Clash of Titans: Prometheus, Uncle Sam, and what to expect in Trump’s Second Act
Or when 'The West Wing' becomes a bad crossover between 'American Gods' and 'The Sopranos'
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We’ve explored MAGA. We’ve unpacked the tech billionaires. Now, we’re looking at their uneasy alliance—a union forged by shared enemies and ambition but riddled with contradictions. Spoiler: it’s as dystopian as it sounds.
Over the next four years, their partnership will shape policies, redefine progress, and concentrate power in ways that challenge democracy itself. This isn’t just a clash of ideologies; it’s a collision of mythologies, of visions of the future that couldn’t be more opposed. Here’s what this alliance means, what to expect, and, most importantly, what we can do about it.
Trump 2.0
Trump 2.0 comes with grand promises and flashy names. Just days after his inauguration, Donald Trump—call him “the Don”—unveiled a plan for American dominance in AI, boldly titled Stargate. But if you’re expecting a gateway to enlightenment, think again.
Over the next four years, The West Wing is poised to resemble less a sanctum of democracy and more a chaotic crossover of American Gods and The Sopranos. Mythic ambition will collide with mafia-family drama, and the stakes won’t just be power or an Emmy—it’ll be the trajectory of America and the world.
At the heart of this spectacle lies the uneasy alliance of MAGA nationalists and tech billionaires. On the surface, they’re bound by shared enemies and rhetoric. But beneath, their partnership masks a clash of mythologies: on one side, the earthy, cyclical worldview of Norse archetypes; on the other, the linear, aspirational ethos of Greek mythology. This is more than a policy divide—it’s a cosmic struggle over power, progress, and humanity’s future.
The Cosmic Collision: A Clash of Mythologies
At their core, tech billionaires and MAGA nationalists operate on entirely different mythic frequencies. These aren’t just policy disagreements but divergent visions of what it means to thrive, protect, and build a better world.
For the Olympians—figures like Elon Musk, Peter Thiel, and Jeff Bezos—progress is liberation. Humanity’s future, in their eyes, lies in breaking every boundary: borders, biology, even mortality itself. For them, progress is limitless ascent, the belief that technology can deliver salvation. Their ethos echoes Greek myths: Prometheus stealing fire for humanity, Icarus daring to soar, and Babel reaching toward the heavens. These billionaires frame themselves as modern Atlases, shouldering the weight of progress. Rockets, AI systems, and neural implants aren’t mere tools; they’re bold symbols of defiance. Failure isn’t a warning to them—it’s proof of daring. Better to risk the sun’s heat than remain earthbound.
For the Cosmic Defenders, MAGA nationalists, rootedness is salvation. Their mythology isn’t about breaking free but holding fast: to the soil, the traditions of ancestors, the sacred boundaries of the nation-state. They draw on Norse archetypes: the cyclical rhythms of life, the warrior guarding the hearth, the apocalyptic fatalism of Ragnarök. Where billionaires see progress as promise, nationalists see it as erosion—a force that uproots people from the land and untethers them from their identity. Their heroes aren’t pioneers but protectors: the farmer defending his field, the soldier preserving sovereignty, the leader standing guard against globalist encroachment.
It’s a clash between mythologies—between Prometheus stealing fire and Thor guarding the hearth. For the billionaires, fire is defiance, an invitation to take risks and break limits—failure isn’t defeat; it’s proof of daring. For nationalists, the hearth is sacred, symbolizing stability and the protection of identity. Their Norse-inspired heroes value preservation over disruption, continuity over chaos.
These worldviews can’t coexist without friction. Where billionaires see salvation in rockets and AI, nationalists see erosion—of sovereignty, identity, and the natural order. Beneath the rhetoric, this battle isn’t just about what progress means but whether it’s even desirable: should humanity build its future among the stars, or renew with the traditions of its past?
Atlas, caught in the middle, is torn between earth and sky: billionaires invoke the Randian vision of bearing humanity’s future on their shoulders, while nationalists see the worker as the true Atlas, sustaining the weight of the nation with their labor.
Their collision boils down to a cosmic question: What is the purpose of progress? For billionaires, progress is escape—breaking free from Earth’s gravity, biological constraints, even death itself. For nationalists, progress is protection—a way to preserve what they hold sacred or a force to resist in favour of tradition. These mythic narratives define the battle lines over power, success, and humanity’s place in the cosmos. Roots, or rockets?
Yet, despite their clashing mythologies, tech billionaires and MAGA nationalists have found common ground—not in shared ideals, but in shared adversaries. For all their differences, what unites them is a deeper, mutual fear: a world they cannot control. It’s not alignment of vision that binds these strange bedfellows, but a coalition of convenience, born out of opposition to their enemies and a shared instinct to dominate.
The Pact of Power: A Marriage of Convenience
This alliance isn’t built on shared ideology—it’s built on shared advantage. It’s not a brotherhood; it’s a transaction.
Tech billionaires and MAGA nationalists don’t see the world the same way, but they know how to use each other. One provides money and infrastructure; the other provides populist muscle and a fiercely loyal base. Together, they form a coalition that is less about a coherent vision and more about seizing and holding onto power by any means necessary.
Their throne— or is it a power couch?— rests on three legs.
The first looks like a shield. They stand together against perceived threats: big government, globalization, and the woke mob. This defensive posture justifies their alliance as a fight for survival, whether against regulatory oversight, demographic and geopolitical shifts, or cultural change.
The second looks like a banner. They don’t just defend; they proclaim. Whether they dream of building a new Atlantis in space or restoring a fallen empire on Earth, their delusions of grandeur and destiny align, and their shared hyper-masculine fantasies reinforce their belief that the world needs strong men to lead it, whether in boardrooms or on the battlefield.
The third one looks like a handshake. Strip away the rhetoric, and what remains is raw self-interest. This is a mafia-style operation where loyalty is currency, patronage is power, and disruption is just another tool for control.
The Shield: The Enemy of My Enemy…
At first glance, tech billionaires and MAGA nationalists seem to inhabit different worlds. But their policies often converge because they share common enemies, offering a pragmatic foundation for their cooperation.
First, both camps rail against what they perceive as overreach by Big Government and the Deep State.
For MAGA nationalists, it’s about government interference in personal freedoms, regulations strangling the American worker, and shadowy “deep state” conspiracies. For billionaires, the enemy is government regulation that stifles innovation, disrupts market dominance, or favours established players over disruptors.
Elon Musk’s frequent clashes with the FAA and other regulatory agencies embody this shared disdain. Meanwhile, Peter Thiel’s vision of apokalypsis—a revelation that strips the veil from hidden truths—frames the deep state as suppressing freedom and technological progress. This narrative mirrors nationalist critiques of a system rigged against the “real” America.
But despite their outsider posturing, figures like Musk and Trump are deeply entrenched in the systems they claim to oppose. Musk owes his rise to inherited privilege and massive government contracts. Trump, far from a political outsider, is a legacy figure in America’s elite class. Their shared narrative of battling the establishment crumbles under scrutiny but remains a powerful unifying story.
Second, both groups thrive on a tailored version of globalization that prioritizes American dominance.
Tech billionaires leverage global talent and markets to fuel innovation and profits, while MAGA nationalists grudgingly accept these dynamics when framed as a victory for American interests. The tech sector’s lobbying for expanded H-1B visa programs illustrates this uneasy alignment: these visas are marketed as tools for a global “talent war,” a narrative palatable to nationalists as long as it’s framed as a way to keep America on top.
At the same time, both camps treat the global stage as a playground for their ambitions. Musk dreams of creating self-governing colonies on Mars, transcending the constraints of Earth’s political systems. Trump’s foreign policy, meanwhile, resembled a game of unilateral dominance—discarding post-war alliances and institutions to reassert American supremacy. In this shared worldview, the world is not a collective community but a chessboard where only the strongest players survive.
Third, the Culture Wars.
For MAGA, the culture wars are an existential battle—a fight to preserve traditional values against what they see as the encroachment of wokeness and moral decay. For billionaires, it’s ‘Woke vs Wealth’: the culture wars represent a threat to control. Over their employees, who demand progressive policies; over the public narratives that shape their reputations; and even over their own families.
Musk’s estranged daughter, who publicly disavowed him and legally changed her last name, symbolizes this loss of control on a deeply personal level. His public tirades against “woke culture” and pronouns aren’t just corporate posturing; they reflect an underlying fear of a world that challenges his dominance.
Anti-woke rhetoric serves both groups. For MAGA, it rallies their base. For billionaires, it distracts from growing economic inequality and allows them to consolidate power while casting themselves as champions of free speech and innovation.
The Banner: The Hero Complex
While their policy goals often intersect pragmatically, it’s their shared narratives that forge a deeper, cultural bond.
They have a vision: modern Messiahs.
Billionaires often see themselves as modern Prometheans, bringing salvation through technology and innovation. Musk’s ambitions to colonize Mars or Thiel’s vision of transcending mortality align with the myth of the heroic saviour who defies limits for the greater good.
MAGA frames Trump as a divinely chosen figure sent to restore America’s greatness. His own statements, including claims that God protected him during an assassination attempt, reinforce this messianic framing. Both camps thrive on narratives of exceptional individuals ordained to reshape the world. In the words of Rep. Andy Ogles:
“President Trump’s decisive leadership stands in stark contrast to the chaos, suffering, and economic decline Americans have endured over the past four years. He has proven himself to be the only figure in modern history capable of reversing our nation’s decay and restoring America to greatness, and he must be given the time necessary to accomplish that goal. To that end, I am proposing an amendment to the Constitution to revise the limitations imposed by the 22nd Amendment on presidential terms. This amendment would allow President Trump to serve three terms, ensuring that we can sustain the bold leadership our nation so desperately needs.”
-Rep. Andy Ogles
Their alignment with cosmic orders—Promethean innovation for billionaires, and a return to a mythical golden age for nationalists—creates an overlapping framework of justification for their power.
They have a quest: the New Atlantis, or America’s New ‘Golden Age'.
For tech billionaires, the future is a golden age of innovation: a reimagined Atlantis where humanity overcomes its earthly limitations through rockets, AI, and immortality. For MAGA, America is Back signals a restoration of dominance, strength, and traditional values.
Both visions reject the present as insufficient and position themselves as the architects of a superior future. This shared sense of destiny unites them, even as their definitions of utopia diverge.
And… they’re compensating for another complex: they’re wannabe hyper-masculine heroes seeking alpha.
Jeff Bezos and Elon Musk aren’t just billionaire entrepreneurs; they’ve rebranded as modern-day heroes and warriors. Check out those pipes, Slick… Jeff Bezos’ journey from moonshots to T-shots—nerdy CEO to jacked entrepreneur—feels ripped straight from a Marvel origin story, the vest-wearing embodiment of "discipline and dominance”.
Or, maybe, Lex Luthor in Patagonia…
Musk, meanwhile, doubles down on the mythos, enforcing a “hardcore” work culture at Tesla and decrying modern “softness”. His rhetoric about the virtue of relentless labor echoes the ethos of “work will set you free”—or, as it was once infamously framed by his idols, Arbeit macht frei. Musk’s obsession with breaking limits and reinventing himself channels Tony Stark, but his antics land closer to a Dr. Doom. Doctor Doom with a Twitter account… and a fondness for the Third Reich.
But come on, he’s not a Nazi—just a Nazi-adjacent guy prone to suspiciously consistent slip-ups.
It’s as if these guys grew up watching too many Marvel movies and decided they were the superheroes, never realizing they were the villains instead: wealthy men hoarding power while insisting they’re saving the world, blissfully unaware of their own hubris. Their public personas echo comic-book caricatures, with Bezos and Musk vying for the title of humanity’s saviour while competing for billionaire dominance on Earth—and beyond.
Mark Zuckerberg brings his own flair to the cosplay, though his version leans more ‘awkward sidekick’ than main protagonist. When he’s not bowing to Musk or Trump, he’s asking Meta employees to channel “masculine energy” into a workplace he claims has been “neutered” and become too “feminine”1 (under previous leadership, no doubt).
Sorry, Zuck, but telling others to man up while you cave down isn’t very ‘alpha’ of you.
Larry Ellison takes a darker turn, playing the role of a strongman billionaire holed up on a sprawling Hawaiian estate while funnelling Oracle wealth into far-right causes. His carefully crafted image merges rugged wealth with patriarchal control, casting him as a benevolent overlord shaping society as he sees fit. But Ellison isn’t Tony Stark—he’s Thanos with a trust fund.
Then there’s Jack Dorsey, the Zen warrior. His self-styled mystique blends tech savvy with ascetic detachment: fasting, meditation, and a “centered” lifestyle that suggest quiet strength. But Dorsey’s selective indifference often feels less like wisdom and more like passivity dressed up as detachment. His hands-off approach during Twitter’s most pivotal moments wasn’t exactly enlightened monk—it was disengaged CEO. Like the others, Dorsey plays at power through control, but his version swaps overt bravado for a veneer of “mindful” superiority.
Together, these tech titans are cosplaying their way through modern mythology, borrowing from Marvel’s heroes while unknowingly embodying their villains. The result is an alpha-male fantasy that’s more comic than commanding. For all their flexing—literal or metaphorical—it’s hard to miss the insecurity beneath the spectacle. Their muscles may bulge, their rockets may soar, and their Twitter rants may rage, but the real takeaway? Beneath all the bravado, they’re still the nerdy kids trying to prove they’re something more.
Until recently, these were just nerds, losers, geeks, and dorks—pathetic little men. Now, thanks to the magic of Hyper-Masculinity™, they’ve transformed into… big pathetic little men. Turns out all the money in the world can’t buy you the one thing they’re really chasing: self-respect.
The Handshake: The Boys’ Club That Keeps Them in Power
This alliance isn’t just built on shared enemies or lofty narratives—it’s deeply personal. At its core lies a shared drive among its key players: the desire to control, shape, and dominate the world around them, bending it to reflect their own vision.
It’s about legacy; about building empires and rewriting rules.
For tech billionaires, the personal and the political often blur. Their lives reflect an unrelenting desire to leave indelible marks on history. Elon Musk’s very public disputes with his transgender child and his control over ex-partners hint at an underlying obsession with asserting dominance—not just in business but over those closest to him. Similarly, Peter Thiel’s funding of anti-democratic movements reveals a willingness to rewrite societal norms to serve his vision of the future.
Through their political alignments, these figures extend their personal ambitions into the public sphere. By influencing elections and shaping policy, they secure their legacies—not just as innovators but as architects of a new order, ensuring their influence endures far beyond their lifetimes.
It’s also about actual overlap and ideological alignment with MAGA.
Figures like Musk and Thiel pragmatically align with MAGA, but their actions and rhetoric reveal deeper ideological overlap. The hood is not incompatible with the hoodie. Musk’s natalist crusade and provocative public gestures (including an unambiguous salute that sparked global headlines) echo nationalist and exclusionary narratives with disturbing clarity. This isn’t just about aligning with power for convenience—it’s a worldview that venerates dominance, control, and purity as virtues to be upheld and celebrated.
This convergence of myth, ambition, and ideology forms the foundation of their alliance. It’s pragmatic yet deeply ideological, transactional yet personal. Beneath the rhetoric of progress and national greatness lies a more grounded and ruthless reality: a system that operates like a mafia, leveraging loyalty, patronage, and fear to consolidate power.
Even as these figures cast themselves as larger-than-life mythic heroes, their methods are far more terrestrial—and chilling. Behind their cosmic ambitions is a relentless drive for control, dressed up in the language of innovation but wielded with the brute force of domination.
A Giant Mafia: Patronage, Power, and Control
Because, Slick, for all the lofty talk of restoring greatness and pushing humanity to the stars, the alliance between MAGA nationalists and tech billionaires often operates like a mafia. Loyalty, patronage, and domination are their currency, and disruption has been replaced by control. The term “PayPal Mafia,” once a cheeky nod to Silicon Valley camaraderie, now feels prophetic—a blueprint for power consolidation under the guise of innovation.
Silicon Valley’s mythology of decentralization collapses under scrutiny. Figures like Elon Musk and Peter Thiel have shifted from iconoclasts to power players, from disruptors to enforcers, and traded disruption for domination. Thiel’s Palantir doesn’t dismantle hierarchies—it fortifies them with surveillance. Musk’s acquisition of Twitter turned a once-public platform into X, a personal fiefdom, amplifying nationalist rhetoric while silencing dissent. Musk and Thiel act as digital consiglieres, guiding policy while shielding themselves with populist narratives. Their tools—algorithms, platforms, and predictive technologies—are wielded not to empower but to control; the very systems that promised decentralization have entrenched a new hierarchy of influence.
It’s a marriage of convenience. The alliance thrives on mutual benefit: tech billionaires provide capital and innovation, while MAGA delivers populist appeal and political muscle. Yet, like any mafia partnership, it’s fraught with tension: Billionaires’ global ambitions clash with MAGA’s nationalist rhetoric, and automation threatens the working-class jobs MAGA claims to champion. The cracks are already showing.
MAGA’s populist façade masks a core truth: its policies overwhelmingly serve elite interests. Billionaires and nationalists alike rely on loyalty tests, patronage networks, and fear to maintain power. Their alliance mirrors a classic mafia family—an uneasy partnership bound by mutual convenience but destined for conflict.
So maybe it’s just business as usual in politics?
Nothing New Under the Sun?
For all the alarm about this alliance between tech billionaires and MAGA nationalists, it is far from unprecedented. The union of wealth, power, and authoritarian tendencies is a recurring pattern; what we see now is merely the latest iteration of a long-standing dynamic, albeit one with unprecedented tools and reach.
The cozy relationship between public office and private wealth is nothing new. The current reliance on tech executives as key policymakers mirrors past dynamics where industrial magnates shaped government agendas. Neither is the revolving door between government and industry—Andreessen Horowitz’ and the PayPal mafia’s increasing roles as talent pipelines for government is continuity, not change. Before ‘Washington Valley’, there was ‘Government Sachs’: just as Goldman Sachs alumni defined economic policy for decades, Silicon Valley is now becoming the brain trust of U.S. governance.
Relationships are also cozy between individuals who publicly hate each other.
“We do not need four more years of bluster and bumbling and chaos. We have seen that movie before, and we all know that the sequel is usually worse”
-Barack Obama, August 2024
It looks a lot like a masquerade, because a few months later, at Carter’s funeral, Obama and Trump were having a cordial exchange. Despite public posturing, these elites share mutual interests: whether Democrat or Republican, their real allegiance often lies with maintaining systems of wealth and power. Same with Zuckerberg and Musk: for all the manly duelling rhetoric, their biggest kerfuffle so far was Meta launching Threads.
There’s a lot happening behind the curtain. The partnerships we see today—between tech leaders and nationalist politics—echo earlier collaborations.
Big Business, Big Regimes: Fascism’s Corporate Handshake
The alignment of U.S. corporations with far-right movements is well-documented. The current partnership between tech billionaires and MAGA is just the latest chapter in this legacy.
Long before Elon gave his heart to the assembly, Henry Ford funded fascist movements and disseminated anti-Semitic propaganda. IBM made punched-card systems to help the nazis track and persecute large populations. During the Cold War, The United Fruit Company had a big role in destabilizing Latin American democracies and supporting to protect its profits, inventing the whole concept of “Banana Republic” and getting their militaries to repress workers.
Does it get any darker, Slick?
… Of course it does! Enter eugenics and social engineering.
The Billionaire Obsession with Shaping the Future: From Eugenics to Natalism
The wealthy have long sought to shape humanity’s future, and the early 20th-century eugenics movement offers a chilling example. Backed by industrial magnates like the Rockefellers and Carnegies, eugenics framed selective reproduction as progress. In the U.S., this led to forced sterilizations and immigration laws targeting marginalized groups. But the influence didn’t stop there. The Rockefeller Foundation funded the Kaiser Wilhelm Institute, where Nazi scientists refined the racial “science” that would underpin genocidal policies.
Today, echoes of eugenics persist in billionaire narratives about “better breeding” and natalism. Elon Musk and Peter Thiel advocate for higher birth rates among the “best and brightest,” tying human progress to selective reproduction. Fertility tech, genetic research, and life-extension projects bankrolled by figures like Jeff Bezos continue this legacy, rebranding control over humanity’s future as innovation. The language may have changed, but the belief in shaping society through exclusionary ideologies remains disturbingly familiar.
New Tools, Same Old Patterns
This alliance is not novel but an escalation of historical patterns. The industrialists of the early 20th century used their wealth to fund authoritarian regimes and control labor movements. Today’s billionaires wield different tools—algorithms, surveillance systems, and global platforms—but the goal remains the same: consolidating power and suppressing dissent.
The military-tech complex is nothing new; today’s brollionaires wealth was built on war innovations. From Cold War collaborations to the military-corporate complex, the intersections of business and power have always shaped the geopolitical landscape. The Internet, GPS, and other innovations emerged from these collaborations, laying the groundwork for today’s tech dominance. The current partnership between Silicon Valley and nationalist politics continues this trend, using technology not just for innovation but for control and enforcement.
The systemic nexus of wealth and power is built to last. These dynamics are perpetuated by a system that incentivizes consolidation. Wealth breeds influence, and influence perpetuates power. This cycle makes meaningful regulation unlikely, as those in power resist changes that would limit their dominance.
The Supreme Court’s conservative tilt and the increasing integration of tech leaders into government make it clear: the system is designed to maintain the status quo, not challenge it.
The same story, on a new scale? The alliance of big business and the far right is not a new phenomenon. It is a recurring pattern in the consolidation of power and the suppression of dissent. What’s different today is the scale, speed, and sophistication of the tools at their disposal.
This is not a break from history but a continuation—and escalation—of forces that have always shaped the world. Understanding these patterns is essential if we are to disrupt them.
The New Dystopia: Power and Paradox in the Digital Age
For all its echoes of history, today’s moment feels different—unprecedented in scale, unrestrained in ambition. The merger of advanced technology, extreme wealth, and an unusually aligned political majority has produced a new kind of dystopia: one that is both profoundly modern and disturbingly timeless.
Unlike past alliances between industry and government, this one is supercharged by the innovations of Silicon Valley’s surveillance capitalism and the machinery of state power.
Spectacles of power: Memes, Coins, and Control
Elon Musk’s meme-coin department and Trump’s self-proclaimed Augustus coin may look like absurdities, but they are calculated performances—symbols of a new, brazen approach to power. This alliance wields spectacle as both distraction and domination, manipulating narratives as easily as markets.
And behind the memes, the policies they sell serve the elite. Tech and nationalism collaborate to package inequality as patriotism: tax cuts, deregulation, and labor restrictions disproportionately benefit billionaires but are branded as “pro-worker” or “pro-nation.” H-1B visa expansions—which allow corporations to import cheap labor—are framed as national competitiveness rather than corporate self-interest.
Historically, business and politics have been uneasy bedfellows. But today, this partnership—however fragile—has aligned in a way rarely seen before. They don’t just control wealth; they control the narratives that justify it. Their power isn't just financial—it’s cultural hegemony, manufacturing consent through spectacle and influence.
The result? A power structure so deeply entrenched that even its failures reinforce its authority.
Surveillance Capitalism meets the Surveillance state
A key step up in this dystopia is where innovation meets authority. Tech innovation and nationalist policies don’t just coexist—they reinforce one another, creating a feedback loop that expands state control while enriching the private sector.
Under the guise of national security, surveillance capabilities are expanding to levels once unimaginable: Platforms like Palantir, X, and Meta work hand-in-hand with government agencies, providing real-time data tracking. Predictive policing—powered by AI—turns social media surveillance into preemptive law enforcement. The Supreme Court’s rulings on executive power have granted carte blanche for mass surveillance programs.
It’s an architecture of invisible control, where platforms like Palantir enable a tech-driven police state, and Musk’s consolidation of personal data transforms digital spaces into tools for private empires.
The Fortress Mentality: the Insecurities of the Rich and Powerful
For all their bravado, the alliance of billionaires and nationalists betrays a deep-seated fear—fear of rebellion, fear of instability, fear of being truly seen.
You can smell it under the testosterone and the sweat. It’s in the fortress-like estates, the private security forces, the dystopian solutions like control chips for bodyguards.
And the fear is growing.
Despite their wealth, their control, their armies of lobbyists and algorithms, they feel the walls closing in. Anti-union crackdowns at Amazon and Tesla reveal their anxiety about organized labor. Escalating legal attacks on protest movements signal their paranoia about public resistance.
Even lone acts of defiance—like Luigi Mangione’s alleged assassination attempt2—provoke an outsize response, not because they’re existential threats, but because they expose the cracks in their armour.
Beneath the spectacle of strength is a deep-seated fragility.
Cracks in the Coalition
For all its bluster, this coalition is riddled with contradictions. Billionaires and nationalists have clashing worldviews, competing ambitions, and fundamentally different stakes.
Billionaires see progress as an escape—rockets, AI, and immortality; nationalists see progress as a threat—erosion of identity, sovereignty, and cultural stability. Billionaires embrace automation and AI; MAGA nationalists want to “bring back jobs.” Billionaires seek a borderless economy; nationalists fetishize closed borders.
Even their aesthetics diverge. Musk dreams of a techno-futurist Atlantis on Mars, while MAGA clings to a sepia-toned vision of a lost America.
Their alliance works only while their interests align. But history suggests alliances like this don’t last. And when this one fractures, it won’t be a graceful split—it will be a violent unraveling.
The Inevitable End
Hubris and overreach have always led to the downfall of those who consolidate too much power. This alliance will be no different.
When it collapses, it won’t just take itself down—it will drag society into chaos, sinking their nationalist Atlantis beneath the waves.
The only question is: how much damage will it do before it falls?
Well. That’s not the only question, Slick. Not is it the most crucial. The real question is…
What can we do?
What Can We Do? Resistance and Its Many Faces
It’s tempting to be the hero. The vigilante who forces a reckoning. The single, decisive act that topples the powerful. It’s an easy story to believe—especially in an age where billionaires cosplay as saviours and politicians cast themselves as messianic figures. But the myth of the lone hero is a trap.
Luigi Mangione’s purported act3 was not a revolution—it was a rupture. A moment of chaos that exposed the cracks beneath the surface, but did not change the structure itself. His actions did not bring justice as much as panic. They reminded us of something important, though: even the powerful are afraid. They build fortresses because they fear the mob. They tighten their grip because they know, deep down, that their control is fragile.
But history isn’t shaped by lone heroes. The real battle is slower, fought in a thousand small acts of defiance. Every empire that fell, every regime that crumbled, did so not because of one grand gesture, but because of relentless erosion.
The billionaire-nationalist alliance thrives on inevitability—on convincing us that their rule is permanent, that resistance is futile. But power always overreaches. It always believes itself invincible, right up until the moment it isn’t.
So, what can we do? We don’t need martyrs. We don’t need messiahs. We need pressure. We need to widen the cracks. We need to strip away their illusions. Every time we expose their contradictions, every time we refuse to play along with their narratives, we take a piece of their power away.
Because their greatest fear is not one man with a gun. Their greatest fear is all of us, together, refusing to bow.
The dystopian implications of this alliance demand resistance, but resistance begins with understanding. To challenge their myths and mechanisms, we must see them for what they are: not invincible, but vulnerable; not heroes, but flawed. Their dominance relies on our acceptance of their narratives—and disrupting those narratives is the first step toward reclaiming power.
Resistance is where you stand.
The fight against concentrated power doesn’t unfold on a single front. It manifests wherever people choose to resist—whether through lone acts of defiance, collective movements, or the steady erosion of oppressive myths. Resistance is rooted in humanity’s refusal to accept domination and a belief that the cracks in the facade can—and must—be widened.
Amplify the Cracks in the Alliance
The coalition between tech billionaires and MAGA nationalists is far from seamless. These unlikely allies are bound together by convenience, not true unity. Exposing their contradictions is a form of resistance:
Globalist vs. Nationalist Tensions: Highlight how billionaires’ global ambitions undermine MAGA’s nationalist promises.
Automation vs. Jobs: Force conversations on how automation by tech giants threatens MAGA’s “American jobs” rhetoric.
Cultural Divergence: Bring public attention to how billionaires’ visions of disruption clash with the traditionalist worldview.
By exposing their contradictions, we highlight the fractures already forming within their alliance, making it harder for them to maintain the illusion of unity.
Non-Violent Resistance: The Power of the People
If violence disrupts, non-violent resistance builds. It lays the groundwork for sustained change, challenging systems of oppression through organization, creativity, and legal means.
Among the most potent tools in this arsenal is direct action and civil disobedience: acts of peaceful disruption that force power to confront its own contradictions.
Non-violent resistance builds where violence disrupts, and civil disobedience stands as one of its most enduring tools. Acts of peaceful disruption—from Thoreau’s refusal to pay taxes to the Freedom Rides of the Civil Rights Movement—force oppressive systems to confront their contradictions and reveal their weaknesses.
More recent movements, like the Standing Rock protests, remind us of the global power of solidarity. What began as resistance to a pipeline became a rallying cry for Indigenous sovereignty and environmental justice. Black Lives Matter marches redefined conversations about systemic racism and police brutality, even in the face of suppression and distortion.
These examples show that civil disobedience does more than disrupt—it builds a foundation for change. Each sit-in, protest, and strike reminds us that progress is born from persistence, moral courage, and collective action.
Movements today also leverage decentralized platforms, encrypted communication, and digital solidarity networks to organize in ways that evade traditional surveillance and suppression. These tools amplify the power of resistance, turning small acts into global movements.
Knowledge is a weapon. Education and media literacy are tools.
Propaganda thrives where critical thinking falters. Counter it by promoting digital literacy, supporting independent media, and encouraging thoughtful dialogue. When people understand the tools of manipulation, they’re better equipped to resist them.
Resistance isn’t just opposition; it’s constructing alternative futures they can’t envision.
Babylon Always Falls
Empires always collapse under the weight of their contradictions. But their fall isn't inevitable—it depends on us. History shows that centralized power is fragile, but dismantling it requires exposing its weaknesses and preparing for the world that comes after.
Babylon always falls, but how quickly—and how we rebuild after—depends on what we do now.
Closing reflection: The Art of Living and the Light They Cannot Carry
They think they are carrying the light. To them, their rockets, their plans, their digital empires shine with the promise of progress. But to the rest of us, it often looks very dark—cold, artificial, and distant from the warmth of human connection. What they forget, what they can never truly control, is that life is not a monochrome of their ambitions. Life is in colours: in the green of growing things, the gold of morning light, the infinite shades of laughter, art, and love.
Their empires are built on control, but life thrives in the wild chaos they fear. Progress doesn’t belong to their rockets or algorithms—it lives in the countless acts of defiance, care, and creation that endure. To resist is to live unapologetically, to carry the light they cannot hold: the light of connection, joy, and humanity.
Resistance isn’t just standing against them; it’s remembering what they cannot see. It’s in the ways we live: fully, courageously, unapologetically. It’s in the beauty we create, the joy we share, and the meaning we refuse to let them define for us. Poetry is resistance. Music is resistance. A meal shared with friends is resistance. A deep breath, taken in gratitude for this messy, miraculous world, is resistance.
The greatest act of defiance may be as simple as this: to live. To live not in their image, but in the full, vibrant expression of our own humanity. To refuse the fear they would instill in us, to refuse their myths of inevitability. They think they are building Atlantis, but it’s Babylon. And when it falls, we will still be here, carrying what they could never hold: the light of our own making.
Because in the darkest of times, a single candle is enough to light the way. And when that candle falters, we carry it for each other, keeping the flame alive until the dawn.
Until then,
Stay Slick
PS: after suffering our new lords’ words and faces, here are some you might find more inspiring.
“The real damage is done by those millions who want to 'survive.' The honest men who just want to be left in peace. Those who don’t want their little lives disturbed by anything bigger than themselves. Those with no sides and no causes. Those who won’t take measure of their own strength, for fear of antagonizing their own weakness. Those who don’t like to make waves—or enemies. Those for whom freedom, honour, truth, and principles are only literature.
Those who live small, mate small, die small.It’s the reductionist approach to life: if you keep it small, you’ll keep it under control. If you don’t make any noise, the bogeyman won’t find you.
But it’s all an illusion, because they die too, those people who roll up their spirits into tiny little balls so as to be safe. Safe?! From what? Life is always on the edge of death; narrow streets lead to the same place as wide avenues, and a little candle burns itself out just like a flaming torch does. I choose my own way to burn.”
-Sophie Scholl
97% of readers would rather see a subscribe button than a billionaire’s face:
Pro-tip, Mark: neutered and feminine have not become synonyms yet—though the confusion might hint at how you view the latter in this brave new world.
As far as I know, he is only a suspect
As far as I know, he is only a suspect
Aye.... we be on the side of creative disorder, civil disobedience, artistic disurption. We mock them, we laugh, we play, we dance outside the lines.
And we gather the Pirates.