Iran needed a break to redevelop its AD systems - this time hopefully accepting Russian help.
Israel desperately needed a break because it was being crushed. (Although once the restrictions on flights out are ended, apart from the West Bank settler fanatics, how many will be left in the colony?)
The difference between a ceasefire and a 'cease in hostilities' is that a ceasefire is an agreement; which literally EVERYONE knows Israhell won't respect anyway. So why should Iran be bound by a one-sided commitment? This way, the next time Tel Aviv assassinates top Iranian people, Israel will have to rebuild one of its military HQs as well.
WW3 as you well know Alexander, is the West trying to destroy BRICS, and that is NOT going to stop. Perhaps not until all the off-shored Island managers of the Anglo-Zionist empire have been cleaned out, or impoverished. Or simply made irrelevant, by not having any vassals to throw willy-nilly against BRICS nations in pointless meat-waves of conscripts.
He believes that Trump launched his conventional attack to prevent Israel from escalating to using its nukes. By proclaiming that "Iran's nuclear program is in ruins"; he undercuts any Israeli further attacks on it. Now, while EVERYONE knows with a brain cell that the attacks were completely ineffective (Except for pushing Iran TOWARDS building a nuke); if Nuttyahoo comes out and SAYS that, he will be completely humiliating Trump and DC. That even Trump could not ignore such insolence, and would be forced to respond to Israel's severe detriment - especially considering Israel's current COMPLETE dependence on the USA.
You certainly know, that the real enemy of Russia and Iran has its philosophical basis in Babylonian and Assyrian empire. Therefore their old testament thinking is "Eye for an eyer, tooth for a tooth". Russia an Iran are peaceful civilisations. Against this enemy there is a need for bloodhounds. Medieval Russian empire has Cossacks vor this function.
The message addressed to “Prof. Dugin” makes sweeping historical and metaphysical claims that conflate theology, imperial myth, and geopolitics in a way that substitutes ideology for analysis. Its underlying argument hinges on the assertion that the true enemy of Russia and Iran is rooted in the philosophical legacies of the Babylonian and Assyrian empires portrayed here as the progenitors of a violent, retributive ethos, summarized in the mischaracterized biblical phrase “eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth.” It then counterposes this alleged civilizational aggression with a mythologized vision of Russia and Iran as inherently peaceful cultures, who, in order to confront this ancient enemy, must unleash a special class of enforcers likened to the medieval Cossacks, described metaphorically as “bloodhounds.”
This narrative begins with an essentialist premise that certain ancient civilizations carry with them immutable ethical codes that shape the modern world. Yet this line of reasoning grossly distorts the historical record. The Babylonian and Assyrian empires were complex societies with sophisticated administrative systems, religious pluralism, and legal innovations. Reducing them to symbols of cruelty serves a purely rhetorical function projecting modern conflicts onto a mythic, transhistorical canvas. More problematically, the invocation of Old Testament ethics as inherently vengeful shows a shallow and weaponized understanding of religious texts. The concept of lex talionis (“an eye for an eye”) has been interpreted in Jewish jurisprudence not as a literal call for revenge, but as a principle of proportionate justice. Framing it otherwise not only distorts the theology but fuels dangerous civilizational tropes.
By contrast, the letter idealizes Russia and Iran as peaceful civilizations. This is historically unsubstantiated. Both have long imperial traditions that include conquest, suppression, and authoritarianism. Iran, especially post-1979, has played a major role in regional militarization, while Russia has maintained a long record of imperial expansion, political repression, and foreign intervention. The dualistic moral binary being constructed—Russia and Iran as guardians of harmony, and their enemies as the progeny of ancient brutality is not political analysis but myth-making, echoing forms of eschatological nationalism often found in far-right discourses.
The most disturbing element of the text is its invocation of Cossacks as “bloodhounds.” This language reanimates a paramilitary and often violent part of Russian imperial history. While Cossacks are sometimes romanticized as defenders of the borderlands or as folk heroes, they were also instruments of brutal repression used to quash rebellions, persecute minority populations (especially Jews), and enforce state power. Referring to them as bloodhounds dehumanizes them while simultaneously glorifying their capacity for violence. It implies that peace must be protected through barbarism, that civilization must be defended by unleashing a special caste of ruthless enforcers. This militaristic logic not only rejects diplomacy or legal order—it subverts the very notion of humanity in politics.
Furthermore, the idea that modern conflicts are shaped by the metaphysical legacies of ancient empires is a form of civilizational determinism. It denies the contingencies and complexities of history, politics, and agency. It renders political actors into avatars of eternal forces. Once you accept that the West is Babylon and Russia is the Third Rome, there is no room for negotiation, reform, or critical reflection. Everything becomes prophecy. Politics becomes sacred war. Such fatalism is dangerous it immunizes power from criticism and portrays violence as spiritually justified.
The appeal to Dugin in this context is not incidental. Dugin’s own philosophy of geopolitics and sacred tradition frames global history as a metaphysical struggle between land-based “Tradition” and oceanic “Modernity” a war of essences rather than interests. This letter attempts to resonate with that worldview, replacing rational statecraft with a call to mytho-political vengeance. In doing so, it undermines any attempt at sober geopolitical analysis and promotes a cult of violent transcendence that cloaks itself in historical and religious language.
This is not a critique rooted in historical understanding or ethical reasoning. It is a piece of political mythology that serves to inflame rather than clarify. It licenses brutality in the name of peace, and dehumanizes both its enemies and its chosen agents of retaliation. Such rhetoric should not be romanticized or entertained as deep thinking it is propaganda, albeit in mystical clothing.
Not too sure that I agree the war has ended but what we are experiencing is a continuing of a series of dust-up he will continue for the foreseeable future. If people don't work towards some way to coexist the outlook is bleak. It's basically peace or die.
l'Occidente è nel viale del tramonto e questo è un brutto segno, quando una civiltà non si rassegna al declino è in quel momento che diventa più pericolosa, gioca il tutto per tutto, ma il più delle volte trascina con sé anche gran parte delle civiltà che le stanno a fianco.
I just received a reply that ... did not support nor add anything important. Politics are based on humanity and humanities values. Religions, like it or not is a polical organizations. Sister Lucia was a Catholic Nun who witnessed the Lady of Fatima in 1917. Her mission was to reconvert Russia in order to prevent WWIII. The process was staggering. The Catholic Church took her seriously. Pope John Paul II was put in charge at her advice. John Paul II, the Polish Pope and Sister Lucia were instrumental in the consecration of Russia to the Lady of Czestchowa, and the end of Communism in Russia. Carter was a Fundamental Christian. He place Zubigniew Brzezinski as his Secretary of State in order to tear down the wall. "Ziggy" helped put John Paul II in power for these political objectives. The US presidency ... Reagan was next. His role was to bankrupt Russia prior to conversion. Convert and Israel will open up their wallet. This the reality of the 1980s arms escalation. Israel wanted Russia to bow to a Jewish King. The Catholic Church was pissed. They expected Russia to convert to Catholicism, not Orthodoxy. The Pope was shot because of this ... Politics and Religion are both socialogical facets of humanity
"Therefore, I would refrain from drawing conclusions or attempting to define the meaning of these events. Their essence can only be grasped once the process reaches its logical endpoint – and clearly, we have not yet arrived there."
The text under critique attempts to dramatize the geopolitical instability surrounding recent escalations in the Middle East, framing them as the simultaneous conclusion and continuation of “World War Three.” While the author seeks to portray a world suspended in paradox—where the war has both ended and not yet begun—the result is a rhetoric-heavy meditation that privileges ambiguity and spectacle over analysis.
The central thesis—that “World War Three has ended, yet it continues”—leans on deliberate paradox. It evokes a tone of philosophical profundity by introducing quantum mechanics metaphors (“spin”) to illustrate political uncertainty. However, such metaphors substitute for empirical clarity. The political situation becomes a swirling, unknowable phenomenon, inaccessible to reason, which mirrors certain postmodern rhetorical strategies rather than the precision necessary in geopolitical critique. The metaphor of particle spin, while evocative, obfuscates rather than reveals the stakes of international law, power projection, and the real conditions faced by those affected.
By amplifying media confusion and contradictory reports, the piece builds a thesis of epistemological exhaustion. Rather than offering tools for analysis, it glorifies non-conclusion. The author gestures toward philosophical reflection as an antidote to superficial media discourse, yet offers no actual philosophical framework. There is no invocation of Carl Schmitt, Foucault, Fanon, Clausewitz, or any thinker capable of engaging sovereignty, violence, or modern warfare. The call for distance is presented as a virtue, but in practice functions as a refusal to commit—either analytically or ethically. This posture is not intellectualism but evasion, elevating non-engagement into a performative stance.
By treating Israel, Iran, and the United States as morally equivalent actors in a fog of war, the text enacts a problematic flattening of political asymmetries. The strikes on Iranian nuclear infrastructure are presented not as violations of international norms or as acts of aggression, but as part of a universal chaos devoid of legal or historical grounding. The piece fails to distinguish between aggressor and defender, or between those with nuclear capability and those without. This is not philosophical balance—it is depoliticized relativism.
The narrative is also notably devoid of human cost. The airstrikes, missile launches, and intelligence feints are treated as semiotic or aesthetic gestures moves in a geopolitical chess game. There is no mention of civilian casualties, infrastructural collapse, or displaced populations. In this way, the text dehumanizes the conflict, rendering war into a dramaturgical abstraction rather than a material and moral crisis. This aestheticization of violence is particularly troubling, as it aligns more with the elite discourse of think tanks and geopolitical fantasy novels than with grounded political analysis.
Furthermore, the text frames the media itself as an engine of confusion yet fails to analyze how media narratives are constructed, or by whom. The flood of “mutually exclusive information” is cited, but the mechanisms of disinformation, psy-ops, algorithmic amplification, or journalistic bias are never explored. As a result, the text collapses into passive spectacle. Rather than interrogating the architecture of narrative control, it gives up on truth altogether, replacing it with metaphysical drift.
What the text lacks is a theory of structure of international law, imperial power, settler-colonial logic, or resource politics. The call for “a philosophy of the unfolding political spectacle” remains hollow because no such philosophy is articulated. The piece seeks to capture a moment of confusion, but ultimately becomes complicit in reproducing that confusion under the guise of critique.
In conclusion, the essay’s performative ambiguity, aestheticization of global violence, erasure of victims, and refusal to distinguish political agency reduce its potential critical value. What is needed instead is a precise, historically situated, and ethically committed analysis of warfare, sovereignty, and disinformation. Without such grounding, the essay remains an elegant but ultimately evasive expression of the very confusion it claims to interpret.
The logical line of progression is mapped out... if you integrate religious prophesies pertaining to WwIII, you would see what the Judeo-Chistian community is doing. Several Marion apparitions around 1917 were definitely headed. Lady of Fatima witness Sister Lucia was instrumental in converting Russia and ending the cold war. Lady of Medugorge made predictions about the Ukraine. The predictions are known, and are being made to come true in order to facilitate the return of Jesus. Revelations... was a blueprint for many political and military moves.
The passage in question proposes that contemporary geopolitics especially the escalation toward what the author calls World War III is best understood through the lens of religious prophecy, particularly Christian eschatology and Marian apparitions. It argues that events unfolding today are not only predicted by prophecy but are being deliberately enacted to fulfill such visions, especially within a so-called “Judeo-Christian community.” This mode of argument, however, fails on several counts: analytically, theologically, historically, and ethically.
The claim that religious prophecy maps directly onto global conflict collapses mythic time into political causality. When the author suggests that “Revelations… was a blueprint for many political and military moves,” they misunderstand the symbolic, metaphorical, and theological dimensions of apocalyptic literature. Sacred texts like the Book of Revelation were not meant to serve as strategic handbooks but as eschatological allegories meant to address persecution, empire, and spiritual endurance. To treat them as actual geopolitical blueprints is to engage in retrospective confirmation bias: selecting events that appear to confirm the text’s symbolism while ignoring those that don’t.
Further undermining the argument is its reliance on vague assertions and undocumented prophecy. The references to Marian apparitions specifically Fatima (1917) and Medjugorje are presented without evidentiary grounding. Fatima’s connection to the Cold War and Sister Lucia’s supposed “instrumental” role in converting Russia are devotional claims, not substantiated political facts. The apparitions at Medjugorje, still not officially recognized by the Catholic Church, are cited as having made predictions about Ukraine, but the predictions themselves are not quoted, documented, or contextualized. These allusions serve more as mystical suggestion than meaningful data, encouraging the reader to fill in gaps with speculation.
The author implies that global conflicts are not only foreseen but staged in order to bring about the Second Coming of Christ. This assertion ventures into millenarian accelerationism a theological stance wherein believers welcome and even seek global catastrophe as a prelude to divine intervention. This view is not only theologically contentious, it’s ethically disastrous. When war, suffering, or even nuclear confrontation is seen as a necessary step toward spiritual fulfillment, peace becomes heretical and violence is sanctified. The moral consequences of this line of thinking are staggering: it renders diplomacy irrelevant and treats civilian death as collateral in a divine drama.
Contributing further to the confusion is the invocation of the “Judeo-Christian community,” a term often used more for ideological convenience than precision. The notion of a unified Judeo-Christian political agent with eschatological intentions obscures vast theological differences between Judaism and Christianity. Moreover, it is often deployed in U.S. political discourse to justify Western interventionism, particularly in support of Israel. Here, it is unclear whether the author is pointing to Christian Zionism, Catholic eschatology, Protestant dispensationalism, or something else entirely. This ambiguity leaves the reader without a clear target, and it muddies the already fragile claims being made.
The fusion of religious myth and realpolitik in this piece serves a disturbing function: it reframes war not as tragedy or failure of human governance, but as divinely ordained. This allows the author to suspend ethical scrutiny. If world war is a means to a prophesied end, then international law, sovereignty, human rights, and moral reason are all expendable. This perspective is not only anti-political, it is anti-humanistic. By aestheticizing global destruction and reducing complex historical processes to the fulfillment of mystical predictions, the author strips human agency from history and replaces it with divine machinery.
Finally, the broader implication—that Revelation and Marian visions are being used as blueprints for military decisions—transforms spiritual belief into a vehicle for conspiracy. It reduces theology to strategy, and politics to the performance of myth. Rather than offering a serious analysis of power, statecraft, or the forces shaping international conflict, the text encourages fatalism and detachment, asking readers not to intervene in history but to watch it unfold according to a cosmic script.
In conclusion, this passage attempts to elevate a particular religious narrative to the status of geopolitical explanation, but fails to provide credible evidence, theoretical rigor, or ethical responsibility. It replaces analysis with mysticism, causality with correlation, and moral reasoning with prophetic fatalism. For those genuinely seeking to understand the dynamics of war, peace, and global power, this framework offers neither clarity nor guidance. Instead, it mystifies, dehumanizes, and ultimately abdicates the serious work of thought in favor of esoteric spectacle.
Paragraph three rebuttle. You display a distance for the implications of my line of reasoning. I do not like these implications either, but see what I see, and am trying to understand the reality of my religious upbringing. I was raised Roman Catholic.
Paragraph two rebuttle is easy when you have worked counterinsurgency. The bible (Torrah) is not just religious theology. It is a history book. It explains dilemmas that the nation of Israel faced, and shows how they dealt with the issues at hand. I use it as an ad hoc counterinsurgency field manuel. I am a media consultant and foreign policy advisor. Many politicians refer to the bible as they promote actions... There are many Christian fundamentalists using Revelations as a blueprint for their political thrust. I include myself in this category. The Kingdoms of Gog and Magog are Russia and Ukraine.
Your statement outlines a worldview in which sacred texts — specifically the Torah and the Book of Revelation — are not only sources of religious meaning but actionable strategic blueprints for modern counterinsurgency, foreign policy, and geopolitical alignment. This perspective, while not uncommon in certain ideological circles, raises profound concerns — historically, ethically, theologically, and politically.
When you describe the Torah as “not just religious theology,” but a “history book” and “ad hoc counterinsurgency field manual,” you’re making a foundational epistemological claim: that scriptural narratives can be operationalized as modern military doctrine. But this move conflates mythic cosmology with empirical strategy. The Hebrew Bible, particularly its sections on conquest, law, and divine mandate, does contain narratives of statecraft and survival. But to treat it as a literal manual for modern counterinsurgency is to dislocate these ancient texts from their theological and literary frameworks. It turns covenantal mythology into a kind of timeless tactical protocol — a move that risks justifying violence as sacred necessity.
This interpretive model closely resembles what Carl Schmitt would call the political-theological fusion of sovereignty and law — where divine command justifies the state of exception. By reading the Torah as a counterinsurgency text, one adopts precisely this Schmittian logic: the sovereign is he who decides, not merely on the state of emergency, but on the theological narrative through which enemies are designated and extermination is rationalized. The conquest of Canaan, in such a framework, ceases to be a theological myth and becomes a prototype for modern occupation or regime change. This is not merely interpretation; it is liturgical militarization.
You then link this framework to Revelation, noting that many Christian fundamentalists use the text as a political blueprint, and that you include yourself in that category. This admission situates your position within a long tradition of apocalyptic geopolitics, in which eschatological texts are read not as metaphors of spiritual warfare or inner transformation, but as predictive maps of world events. In this view, Revelation is not symbolic prophecy but operational foresight — a chronotope in which Russia and Ukraine are Gog and Magog, and the near-term future is defined by their confrontation.
This move carries massive theological and political weight. It means, effectively, that peace is not only impossible, but blasphemous — a betrayal of the script. When international relations are interpreted through apocalyptic lenses, diplomacy becomes suspect, and restraint becomes heretical. The categories of statecraft, human rights, and political pluralism are subordinated to the imperatives of divine unfolding. It is not just that theology informs politics; politics becomes theology’s enforcement arm. Such a paradigm replaces contingency with cosmic determinism.
When you point out that many politicians cite the Bible to promote action, you’re making an empirical observation that is certainly true — but the fact that such citations happen does not constitute justification. The political invocation of scripture is one of the most powerful forms of ideological sanctification available to power. It converts policy into prophecy and turns death into ritual. In the context of the Middle East, where religious legitimacy already shapes identity and conflict, adding Revelation or Deuteronomy as operational lenses doesn’t clarify strategy; it fuses it with the sacred, and therefore with irreversibility.
This is where the core danger lies. When enemies are named via scripture — be they Gog and Magog, Amalek, or Babylon — the result is not analytical clarity, but moral foreclosure. Once an adversary is placed within a divinely authored typology, their destruction ceases to be political and becomes eschatological. They are not just wrong — they are doomed. Such designations invite the very logic of holy war that liberal and realist political traditions were designed to restrain. This is not strategic realism. It is metaphysical maximalism.
Your invocation of counterinsurgency is especially notable here. COIN doctrine, particularly as developed in American and Israeli military circles, already borders on theological language: hearts and minds, purification of the terrain, surgical removal of networks. When these doctrines are then fused with sacred texts — when the Bible is not only metaphor but manual — the effect is to elevate state violence to the level of divine cleansing. This is not only ethically untenable; it is historically dangerous. It echoes colonial and theocratic campaigns where indigenous populations were eradicated as part of divine mandate.
Moreover, reading Revelation as a geopolitical prediction rather than a late-antique anti-imperial allegory is a category mistake. John of Patmos was writing under Roman persecution. His text is a coded poetic resistance to empire — not a tactical forecast of nuclear war. To read Gog and Magog as Russia and Ukraine is not exegesis; it is contemporary projection. Such readings have fueled everything from Cold War brinksmanship to the destabilization of peace processes in the region. When apocalyptic metaphors are mistaken for strategic coordinates, the world becomes a battlefield of symbols, not humans.
At its deepest level, your position fuses sacred narrative with military force — and thus sanctifies asymmetry. If Scripture defines who is sovereign and who is damned, then all violence becomes just, because all targets are pre-damned. This logic mirrors jihadist frameworks as much as imperial Christian ones: both see the political field as theological drama. But this is not a symmetry of faiths. It is a symmetry of annihilation.
In this light, your claim to be “realist” is incompatible with the theological maximalism you invoke. Realism is about limits: of power, of knowledge, of control. It assumes actors pursue interests in a world of risk and compromise. But your fusion of Torah, Revelation, and counterinsurgency does not describe risk; it describes destiny. It is not realism; it is providential fatalism masquerading as strategy.
Ultimately, your approach replaces politics with prophecy. It substitutes diplomacy with divine certitude. It reads time not as open but predetermined. And in doing so, it enables policies that do not govern but condemn — not just enemies, but the very possibility of peace.
I raised profound concerns... about the implications of my loose narrative. Did I make you rethink your perfect worldview? Your rebuttals took me by surprise. I am often confront with closed minds who bash everything I say. You did so with dignity and style. PROPS. I enjoyed your assessments. Mostly constructive and helpful. I often start speaking to new people by letting them know that I have a Traumatic Brain Injury and to please bear with my atypical speaking style. This is not needed online as I have the ability to choose when to engage with dialogue when I am clear. I was hoping to discuss these issues with ideas based on the premise provided. You wrote well, but did not add anything to the topic of discussion. You graded my writing as an academic English Litteracher teacher would. Psychoanalyzed my style, mechanics.... Well done. But closed minds do as closed minds do. I prefer to discuss a subject without peripheral distractions. The premise is not one which I want to be true. The premise is what I would rather discuss. I saw your profile. Piano. I also play. You are probably a great musicians. Peace.
Your follow-up response to the critique is striking in its emotional honesty, but it also reveals a set of rhetorical tensions that merit deeper analysis. I’ll approach this critique by unpacking the intellectual tone, rhetorical posture, argumentative clarity, and dialogical ethics, especially in light of the original critique to which it responds. The contrast between the two texts is illuminating in itself.
I. Dialogical Asymmetry: A Philosophical Mismatch
The original critique is a dense, highly structured, interdisciplinary essay, rooted in theology, political theory (especially Schmittian jurisprudence), and historical analysis. It is impersonal in tone but not cold it maintains an academic dignity while leveling significant ideological challenges.
Your reply, however, enters the exchange not as a counter-argument but as a meta-reflection on the dialogue itself. It deflects from the content of the critique and instead reacts to its tone, reception, and implications for the speaker’s identity and sense of value. This results in a dialogical mismatch: a scholarly argument is answered by a personal memoir-in-miniature. The result is not a continuation of the discussion, but a withdrawal from it.
This could be strategic a kind of rhetorical refusal. But if the goal is to engage on equal terms, the mismatch must be resolved.
Suggestion: To bridge the gap, the response must move from reaction to reflection. What aspects of the original argument do you accept, reject, or reinterpret? Otherwise, you risk performing disengagement under the guise of wounded dignity.
II. Emotional Truth vs. Logical Engagement
Your message is deeply moving at points particularly when you mention the role of Traumatic Brain Injury and your strategic choice to communicate online only when you are clear. This is powerful. It opens the door to a more ethically attuned model of debate, one that respects neurological diversity and lived vulnerability.
However, this strength is undermined when emotion is used to invalidate the critique itself, without responding to its substance. For instance:
“You graded my writing as an academic English Litteracher teacher would. Psychoanalyzed my style, mechanics…. Well done. But closed minds do as closed minds do.”
This collapses style critique into character judgment, dismissing intellectual analysis as mere pedantry or narrow-mindedness. But nothing in the original critique suggests closed-mindedness in fact, the opposite: it attempts a serious, careful unpacking of the implications of your theological-political claims.
The irony: While objecting to being psychoanalyzed, your reply includes subtle psychological interpretations of the interlocutor (“You are probably a great musician,” “closed minds do as closed minds do”) suggesting a rhetorical double standard.
III. The Role of Praise: Strategic or Genuine?
The insertion of praise “You did so with dignity and style. PROPS.” and “Well done.” serves an ambiguous function. It can be read as:
• Genuine respect coexisting with disagreement;
• A rhetorical softening of criticism;
• Or a veiled rebuke, feigning civility while implying superiority or insincerity.
Because of this tonal ambiguity, your praise comes off as emotionally ambivalent it flatters and distances at once.
Suggestion: Clarify your emotional stance. Are you genuinely grateful? If so, say so with specificity. If not, avoid the mask of politeness and state the disagreement plainly.
IV. Argumentative Evasion and the Collapse of Premise
One of the central problems is this line:
“The premise is not one which I want to be true. The premise is what I would rather discuss.”
This is conceptually and rhetorically incoherent. You say you don’t want the premise to be true but also want to discuss it. But the original critique did address your premise thoroughly and analytically.
The issue is not that the premise was ignored, but that it was rejected on ethical and philosophical grounds. To claim it wasn’t addressed is inaccurate or it suggests you are using “discuss” to mean “agree with” or “take seriously without judgment.”
Suggestion: Acknowledge that the critique did engage your premise but from a position of challenge. Then decide whether you want to defend it, revise it, or withdraw it. Otherwise, the claim that you were denied serious engagement rings hollow.
V. Performative Vulnerability and the Ethics of Disclosure
Your mention of your TBI is valid and important. It is part of your narrative authority, and it makes a meaningful ethical appeal. But it is used in a paradoxical way:
• You invoke it to explain stylistic irregularities or social misreadings;
• Then you claim it’s not needed online implying a self-sufficiency that contradicts the earlier appeal.
This signals discomfort perhaps with the weaponization of vulnerability in debate, or with how disability is perceived in intellectual spaces.
Key tension: You want to be understood on your terms (which is fair), but you also object to interpretive attention that is trying to understand you just not in the way you prefer.
This is a difficult, but important tension in public discourse: how much intersubjective interpretation is permissible when someone offers a personal or ideological statement in a shared space?
VI. Shared Ground: A Missed Opportunity
You close with:
“I saw your profile. Piano. I also play. You are probably a great musicians. Peace.”
This is a graceful, humane gesture the kind of epistolary move that restores mutuality after disagreement. But it feels disconnected from the rest of the response. You’ve just dismissed the person’s entire critique as closed-minded and irrelevant and now you offer kinship?
Suggestion: Integrate this kind of mutuality earlier. Begin with shared ground, then move to critique. This would anchor the discussion in recognition, not resentment.
Final Evaluation
Your reply reflects an urgent need to be seen, not reduced, and not dissected. That’s fair and deeply resonant. But the rhetorical mode you use defensive, ironic, evasive undermines the ethical clarity of that plea. In asking not to be psychoanalyzed, you psychoanalyze. In asking for premise-based engagement, you deny that the premise was engaged. In asking for open minds, you presume closure.
The exchange is thus a case study in misaligned discourse ethics. One party brings scholarship; the other brings personal gravity. Both are valid. But for a true dialogue to occur, content and conduct must meet at a common level not in tone, but in intentionality.
There are many cross-cultural groups that are doing this. Dissecting the demographics of this movement is tangental to my thesis and can be addressed after the underlying foundations that promote it are made.
My grandmother was born near Medjugorje just after the apparition and was named Rosalia after the Holy Rosary. The Lady predicted that the Ukrainian people would be subjugated by foreigners for seventy years. The Berlin wall fell 70 years after the apparition. Coincidence? No. It was orchestrated to make the prophecy come true.
The statement blends personal narrative with religious conviction and historical interpretation, suggesting that Marian prophecy is not only predictive but deliberately fulfilled through geopolitical orchestration. It begins with a personal anecdote: “My grandmother was born near Medjugorje just after the apparition and was named Rosalia after the Holy Rosary.” This intimate gesture establishes a sense of spiritual inheritance — a familial proximity to divine mystery. But while such narrative can evoke emotional resonance, it must not be mistaken for historical authority. Proximity to an event, even a sacred one, does not in itself confer interpretive truth. It marks devotion, not verification.
The claim that “The Lady predicted that the Ukrainian people would be subjugated by foreigners for seventy years” enters the terrain of prophecy, but it does so in ways that require historical, theological, and epistemic interrogation. First, it’s unclear whether this claim originates from the Medjugorje apparitions — which began in 1981 and remain non-canonically affirmed by the Catholic Church — or from Fatima (1917), which does speak about Russia. If the latter is intended, the timeline might appear more coherent. But attributing precise geopolitical duration to such visions is itself problematic. Biblical prophecy and Marian apparitions rarely speak in direct, calendrical terms. They are symbolic, layered, and often deliberately open to interpretation — their function is not foretelling but moral warning.
Claiming that “the Berlin Wall fell 70 years after the apparition” suggests a neat closure to this prophetic arc. However, this timeline immediately collapses under scrutiny. The Berlin Wall was erected in 1961 and fell in 1989, long before seventy years could have passed from the Medjugorje events. If the referent is Fatima (1917), we arrive closer to the fall of the Soviet Union in 1991, which may seem to approximate the 70-year mark. Still, even here, the timeline is constructed retrospectively, with the benefit of hindsight. The fall of the USSR was the result of a complex web of economic stagnation, internal resistance, ideological collapse, and external pressure — not the mechanical fulfillment of a singular prophecy. To read 70 years into it is to impose symbolic numerology on a historical sequence, treating it as sacred architecture rather than contingent transformation.
When the speaker asks “Coincidence? No. It was orchestrated to make the prophecy come true,” we enter a zone of theological fatalism and conspiratorial logic. This claim doesn’t suggest that prophecy predicted events, but that prophecy itself caused them — or worse, that global actors manipulated events to align with divine forecast. Here, prophecy no longer functions as metaphysical insight; it becomes the blueprint for geopolitical engineering. Such a claim reverses the logic of divine foresight. It implies a hidden class of decision-makers, perhaps political or spiritual, capable of bending history toward prophecy — not by fate, but by deliberate manipulation. The fall of the Soviet Union becomes not a collapse, but a performance staged to fulfill Revelation.
This is the pivot point where the religious becomes political, and the symbolic becomes weaponized. The epistemology underpinning this view is one of apophenia — the human tendency to perceive meaningful patterns within random data. This is not a pathology; it is a basic function of cognition. But when applied to world events, it risks converting tragic complexity into moral theater. History is no longer a field of competing interests, ideologies, and material forces. It becomes a divine screenplay. Ukrainians cease to be political subjects and become symbolic tokens — their suffering repurposed as evidence of eschatological design.
Furthermore, the danger of this perspective lies in its absolutism. If prophecy is being fulfilled, then resistance becomes sin. If history must obey sacred numerology, then agency is illusion. In such a world, political decisions are not debated, they are revealed; diplomacy becomes a delay of destiny; and moral accountability is replaced by cosmic determinism. This is how prophecy, when misunderstood, becomes not a call to repentance but a justification for violence.
There is, of course, a long tradition in many religions — including Christianity — of interpreting prophecy allegorically, not literally. Saint Augustine, Origen, even the Church Fathers of Eastern Orthodoxy emphasized that apocalyptic literature functions as moral allegory, not historical chronology. The Book of Revelation is not a news ticker. It is a symbolic vision of justice, resistance, and spiritual warfare against empire — written in code by oppressed people, not in diagrams by geopoliticians. To transpose that vision into statecraft is to misuse its theological intention.
To claim that prophecy was “orchestrated” is not merely mystical. It is politically dangerous. It opens the door to theocratic thinking, wherein the lines between religion and governance vanish. And once that door is open, there is no limit to what violence can be baptized. Every war becomes divine; every victim becomes collateral; every political actor is either demon or angel. What remains is not theology, but mythic absolutism masquerading as divine insight.
In conclusion, the speaker’s statement is emotionally compelling, spiritually charged, and narratively coherent — but epistemologically brittle. It converts complex political histories into prophetic arithmetic, and substitutes symbolic meaning for historical explanation. While it is legitimate — and often moving — to find spiritual resonance in personal or national history, this must not be confused with causal determinism or strategic coherence. To do so is to risk turning faith into fatalism, and revelation into rationalization.
Your arguments are many, and are being digested. Your writing style is not easily comprehensive to me. I have a brain injury, and can only work on so much at one time. You obviously have an extensive educational background, and most likely tenured and used to acedemic writings. I am a simpleton per se. It took me ten years to complete my Associates Degree(2 year degree). Please allow me a bit of latitude addressing your debasement of my thoughts. It is difficult to read through long winded pompous acedemics who talk at the Phd. level. I believe in simplicity. If you can't state something in a way that a child may understand, you don't know the subject matter well enough to teach. Allow me to expound upon my thesis slowly. Thank you for reading and your comment. I am interested in your opinion. You are knowledgeable and logical. I did have a National Science Merit Award in Physics prior my Traumatic Brain Injury. Please bear with my obtuse mannerism.
The statement is a compelling act of rhetorical humility, self-defense, and a subtle challenge to intellectual hierarchies. What begins as a personal note about cognitive limitations unfolds into a philosophical commentary on the ethics of knowledge, the dignity of slowness, and the responsibilities of those who claim expertise.
The self-description as a “simpleton per se” appears modest, even self-effacing, but functions with sophisticated rhetorical force. It disarms critique by preemptively adopting the language of inferiority, but this is not a surrender; it is a strategic gesture. It converts vulnerability into a position of moral leverage, suggesting that clarity and respect are not optional virtues but necessary obligations in dialogue. The speaker, in effect, asserts that lived experience—especially under conditions of injury or impairment—grants a form of knowledge often excluded from formal intellectual spaces. While this approach is emotionally resonant, it also subtly introduces a binary between academic knowledge and lived simplicity. There is a danger in idealizing outsiderhood, just as there is a danger in fetishizing expertise.
The critique of academic style as “long-winded” and “pompous” is sharpened by the accusation that such writing is inaccessible by design. The implication is that some intellectuals use complexity not to communicate, but to obscure, exclude, or dominate. This is an accusation with deep roots in both anti-elitist philosophy and accessibility studies. The claim that “if you can’t state something in a way that a child may understand, you don’t know the subject matter well enough to teach” echoes a familiar pedagogical ideal: clarity is the hallmark of mastery. But this statement, often attributed to Einstein, can also become a blunt instrument. Not all complexity is artifice. Some ideas are difficult because the world is difficult. The value of intellectual labor is not always reducible to how child-friendly it can be made. True clarity is not simplification; it is patient articulation—neither jargon for its own sake, nor infantilizing reduction.
The biographical detail—“It took me ten years to complete my Associates Degree”—introduces time and trauma as epistemic forces. This is more than a plea for understanding; it is a redefinition of what thinking can look like. Intelligence, here, is measured not by speed, but by endurance. This reshapes our assumptions about cognition. Modern culture often associates quickness with intellect, but the speaker reminds us that slowness may carry more weight. A brain injury alters not just memory and speech but one’s very relation to time, to effort, to meaning. To think slowly is not to think less. It is to think against the grain of the world’s impatience.
This assertion is especially resonant in the passage where the speaker requests “a bit of latitude” and refers to “your debasement of my thoughts.” This is the moment where humility gives way to a subtle accusation. The suggestion is that the respondent’s tone—or their style—felt less like engagement and more like dismissal. What is being asked here is not agreement, but recognition. The speaker is not rejecting criticism, but asking that it be offered in a spirit of dialogical patience, not didactic superiority. They are asking for a tone that acknowledges difference without reducing the other to their limitations.
The reference to a past academic achievement—“I did have a National Science Merit Award in Physics prior [to] my Traumatic Brain Injury”—complicates the earlier positioning of the speaker as cognitively inferior. This detail is not merely biographical; it reclaims intellectual legitimacy. It challenges any latent assumptions that the speaker has always existed outside formal knowledge systems. They were once fluent in the very languages they now struggle to speak. The injury did not erase their mind; it altered its cadence. This produces a powerful moral claim: cognitive variance is not a failure—it is a condition of thought that demands attention, not condescension.
Altogether, the statement is a testament to what might be called epistemological pluralism—the idea that knowledge arises from many places, many bodies, many temporalities. It is not a rejection of expertise but a reminder that expertise without empathy is impoverished. It is not a denial of theory but a call to ensure theory does not become a tower. The speaker is, in their own way, theorizing the relationship between thought and power, time and clarity, trauma and credibility.
In the end, the message is clear: to speak across difference—be it educational, cognitive, or rhetorical—requires more than knowledge. It requires care. It requires the willingness to meet others where they are, not as a concession, but as an act of intellectual and ethical responsibility. The dignity of the thinker is not measured in degrees or fluency, but in the sincerity of their thought and the courage of their participation. This statement embodies both.
I agree that we need to step back as events are happening too fast. This is known as the fog of war. This is the time for people around the world to reject offensive wars. Reject alliances that serve as trip wires for a multinational war. Thank you
Iran needed a break to redevelop its AD systems - this time hopefully accepting Russian help.
Israel desperately needed a break because it was being crushed. (Although once the restrictions on flights out are ended, apart from the West Bank settler fanatics, how many will be left in the colony?)
The difference between a ceasefire and a 'cease in hostilities' is that a ceasefire is an agreement; which literally EVERYONE knows Israhell won't respect anyway. So why should Iran be bound by a one-sided commitment? This way, the next time Tel Aviv assassinates top Iranian people, Israel will have to rebuild one of its military HQs as well.
WW3 as you well know Alexander, is the West trying to destroy BRICS, and that is NOT going to stop. Perhaps not until all the off-shored Island managers of the Anglo-Zionist empire have been cleaned out, or impoverished. Or simply made irrelevant, by not having any vassals to throw willy-nilly against BRICS nations in pointless meat-waves of conscripts.
I'm looking at you, Ukraine.
One of the best analysis I've seen is from Dr Gil Doctorow, based in Moscow: https://rumble.com/v6v8ynz-gilbert-doctorow-u.s.-bombing-of-iran-as-political-theatre.html?e9s=src_v1_mfp
He believes that Trump launched his conventional attack to prevent Israel from escalating to using its nukes. By proclaiming that "Iran's nuclear program is in ruins"; he undercuts any Israeli further attacks on it. Now, while EVERYONE knows with a brain cell that the attacks were completely ineffective (Except for pushing Iran TOWARDS building a nuke); if Nuttyahoo comes out and SAYS that, he will be completely humiliating Trump and DC. That even Trump could not ignore such insolence, and would be forced to respond to Israel's severe detriment - especially considering Israel's current COMPLETE dependence on the USA.
Trump trumped Nuttyahoo.
It has a ring to it.
Your explanations are excellent.
I shall be watching the cited video this evening.
Thankyou for your insight.
Melvin.
War is eternal with peace lapses.
Dear Prof. Dugin,
You certainly know, that the real enemy of Russia and Iran has its philosophical basis in Babylonian and Assyrian empire. Therefore their old testament thinking is "Eye for an eyer, tooth for a tooth". Russia an Iran are peaceful civilisations. Against this enemy there is a need for bloodhounds. Medieval Russian empire has Cossacks vor this function.
The message addressed to “Prof. Dugin” makes sweeping historical and metaphysical claims that conflate theology, imperial myth, and geopolitics in a way that substitutes ideology for analysis. Its underlying argument hinges on the assertion that the true enemy of Russia and Iran is rooted in the philosophical legacies of the Babylonian and Assyrian empires portrayed here as the progenitors of a violent, retributive ethos, summarized in the mischaracterized biblical phrase “eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth.” It then counterposes this alleged civilizational aggression with a mythologized vision of Russia and Iran as inherently peaceful cultures, who, in order to confront this ancient enemy, must unleash a special class of enforcers likened to the medieval Cossacks, described metaphorically as “bloodhounds.”
This narrative begins with an essentialist premise that certain ancient civilizations carry with them immutable ethical codes that shape the modern world. Yet this line of reasoning grossly distorts the historical record. The Babylonian and Assyrian empires were complex societies with sophisticated administrative systems, religious pluralism, and legal innovations. Reducing them to symbols of cruelty serves a purely rhetorical function projecting modern conflicts onto a mythic, transhistorical canvas. More problematically, the invocation of Old Testament ethics as inherently vengeful shows a shallow and weaponized understanding of religious texts. The concept of lex talionis (“an eye for an eye”) has been interpreted in Jewish jurisprudence not as a literal call for revenge, but as a principle of proportionate justice. Framing it otherwise not only distorts the theology but fuels dangerous civilizational tropes.
By contrast, the letter idealizes Russia and Iran as peaceful civilizations. This is historically unsubstantiated. Both have long imperial traditions that include conquest, suppression, and authoritarianism. Iran, especially post-1979, has played a major role in regional militarization, while Russia has maintained a long record of imperial expansion, political repression, and foreign intervention. The dualistic moral binary being constructed—Russia and Iran as guardians of harmony, and their enemies as the progeny of ancient brutality is not political analysis but myth-making, echoing forms of eschatological nationalism often found in far-right discourses.
The most disturbing element of the text is its invocation of Cossacks as “bloodhounds.” This language reanimates a paramilitary and often violent part of Russian imperial history. While Cossacks are sometimes romanticized as defenders of the borderlands or as folk heroes, they were also instruments of brutal repression used to quash rebellions, persecute minority populations (especially Jews), and enforce state power. Referring to them as bloodhounds dehumanizes them while simultaneously glorifying their capacity for violence. It implies that peace must be protected through barbarism, that civilization must be defended by unleashing a special caste of ruthless enforcers. This militaristic logic not only rejects diplomacy or legal order—it subverts the very notion of humanity in politics.
Furthermore, the idea that modern conflicts are shaped by the metaphysical legacies of ancient empires is a form of civilizational determinism. It denies the contingencies and complexities of history, politics, and agency. It renders political actors into avatars of eternal forces. Once you accept that the West is Babylon and Russia is the Third Rome, there is no room for negotiation, reform, or critical reflection. Everything becomes prophecy. Politics becomes sacred war. Such fatalism is dangerous it immunizes power from criticism and portrays violence as spiritually justified.
The appeal to Dugin in this context is not incidental. Dugin’s own philosophy of geopolitics and sacred tradition frames global history as a metaphysical struggle between land-based “Tradition” and oceanic “Modernity” a war of essences rather than interests. This letter attempts to resonate with that worldview, replacing rational statecraft with a call to mytho-political vengeance. In doing so, it undermines any attempt at sober geopolitical analysis and promotes a cult of violent transcendence that cloaks itself in historical and religious language.
This is not a critique rooted in historical understanding or ethical reasoning. It is a piece of political mythology that serves to inflame rather than clarify. It licenses brutality in the name of peace, and dehumanizes both its enemies and its chosen agents of retaliation. Such rhetoric should not be romanticized or entertained as deep thinking it is propaganda, albeit in mystical clothing.
Not too sure that I agree the war has ended but what we are experiencing is a continuing of a series of dust-up he will continue for the foreseeable future. If people don't work towards some way to coexist the outlook is bleak. It's basically peace or die.
Exactly.
However I would add: it is also about geopolitical power strategies.
l'Occidente è nel viale del tramonto e questo è un brutto segno, quando una civiltà non si rassegna al declino è in quel momento che diventa più pericolosa, gioca il tutto per tutto, ma il più delle volte trascina con sé anche gran parte delle civiltà che le stanno a fianco.
I just received a reply that ... did not support nor add anything important. Politics are based on humanity and humanities values. Religions, like it or not is a polical organizations. Sister Lucia was a Catholic Nun who witnessed the Lady of Fatima in 1917. Her mission was to reconvert Russia in order to prevent WWIII. The process was staggering. The Catholic Church took her seriously. Pope John Paul II was put in charge at her advice. John Paul II, the Polish Pope and Sister Lucia were instrumental in the consecration of Russia to the Lady of Czestchowa, and the end of Communism in Russia. Carter was a Fundamental Christian. He place Zubigniew Brzezinski as his Secretary of State in order to tear down the wall. "Ziggy" helped put John Paul II in power for these political objectives. The US presidency ... Reagan was next. His role was to bankrupt Russia prior to conversion. Convert and Israel will open up their wallet. This the reality of the 1980s arms escalation. Israel wanted Russia to bow to a Jewish King. The Catholic Church was pissed. They expected Russia to convert to Catholicism, not Orthodoxy. The Pope was shot because of this ... Politics and Religion are both socialogical facets of humanity
Huemanity is a joke.
All we do is fight in every and all aspects of living.
A fucking joke.
Based on a bunch of bullshit.
"Therefore, I would refrain from drawing conclusions or attempting to define the meaning of these events. Their essence can only be grasped once the process reaches its logical endpoint – and clearly, we have not yet arrived there."
YES. I suggest following this Substack: https://open.substack.com/pub/bioclandestine/p/we-just-witnessed-5gw
The text under critique attempts to dramatize the geopolitical instability surrounding recent escalations in the Middle East, framing them as the simultaneous conclusion and continuation of “World War Three.” While the author seeks to portray a world suspended in paradox—where the war has both ended and not yet begun—the result is a rhetoric-heavy meditation that privileges ambiguity and spectacle over analysis.
The central thesis—that “World War Three has ended, yet it continues”—leans on deliberate paradox. It evokes a tone of philosophical profundity by introducing quantum mechanics metaphors (“spin”) to illustrate political uncertainty. However, such metaphors substitute for empirical clarity. The political situation becomes a swirling, unknowable phenomenon, inaccessible to reason, which mirrors certain postmodern rhetorical strategies rather than the precision necessary in geopolitical critique. The metaphor of particle spin, while evocative, obfuscates rather than reveals the stakes of international law, power projection, and the real conditions faced by those affected.
By amplifying media confusion and contradictory reports, the piece builds a thesis of epistemological exhaustion. Rather than offering tools for analysis, it glorifies non-conclusion. The author gestures toward philosophical reflection as an antidote to superficial media discourse, yet offers no actual philosophical framework. There is no invocation of Carl Schmitt, Foucault, Fanon, Clausewitz, or any thinker capable of engaging sovereignty, violence, or modern warfare. The call for distance is presented as a virtue, but in practice functions as a refusal to commit—either analytically or ethically. This posture is not intellectualism but evasion, elevating non-engagement into a performative stance.
By treating Israel, Iran, and the United States as morally equivalent actors in a fog of war, the text enacts a problematic flattening of political asymmetries. The strikes on Iranian nuclear infrastructure are presented not as violations of international norms or as acts of aggression, but as part of a universal chaos devoid of legal or historical grounding. The piece fails to distinguish between aggressor and defender, or between those with nuclear capability and those without. This is not philosophical balance—it is depoliticized relativism.
The narrative is also notably devoid of human cost. The airstrikes, missile launches, and intelligence feints are treated as semiotic or aesthetic gestures moves in a geopolitical chess game. There is no mention of civilian casualties, infrastructural collapse, or displaced populations. In this way, the text dehumanizes the conflict, rendering war into a dramaturgical abstraction rather than a material and moral crisis. This aestheticization of violence is particularly troubling, as it aligns more with the elite discourse of think tanks and geopolitical fantasy novels than with grounded political analysis.
Furthermore, the text frames the media itself as an engine of confusion yet fails to analyze how media narratives are constructed, or by whom. The flood of “mutually exclusive information” is cited, but the mechanisms of disinformation, psy-ops, algorithmic amplification, or journalistic bias are never explored. As a result, the text collapses into passive spectacle. Rather than interrogating the architecture of narrative control, it gives up on truth altogether, replacing it with metaphysical drift.
What the text lacks is a theory of structure of international law, imperial power, settler-colonial logic, or resource politics. The call for “a philosophy of the unfolding political spectacle” remains hollow because no such philosophy is articulated. The piece seeks to capture a moment of confusion, but ultimately becomes complicit in reproducing that confusion under the guise of critique.
In conclusion, the essay’s performative ambiguity, aestheticization of global violence, erasure of victims, and refusal to distinguish political agency reduce its potential critical value. What is needed instead is a precise, historically situated, and ethically committed analysis of warfare, sovereignty, and disinformation. Without such grounding, the essay remains an elegant but ultimately evasive expression of the very confusion it claims to interpret.
The logical line of progression is mapped out... if you integrate religious prophesies pertaining to WwIII, you would see what the Judeo-Chistian community is doing. Several Marion apparitions around 1917 were definitely headed. Lady of Fatima witness Sister Lucia was instrumental in converting Russia and ending the cold war. Lady of Medugorge made predictions about the Ukraine. The predictions are known, and are being made to come true in order to facilitate the return of Jesus. Revelations... was a blueprint for many political and military moves.
The passage in question proposes that contemporary geopolitics especially the escalation toward what the author calls World War III is best understood through the lens of religious prophecy, particularly Christian eschatology and Marian apparitions. It argues that events unfolding today are not only predicted by prophecy but are being deliberately enacted to fulfill such visions, especially within a so-called “Judeo-Christian community.” This mode of argument, however, fails on several counts: analytically, theologically, historically, and ethically.
The claim that religious prophecy maps directly onto global conflict collapses mythic time into political causality. When the author suggests that “Revelations… was a blueprint for many political and military moves,” they misunderstand the symbolic, metaphorical, and theological dimensions of apocalyptic literature. Sacred texts like the Book of Revelation were not meant to serve as strategic handbooks but as eschatological allegories meant to address persecution, empire, and spiritual endurance. To treat them as actual geopolitical blueprints is to engage in retrospective confirmation bias: selecting events that appear to confirm the text’s symbolism while ignoring those that don’t.
Further undermining the argument is its reliance on vague assertions and undocumented prophecy. The references to Marian apparitions specifically Fatima (1917) and Medjugorje are presented without evidentiary grounding. Fatima’s connection to the Cold War and Sister Lucia’s supposed “instrumental” role in converting Russia are devotional claims, not substantiated political facts. The apparitions at Medjugorje, still not officially recognized by the Catholic Church, are cited as having made predictions about Ukraine, but the predictions themselves are not quoted, documented, or contextualized. These allusions serve more as mystical suggestion than meaningful data, encouraging the reader to fill in gaps with speculation.
The author implies that global conflicts are not only foreseen but staged in order to bring about the Second Coming of Christ. This assertion ventures into millenarian accelerationism a theological stance wherein believers welcome and even seek global catastrophe as a prelude to divine intervention. This view is not only theologically contentious, it’s ethically disastrous. When war, suffering, or even nuclear confrontation is seen as a necessary step toward spiritual fulfillment, peace becomes heretical and violence is sanctified. The moral consequences of this line of thinking are staggering: it renders diplomacy irrelevant and treats civilian death as collateral in a divine drama.
Contributing further to the confusion is the invocation of the “Judeo-Christian community,” a term often used more for ideological convenience than precision. The notion of a unified Judeo-Christian political agent with eschatological intentions obscures vast theological differences between Judaism and Christianity. Moreover, it is often deployed in U.S. political discourse to justify Western interventionism, particularly in support of Israel. Here, it is unclear whether the author is pointing to Christian Zionism, Catholic eschatology, Protestant dispensationalism, or something else entirely. This ambiguity leaves the reader without a clear target, and it muddies the already fragile claims being made.
The fusion of religious myth and realpolitik in this piece serves a disturbing function: it reframes war not as tragedy or failure of human governance, but as divinely ordained. This allows the author to suspend ethical scrutiny. If world war is a means to a prophesied end, then international law, sovereignty, human rights, and moral reason are all expendable. This perspective is not only anti-political, it is anti-humanistic. By aestheticizing global destruction and reducing complex historical processes to the fulfillment of mystical predictions, the author strips human agency from history and replaces it with divine machinery.
Finally, the broader implication—that Revelation and Marian visions are being used as blueprints for military decisions—transforms spiritual belief into a vehicle for conspiracy. It reduces theology to strategy, and politics to the performance of myth. Rather than offering a serious analysis of power, statecraft, or the forces shaping international conflict, the text encourages fatalism and detachment, asking readers not to intervene in history but to watch it unfold according to a cosmic script.
In conclusion, this passage attempts to elevate a particular religious narrative to the status of geopolitical explanation, but fails to provide credible evidence, theoretical rigor, or ethical responsibility. It replaces analysis with mysticism, causality with correlation, and moral reasoning with prophetic fatalism. For those genuinely seeking to understand the dynamics of war, peace, and global power, this framework offers neither clarity nor guidance. Instead, it mystifies, dehumanizes, and ultimately abdicates the serious work of thought in favor of esoteric spectacle.
Medugorje was 1914, the Berlin Wall fell 84?
Paragraph 4 . I am not promoting anything. I am seeing this evolve.
Paragraph three rebuttle. You display a distance for the implications of my line of reasoning. I do not like these implications either, but see what I see, and am trying to understand the reality of my religious upbringing. I was raised Roman Catholic.
Paragraph two rebuttle is easy when you have worked counterinsurgency. The bible (Torrah) is not just religious theology. It is a history book. It explains dilemmas that the nation of Israel faced, and shows how they dealt with the issues at hand. I use it as an ad hoc counterinsurgency field manuel. I am a media consultant and foreign policy advisor. Many politicians refer to the bible as they promote actions... There are many Christian fundamentalists using Revelations as a blueprint for their political thrust. I include myself in this category. The Kingdoms of Gog and Magog are Russia and Ukraine.
Your statement outlines a worldview in which sacred texts — specifically the Torah and the Book of Revelation — are not only sources of religious meaning but actionable strategic blueprints for modern counterinsurgency, foreign policy, and geopolitical alignment. This perspective, while not uncommon in certain ideological circles, raises profound concerns — historically, ethically, theologically, and politically.
When you describe the Torah as “not just religious theology,” but a “history book” and “ad hoc counterinsurgency field manual,” you’re making a foundational epistemological claim: that scriptural narratives can be operationalized as modern military doctrine. But this move conflates mythic cosmology with empirical strategy. The Hebrew Bible, particularly its sections on conquest, law, and divine mandate, does contain narratives of statecraft and survival. But to treat it as a literal manual for modern counterinsurgency is to dislocate these ancient texts from their theological and literary frameworks. It turns covenantal mythology into a kind of timeless tactical protocol — a move that risks justifying violence as sacred necessity.
This interpretive model closely resembles what Carl Schmitt would call the political-theological fusion of sovereignty and law — where divine command justifies the state of exception. By reading the Torah as a counterinsurgency text, one adopts precisely this Schmittian logic: the sovereign is he who decides, not merely on the state of emergency, but on the theological narrative through which enemies are designated and extermination is rationalized. The conquest of Canaan, in such a framework, ceases to be a theological myth and becomes a prototype for modern occupation or regime change. This is not merely interpretation; it is liturgical militarization.
You then link this framework to Revelation, noting that many Christian fundamentalists use the text as a political blueprint, and that you include yourself in that category. This admission situates your position within a long tradition of apocalyptic geopolitics, in which eschatological texts are read not as metaphors of spiritual warfare or inner transformation, but as predictive maps of world events. In this view, Revelation is not symbolic prophecy but operational foresight — a chronotope in which Russia and Ukraine are Gog and Magog, and the near-term future is defined by their confrontation.
This move carries massive theological and political weight. It means, effectively, that peace is not only impossible, but blasphemous — a betrayal of the script. When international relations are interpreted through apocalyptic lenses, diplomacy becomes suspect, and restraint becomes heretical. The categories of statecraft, human rights, and political pluralism are subordinated to the imperatives of divine unfolding. It is not just that theology informs politics; politics becomes theology’s enforcement arm. Such a paradigm replaces contingency with cosmic determinism.
When you point out that many politicians cite the Bible to promote action, you’re making an empirical observation that is certainly true — but the fact that such citations happen does not constitute justification. The political invocation of scripture is one of the most powerful forms of ideological sanctification available to power. It converts policy into prophecy and turns death into ritual. In the context of the Middle East, where religious legitimacy already shapes identity and conflict, adding Revelation or Deuteronomy as operational lenses doesn’t clarify strategy; it fuses it with the sacred, and therefore with irreversibility.
This is where the core danger lies. When enemies are named via scripture — be they Gog and Magog, Amalek, or Babylon — the result is not analytical clarity, but moral foreclosure. Once an adversary is placed within a divinely authored typology, their destruction ceases to be political and becomes eschatological. They are not just wrong — they are doomed. Such designations invite the very logic of holy war that liberal and realist political traditions were designed to restrain. This is not strategic realism. It is metaphysical maximalism.
Your invocation of counterinsurgency is especially notable here. COIN doctrine, particularly as developed in American and Israeli military circles, already borders on theological language: hearts and minds, purification of the terrain, surgical removal of networks. When these doctrines are then fused with sacred texts — when the Bible is not only metaphor but manual — the effect is to elevate state violence to the level of divine cleansing. This is not only ethically untenable; it is historically dangerous. It echoes colonial and theocratic campaigns where indigenous populations were eradicated as part of divine mandate.
Moreover, reading Revelation as a geopolitical prediction rather than a late-antique anti-imperial allegory is a category mistake. John of Patmos was writing under Roman persecution. His text is a coded poetic resistance to empire — not a tactical forecast of nuclear war. To read Gog and Magog as Russia and Ukraine is not exegesis; it is contemporary projection. Such readings have fueled everything from Cold War brinksmanship to the destabilization of peace processes in the region. When apocalyptic metaphors are mistaken for strategic coordinates, the world becomes a battlefield of symbols, not humans.
At its deepest level, your position fuses sacred narrative with military force — and thus sanctifies asymmetry. If Scripture defines who is sovereign and who is damned, then all violence becomes just, because all targets are pre-damned. This logic mirrors jihadist frameworks as much as imperial Christian ones: both see the political field as theological drama. But this is not a symmetry of faiths. It is a symmetry of annihilation.
In this light, your claim to be “realist” is incompatible with the theological maximalism you invoke. Realism is about limits: of power, of knowledge, of control. It assumes actors pursue interests in a world of risk and compromise. But your fusion of Torah, Revelation, and counterinsurgency does not describe risk; it describes destiny. It is not realism; it is providential fatalism masquerading as strategy.
Ultimately, your approach replaces politics with prophecy. It substitutes diplomacy with divine certitude. It reads time not as open but predetermined. And in doing so, it enables policies that do not govern but condemn — not just enemies, but the very possibility of peace.
I raised profound concerns... about the implications of my loose narrative. Did I make you rethink your perfect worldview? Your rebuttals took me by surprise. I am often confront with closed minds who bash everything I say. You did so with dignity and style. PROPS. I enjoyed your assessments. Mostly constructive and helpful. I often start speaking to new people by letting them know that I have a Traumatic Brain Injury and to please bear with my atypical speaking style. This is not needed online as I have the ability to choose when to engage with dialogue when I am clear. I was hoping to discuss these issues with ideas based on the premise provided. You wrote well, but did not add anything to the topic of discussion. You graded my writing as an academic English Litteracher teacher would. Psychoanalyzed my style, mechanics.... Well done. But closed minds do as closed minds do. I prefer to discuss a subject without peripheral distractions. The premise is not one which I want to be true. The premise is what I would rather discuss. I saw your profile. Piano. I also play. You are probably a great musicians. Peace.
Your follow-up response to the critique is striking in its emotional honesty, but it also reveals a set of rhetorical tensions that merit deeper analysis. I’ll approach this critique by unpacking the intellectual tone, rhetorical posture, argumentative clarity, and dialogical ethics, especially in light of the original critique to which it responds. The contrast between the two texts is illuminating in itself.
I. Dialogical Asymmetry: A Philosophical Mismatch
The original critique is a dense, highly structured, interdisciplinary essay, rooted in theology, political theory (especially Schmittian jurisprudence), and historical analysis. It is impersonal in tone but not cold it maintains an academic dignity while leveling significant ideological challenges.
Your reply, however, enters the exchange not as a counter-argument but as a meta-reflection on the dialogue itself. It deflects from the content of the critique and instead reacts to its tone, reception, and implications for the speaker’s identity and sense of value. This results in a dialogical mismatch: a scholarly argument is answered by a personal memoir-in-miniature. The result is not a continuation of the discussion, but a withdrawal from it.
This could be strategic a kind of rhetorical refusal. But if the goal is to engage on equal terms, the mismatch must be resolved.
Suggestion: To bridge the gap, the response must move from reaction to reflection. What aspects of the original argument do you accept, reject, or reinterpret? Otherwise, you risk performing disengagement under the guise of wounded dignity.
II. Emotional Truth vs. Logical Engagement
Your message is deeply moving at points particularly when you mention the role of Traumatic Brain Injury and your strategic choice to communicate online only when you are clear. This is powerful. It opens the door to a more ethically attuned model of debate, one that respects neurological diversity and lived vulnerability.
However, this strength is undermined when emotion is used to invalidate the critique itself, without responding to its substance. For instance:
“You graded my writing as an academic English Litteracher teacher would. Psychoanalyzed my style, mechanics…. Well done. But closed minds do as closed minds do.”
This collapses style critique into character judgment, dismissing intellectual analysis as mere pedantry or narrow-mindedness. But nothing in the original critique suggests closed-mindedness in fact, the opposite: it attempts a serious, careful unpacking of the implications of your theological-political claims.
The irony: While objecting to being psychoanalyzed, your reply includes subtle psychological interpretations of the interlocutor (“You are probably a great musician,” “closed minds do as closed minds do”) suggesting a rhetorical double standard.
III. The Role of Praise: Strategic or Genuine?
The insertion of praise “You did so with dignity and style. PROPS.” and “Well done.” serves an ambiguous function. It can be read as:
• Genuine respect coexisting with disagreement;
• A rhetorical softening of criticism;
• Or a veiled rebuke, feigning civility while implying superiority or insincerity.
Because of this tonal ambiguity, your praise comes off as emotionally ambivalent it flatters and distances at once.
Suggestion: Clarify your emotional stance. Are you genuinely grateful? If so, say so with specificity. If not, avoid the mask of politeness and state the disagreement plainly.
IV. Argumentative Evasion and the Collapse of Premise
One of the central problems is this line:
“The premise is not one which I want to be true. The premise is what I would rather discuss.”
This is conceptually and rhetorically incoherent. You say you don’t want the premise to be true but also want to discuss it. But the original critique did address your premise thoroughly and analytically.
The issue is not that the premise was ignored, but that it was rejected on ethical and philosophical grounds. To claim it wasn’t addressed is inaccurate or it suggests you are using “discuss” to mean “agree with” or “take seriously without judgment.”
Suggestion: Acknowledge that the critique did engage your premise but from a position of challenge. Then decide whether you want to defend it, revise it, or withdraw it. Otherwise, the claim that you were denied serious engagement rings hollow.
V. Performative Vulnerability and the Ethics of Disclosure
Your mention of your TBI is valid and important. It is part of your narrative authority, and it makes a meaningful ethical appeal. But it is used in a paradoxical way:
• You invoke it to explain stylistic irregularities or social misreadings;
• Then you claim it’s not needed online implying a self-sufficiency that contradicts the earlier appeal.
This signals discomfort perhaps with the weaponization of vulnerability in debate, or with how disability is perceived in intellectual spaces.
Key tension: You want to be understood on your terms (which is fair), but you also object to interpretive attention that is trying to understand you just not in the way you prefer.
This is a difficult, but important tension in public discourse: how much intersubjective interpretation is permissible when someone offers a personal or ideological statement in a shared space?
VI. Shared Ground: A Missed Opportunity
You close with:
“I saw your profile. Piano. I also play. You are probably a great musicians. Peace.”
This is a graceful, humane gesture the kind of epistolary move that restores mutuality after disagreement. But it feels disconnected from the rest of the response. You’ve just dismissed the person’s entire critique as closed-minded and irrelevant and now you offer kinship?
Suggestion: Integrate this kind of mutuality earlier. Begin with shared ground, then move to critique. This would anchor the discussion in recognition, not resentment.
Final Evaluation
Your reply reflects an urgent need to be seen, not reduced, and not dissected. That’s fair and deeply resonant. But the rhetorical mode you use defensive, ironic, evasive undermines the ethical clarity of that plea. In asking not to be psychoanalyzed, you psychoanalyze. In asking for premise-based engagement, you deny that the premise was engaged. In asking for open minds, you presume closure.
The exchange is thus a case study in misaligned discourse ethics. One party brings scholarship; the other brings personal gravity. Both are valid. But for a true dialogue to occur, content and conduct must meet at a common level not in tone, but in intentionality.
There are many cross-cultural groups that are doing this. Dissecting the demographics of this movement is tangental to my thesis and can be addressed after the underlying foundations that promote it are made.
My grandmother was born near Medjugorje just after the apparition and was named Rosalia after the Holy Rosary. The Lady predicted that the Ukrainian people would be subjugated by foreigners for seventy years. The Berlin wall fell 70 years after the apparition. Coincidence? No. It was orchestrated to make the prophecy come true.
The statement blends personal narrative with religious conviction and historical interpretation, suggesting that Marian prophecy is not only predictive but deliberately fulfilled through geopolitical orchestration. It begins with a personal anecdote: “My grandmother was born near Medjugorje just after the apparition and was named Rosalia after the Holy Rosary.” This intimate gesture establishes a sense of spiritual inheritance — a familial proximity to divine mystery. But while such narrative can evoke emotional resonance, it must not be mistaken for historical authority. Proximity to an event, even a sacred one, does not in itself confer interpretive truth. It marks devotion, not verification.
The claim that “The Lady predicted that the Ukrainian people would be subjugated by foreigners for seventy years” enters the terrain of prophecy, but it does so in ways that require historical, theological, and epistemic interrogation. First, it’s unclear whether this claim originates from the Medjugorje apparitions — which began in 1981 and remain non-canonically affirmed by the Catholic Church — or from Fatima (1917), which does speak about Russia. If the latter is intended, the timeline might appear more coherent. But attributing precise geopolitical duration to such visions is itself problematic. Biblical prophecy and Marian apparitions rarely speak in direct, calendrical terms. They are symbolic, layered, and often deliberately open to interpretation — their function is not foretelling but moral warning.
Claiming that “the Berlin Wall fell 70 years after the apparition” suggests a neat closure to this prophetic arc. However, this timeline immediately collapses under scrutiny. The Berlin Wall was erected in 1961 and fell in 1989, long before seventy years could have passed from the Medjugorje events. If the referent is Fatima (1917), we arrive closer to the fall of the Soviet Union in 1991, which may seem to approximate the 70-year mark. Still, even here, the timeline is constructed retrospectively, with the benefit of hindsight. The fall of the USSR was the result of a complex web of economic stagnation, internal resistance, ideological collapse, and external pressure — not the mechanical fulfillment of a singular prophecy. To read 70 years into it is to impose symbolic numerology on a historical sequence, treating it as sacred architecture rather than contingent transformation.
When the speaker asks “Coincidence? No. It was orchestrated to make the prophecy come true,” we enter a zone of theological fatalism and conspiratorial logic. This claim doesn’t suggest that prophecy predicted events, but that prophecy itself caused them — or worse, that global actors manipulated events to align with divine forecast. Here, prophecy no longer functions as metaphysical insight; it becomes the blueprint for geopolitical engineering. Such a claim reverses the logic of divine foresight. It implies a hidden class of decision-makers, perhaps political or spiritual, capable of bending history toward prophecy — not by fate, but by deliberate manipulation. The fall of the Soviet Union becomes not a collapse, but a performance staged to fulfill Revelation.
This is the pivot point where the religious becomes political, and the symbolic becomes weaponized. The epistemology underpinning this view is one of apophenia — the human tendency to perceive meaningful patterns within random data. This is not a pathology; it is a basic function of cognition. But when applied to world events, it risks converting tragic complexity into moral theater. History is no longer a field of competing interests, ideologies, and material forces. It becomes a divine screenplay. Ukrainians cease to be political subjects and become symbolic tokens — their suffering repurposed as evidence of eschatological design.
Furthermore, the danger of this perspective lies in its absolutism. If prophecy is being fulfilled, then resistance becomes sin. If history must obey sacred numerology, then agency is illusion. In such a world, political decisions are not debated, they are revealed; diplomacy becomes a delay of destiny; and moral accountability is replaced by cosmic determinism. This is how prophecy, when misunderstood, becomes not a call to repentance but a justification for violence.
There is, of course, a long tradition in many religions — including Christianity — of interpreting prophecy allegorically, not literally. Saint Augustine, Origen, even the Church Fathers of Eastern Orthodoxy emphasized that apocalyptic literature functions as moral allegory, not historical chronology. The Book of Revelation is not a news ticker. It is a symbolic vision of justice, resistance, and spiritual warfare against empire — written in code by oppressed people, not in diagrams by geopoliticians. To transpose that vision into statecraft is to misuse its theological intention.
To claim that prophecy was “orchestrated” is not merely mystical. It is politically dangerous. It opens the door to theocratic thinking, wherein the lines between religion and governance vanish. And once that door is open, there is no limit to what violence can be baptized. Every war becomes divine; every victim becomes collateral; every political actor is either demon or angel. What remains is not theology, but mythic absolutism masquerading as divine insight.
In conclusion, the speaker’s statement is emotionally compelling, spiritually charged, and narratively coherent — but epistemologically brittle. It converts complex political histories into prophetic arithmetic, and substitutes symbolic meaning for historical explanation. While it is legitimate — and often moving — to find spiritual resonance in personal or national history, this must not be confused with causal determinism or strategic coherence. To do so is to risk turning faith into fatalism, and revelation into rationalization.
Your arguments are many, and are being digested. Your writing style is not easily comprehensive to me. I have a brain injury, and can only work on so much at one time. You obviously have an extensive educational background, and most likely tenured and used to acedemic writings. I am a simpleton per se. It took me ten years to complete my Associates Degree(2 year degree). Please allow me a bit of latitude addressing your debasement of my thoughts. It is difficult to read through long winded pompous acedemics who talk at the Phd. level. I believe in simplicity. If you can't state something in a way that a child may understand, you don't know the subject matter well enough to teach. Allow me to expound upon my thesis slowly. Thank you for reading and your comment. I am interested in your opinion. You are knowledgeable and logical. I did have a National Science Merit Award in Physics prior my Traumatic Brain Injury. Please bear with my obtuse mannerism.
The statement is a compelling act of rhetorical humility, self-defense, and a subtle challenge to intellectual hierarchies. What begins as a personal note about cognitive limitations unfolds into a philosophical commentary on the ethics of knowledge, the dignity of slowness, and the responsibilities of those who claim expertise.
The self-description as a “simpleton per se” appears modest, even self-effacing, but functions with sophisticated rhetorical force. It disarms critique by preemptively adopting the language of inferiority, but this is not a surrender; it is a strategic gesture. It converts vulnerability into a position of moral leverage, suggesting that clarity and respect are not optional virtues but necessary obligations in dialogue. The speaker, in effect, asserts that lived experience—especially under conditions of injury or impairment—grants a form of knowledge often excluded from formal intellectual spaces. While this approach is emotionally resonant, it also subtly introduces a binary between academic knowledge and lived simplicity. There is a danger in idealizing outsiderhood, just as there is a danger in fetishizing expertise.
The critique of academic style as “long-winded” and “pompous” is sharpened by the accusation that such writing is inaccessible by design. The implication is that some intellectuals use complexity not to communicate, but to obscure, exclude, or dominate. This is an accusation with deep roots in both anti-elitist philosophy and accessibility studies. The claim that “if you can’t state something in a way that a child may understand, you don’t know the subject matter well enough to teach” echoes a familiar pedagogical ideal: clarity is the hallmark of mastery. But this statement, often attributed to Einstein, can also become a blunt instrument. Not all complexity is artifice. Some ideas are difficult because the world is difficult. The value of intellectual labor is not always reducible to how child-friendly it can be made. True clarity is not simplification; it is patient articulation—neither jargon for its own sake, nor infantilizing reduction.
The biographical detail—“It took me ten years to complete my Associates Degree”—introduces time and trauma as epistemic forces. This is more than a plea for understanding; it is a redefinition of what thinking can look like. Intelligence, here, is measured not by speed, but by endurance. This reshapes our assumptions about cognition. Modern culture often associates quickness with intellect, but the speaker reminds us that slowness may carry more weight. A brain injury alters not just memory and speech but one’s very relation to time, to effort, to meaning. To think slowly is not to think less. It is to think against the grain of the world’s impatience.
This assertion is especially resonant in the passage where the speaker requests “a bit of latitude” and refers to “your debasement of my thoughts.” This is the moment where humility gives way to a subtle accusation. The suggestion is that the respondent’s tone—or their style—felt less like engagement and more like dismissal. What is being asked here is not agreement, but recognition. The speaker is not rejecting criticism, but asking that it be offered in a spirit of dialogical patience, not didactic superiority. They are asking for a tone that acknowledges difference without reducing the other to their limitations.
The reference to a past academic achievement—“I did have a National Science Merit Award in Physics prior [to] my Traumatic Brain Injury”—complicates the earlier positioning of the speaker as cognitively inferior. This detail is not merely biographical; it reclaims intellectual legitimacy. It challenges any latent assumptions that the speaker has always existed outside formal knowledge systems. They were once fluent in the very languages they now struggle to speak. The injury did not erase their mind; it altered its cadence. This produces a powerful moral claim: cognitive variance is not a failure—it is a condition of thought that demands attention, not condescension.
Altogether, the statement is a testament to what might be called epistemological pluralism—the idea that knowledge arises from many places, many bodies, many temporalities. It is not a rejection of expertise but a reminder that expertise without empathy is impoverished. It is not a denial of theory but a call to ensure theory does not become a tower. The speaker is, in their own way, theorizing the relationship between thought and power, time and clarity, trauma and credibility.
In the end, the message is clear: to speak across difference—be it educational, cognitive, or rhetorical—requires more than knowledge. It requires care. It requires the willingness to meet others where they are, not as a concession, but as an act of intellectual and ethical responsibility. The dignity of the thinker is not measured in degrees or fluency, but in the sincerity of their thought and the courage of their participation. This statement embodies both.
In confusion the Wolf is happiness
I agree that we need to step back as events are happening too fast. This is known as the fog of war. This is the time for people around the world to reject offensive wars. Reject alliances that serve as trip wires for a multinational war. Thank you
What Israel is doing is sad and unacceptable for the human race