the commenter tries to claim the high ground of “common sense” while sidestepping the work of argumentation.
There’s a real irony here. In accusing the other person of “creating an air of authority,” the commenter ends up doing exactly that through performative bluntness. The swagger of phrases like “that it is slop should be self-evident” isn’t proof — it’s just rhetorical bravado. Declaring something obvious doesn’t make it so. If anything, it’s a red flag that the speaker has no interest in actually proving their point.
The critique of Dugin falls into this same pattern. Pointing out his entanglement with Trump-era politics is fair game, but the analysis stops at surface-level scorn. Dugin “fell into delusions and fanaticism” — okay, but how? What delusions? What fanaticism? What’s actually being engaged with here is a caricature, not the ideas themselves. The argument boils down to: “Dugin is bad because Trump failed,” which is a pretty flimsy syllogism for a critique that accuses others of over-rationalising.
The “rug-pulled” and “bitcoin stab-in-the-back” lines are admittedly clever — vivid metaphors that capture a sense of betrayal. But they don’t do much work beyond that. The argument assumes that political failure instantly invalidates the intellectual projects associated with it. That’s a lazy shortcut. By this logic, every thinker whose ideas failed in practice would be relegated to the trash heap. Politics is messier than that.
Then there’s the wild conflation of Dugin with Foucault and Soviet apologists. To lump together a Russian neo-Eurasianist, a French post-structuralist, and defenders of Soviet atrocities is to ignore vast ideological, historical, and methodological differences. It’s a cheap rhetorical move that tries to score points through guilt by association, hoping the reader won’t notice how different these figures actually are. This is not serious critique — it’s just throwing everyone you dislike into the same basket and lighting it on fire.
Calling the defense of such thinkers “pretending it’s great literature” completely sidesteps the idea that literature and philosophy can have value beyond immediate political utility. You don’t have to agree with Dugin’s politics to analyze his work as a cultural phenomenon. You don’t have to endorse Foucault’s flirtations with revolution to recognize his contributions to critical theory. The critique here flattens all nuance into a binary: propaganda or trash. That’s not how intellectual engagement works.
Finally, the post ends with a call for more “arrogance.” But what’s being advocated here isn’t really arrogance — it’s dismissal. The posture is: “Don’t bother thinking too hard, just call it nonsense and move on.” This isn’t bravery, it’s anti-intellectualism dressed up as tough-mindedness. The person accusing others of posturing is engaged in their own kind of performance — the performance of being the Only Sane Person in the Room who sees through the BS. But without deeper engagement, it rings hollow.
In short, this is a critique more interested in scoring rhetorical points than actually addressing the ideas it claims to refute. It’s not without some sharp phrasing and justified frustration, but it ultimately substitutes sneering for substance.
Reddit.
Same to you.
Reddit’s just the ‘runs’.
The ‘slop’ is of course Dugin. You obviously have not engaged with the critiques.
Please subscribe to https://zvekibra.substack.com. Especially is important for me to connect with Mr. Dugin or his team.
PHILOSOPHY has never changed the World, and never will ! The multi polar world vision in the so called “ fourth theory “ is nothing less than a vision to have the “big Powers” coming together into an agreement and divide between them the vital markets and resources available on Earth. Mr Dugin metaphysics is just Metaphysics. In objective reality, dialectics is the only law that governs any economic or spiritual development. The “ multipolar world “ if ever realised, will be nothing less than an advanced stage of Imperialism.
That does not mean that Philosophy is not important. On the contrary, the ability to ‘philosophize’ is central to what it means to be ‘well educated’. Which ever ‘Canon’ one takes the time to look at, one will find ‘philosophy’ at the ‘heart of the matter’.
And what you think the people, politics and the government of those countries should do/believe as an ideal goal?
I do believe that if life will not become extinct on Earth they we, wherever we are should struggle and think with our own minds , if we have one . The Russian revolution/ Chinese revolution were, tried to help People think with their own brains; the current outcome shows that little has remained of the dream of real change. Peoples in China or Russia may not suffer anymore hunger but they are far from freedom of thought and expression. I still believe though, that time will give birth once more to leaders like Mao , Mao Tse Tung cultural revolution was not about culture but social justice. Justice in human societies is and has been a word to cover the real power of the privileged Classes. Though, I don’t believe in a classless society ,I do believe that human condition will improve if we struggle as our fathers, grandfathers and great grandfathers struggled.
“I do believe that if life will not become extinct on Earth then we, wherever we are, should struggle and think with our own minds, if we have one.”
The call for independent thinking is commendable. It echoes Enlightenment ideals and critical theory’s emphasis on self-reflexivity.
The tone here borders on condescension (“if we have one”), which might alienate readers rather than persuade them. Additionally, the apocalyptic preamble (“if life will not become extinct”) is hyperbolic and detracts from the central argument.
A more grounded approach (focusing on environmental, social, or political challenges) would give this opening greater intellectual credibility.
“The Russian revolution/Chinese revolution were, tried to help People think with their own brains; the current outcome shows that little has remained of the dream of real change.”
This is a significant oversimplification. The Russian and Chinese revolutions aimed at radical socio-economic restructuring, but fostering independent thought was not their primary goal. In fact, both regimes (especially under Stalin and Mao) notoriously repressed dissent and enforced ideological conformity.
The phrasing implies that authoritarian revolutions encouraged independent thinking, which contradicts the historical record of censorship, purges, and propaganda.
While both revolutions promised emancipation (from feudalism, colonialism, etc.), their methods prioritized control over genuine intellectual freedom.
“Peoples in China or Russia may not suffer anymore hunger but they are far from freedom of thought and expression.”
This is a fair and accurate observation. Economic progress (reduction of absolute poverty) has not been matched by political liberalization in either country.
The statement lacks depth in explaining why this is the case. Factors like state capitalism, surveillance technologies, and nationalist ideologies deserve mention.
A more sophisticated argument would examine the trade-off between economic stability and political repression in post-revolutionary regimes.
“I still believe though, that time will give birth once more to leaders like Mao; Mao Tse Tung’s Cultural Revolution was not about culture but social justice.”
Mao’s leadership, especially during the Cultural Revolution (1966–76), is widely criticized for its catastrophic human costs—mass persecution, famine, and intellectual destruction.
To frame the Cultural Revolution as an act of “social justice” ignores its anti-intellectualism and violent suppression of perceived “class enemies.” It was as much about consolidating Mao’s personal power as it was about ideology.
Romanticizing authoritarian figures for their “revolutionary zeal” risks perpetuating cycles of oppression.
Advocating for social justice is vital, but it must be decoupled from violent, authoritarian methods.
“Justice in human societies is and has been a word to cover the real power of the privileged Classes.”
This resonates with Marxist and post-structuralist critiques (e.g., Bourdieu, Foucault) of how power operates under the guise of universal values.
Overgeneralization: While it’s true that “justice” has often been co-opted by elites, this statement dismisses genuine struggles where justice has been achieved through legal and democratic reforms.
Better Framing: Distinguishing between “hegemonic justice” and “emancipatory justice” would clarify this point without falling into cynical reductionism.
“Though, I don’t believe in a classless society, I do believe that human condition will improve if we struggle as our fathers, grandfathers and great grandfathers struggled.”
The rejection of utopianism (classless society) in favor of continuous struggle is a pragmatic and historically aware position.
This reflects Gramsci’s idea of “pessimism of the intellect, optimism of the will”—acknowledging structural limits while committing to ongoing resistance.
The appeal to generational struggle risks being sentimental if not connected to concrete strategies for present and future emancipation.
Articulating how the current generation’s struggles might differ (or resonate) with past ones would strengthen this argument.
The statement mixes sincere idealism with historical nostalgia but suffers from imprecise language and occasional rhetorical sloppiness.
It romanticizes authoritarian revolutions while ignoring their oppressive outcomes, particularly regarding freedom of thought. The call for independent thinking is undermined by the uncritical valorization of leaders (like Mao) who systematically destroyed intellectual autonomy.
The text’s critical perspective on class power and the cynical use of “justice” aligns with broader critiques of ideological manipulation.
Lacking: A nuanced differentiation between the dream of social justice and the means by which it is pursued is missing.
I show my gratitude for having found time to pay attention to my very amble and sloppy reflection on current events concerning the very dangerous times Humanity is going through. I will write an answer in the next few days and will try as best as possible to clarify my thoughts.
Beautiful read.
Simpletons. Wagging your tail for your master comes in 50 shades of gray LOL
What about the archangel that controls America though?