We can all sense that something big is on the horizon. We aren’t sure when or what, but that feeling is there in our gut. It’s like a persistent hum beneath the surface of daily life or an awareness that the world as we know it is tilting. This is the collective intuition of a people realizing that the foundations we were told were unshakable were, in fact, built on sand. I can’t pinpoint exactly when this feeling started, but if I had to guess I’d say sometime during the Covid years.
Looking back that era feels like a collective fever dream. The surreal images of masked faces, empty streets, and the incessant, fear-driven directives from on high have a hazy, nightmarish quality. Society seems to have entered into an unspoken agreement to pretend it was all a bizarre anomaly, a temporary glitch in the system best left unexamined.
But it did happen and in many ways, we should be thankful that it did.
The great service of that period was the complete and total unmasking of the ruling regime. Their performance of care and concern for public health was, for anyone paying attention, a transparent veneer over a deep disdain for our people. Their actions revealed a priority for control, compliance, and the preservation of their own power structures over the genuine well-being, liberty, and very lives of the people they claim to serve. The arbitrary rules, the blatant hypocrisy of the elites, and the ruthless suppression of dissent ripped away the final shreds of legitimacy from our managerial class. We all saw them for what they are.
Yet, the more significant, long-term consequence of those years—particularly during the lockdowns—was not what they did to us, but what they forced us to do for ourselves. Stripped of our normal routines, social circles, and distractions, millions of us were suddenly left with an abundance of the most dangerous commodity to any corrupt establishment: time to think.
With this time, people discovered truths that have long been hidden from public view. They began to question the official narrative not just on virology, but on everything. They researched history that had been carefully edited out of textbooks. They discovered thinkers who had been relegated to the fringe not because their ideas were weak, but because they were too powerful for the establishment to contend with. They connected dots on geopolitics, finance, and media manipulation that painted a picture far removed from the one presented on the evening news.
Communities formed in the digital trenches, sharing forbidden knowledge and building a new consensus based on truth rather than an “official” narrative. People who had never before questioned the world around them began to see the strings being pulled and more importantly who was doing the pulling.
We are only now beginning to see the first fruits of the seeds planted during that time. The widespread distrust in institutions, the rejection of globalist agendas, and the renewed hunger for authenticity, sovereignty, and rooted identity are all direct harvests from that planting. The uneasy feeling we all share in our guts is the vibration of that new growth pushing against the old, rotten foundations.
It is the sound of a paradigm shifting.
Once your learn the truth about something you cannot force your mind to unsee it. This is the true power of the “red pill.” It’s not just the acquisition of a new fact, but the fundamental rewiring of perception. You begin to see the patterns everywhere: in the way history is framed, the way news is spun, the way language itself is weaponized to obscure reality. The constant drip of propaganda no longer hypnotizes you; it reveals its mechanics. The emperor has no clothes, and once you’ve seen it, you can’t pretend otherwise.
This is why the Regime fears the awakened mind more than any organized opposition. They can ban platforms, de-bank dissidents, and memory-hole events, but they cannot delete truth that has already been integrated into a person’s mind.
The legacy media, formerly the sole curators of reality, now perform as a hollow priesthood, chanting decrees to a congregation that has already walked out. Their desperate theater with its manufactured outrage, the relentless catastrophizing, the transparent propaganda only hastens this process. Their credibility was the first casualty in this new war, and it is a loss from which there is no recovery.
This schism is now the defining reality of our age, a divide far deeper than the petty clown show of left and right. It is a fundamental break between two irreconcilable visions of humanity.
The ideological framework driving the Global Leviathan finds one of its most coherent expressions in the politicized interpretation of Tikkun Olam—a Jewish term meaning “repair of the world.” In the hands of a deracinated, international elite, it has been weaponized into a universalist dogma. This dogma is not about repair in any organic sense; it is a mandate for dismantling—the dismantling of nations, cultures, and the very structures of natural human belonging.
This worldview, largely promulgated by a powerful segment of global Jewry that holds disproportionate influence in media, finance, and academia, is fundamentally anti-national, anti-traditional, and anti-Christian. It is unmoored from any specific land, people, or inherited tradition because its architects see themselves as citizens of nowhere, and thus managers of everywhere. Their vision is one of total abstraction: human beings as interchangeable economic and social units, a global population of consumers and subjects rather than a collective of distinct peoples, each with their own cultures, histories, and destinies.
This is why the Leviathan is hostile to all competing organic forms of identity. Strong, independent nations with deep ethnic and cultural roots are a threat to its project of homogenized control. The traditional family—the fundamental cell of any healthy society—is targeted for deconstruction because it creates loyalties that transcend the state and the market. Biblical Christianity, with its eternal truths and command to “come out from among them and be separate,” represents a direct theological and philosophical opposition to this borderless, materialist creed.
The morality of this system is a fluid and ever-shifting code designed to produce perpetual guilt, especially among Western nations and the White majority. This guilt is not a path to redemption but a tool for dissolution. It’s a way to make a people ashamed of their heritage, distrustful of their own instincts, and willing participants in their own replacement. The sacrament of this creed is degradation: the glorification of the abnormal, the desecration of the sacred, and the celebration of weakness, all in the name of a false compassion that masks a deep-seated contempt for human excellence and virtue.
Their god is efficiency. It’s a cold, utilitarian calculus that values profit, control, and social engineering over beauty, truth, and the soul of a people. Its promised land is a homogenized, borderless world, scrubbed clean of the messy particularities of history, faith, and blood—in their minds a world without conflict because it would be a world without anything left worth fighting for.
Standing against this is the growing resistance of those who have awakened to what is being lost. This is not merely a political stance but a cultural and spiritual defense of reality itself. It is the understanding that true “repair of the world” does not come from erasing the created order but from honoring it by strengthening families, upholding tradition, preserving heritage, and building resilient communities rooted in place and faith. The conflict of our age is between those who seek to impose a rootless, artificial world and those fighting to protect and renew the organic, God-given world of nations, families, and souls. The outcome will determine whether the future holds mere management or meaning, control or communion.
The “something” on the horizon is the inevitable collision of these two forces. It is the death rattle of a decaying system and the arduous birth of a new one. The feeling in our gut is the quiet confidence of the builder watching the demolition of a condemned structure. There is dust, noise, and danger, but beyond it lies the promise of a cleared foundation on which to build something stronger, truer, and more permanent. We are not waiting for a political savior; we are becoming the men and women who will roll up our sleeves and rebuild, guided by the truths we found when the world fell silent.
The old world is dying because it is built on a lie, namely the lie of human sameness. It insists that a man is an island, a blank slate defined only by his choices, and that all cultures, traditions, and peoples are interchangeable widgets in the global machine. This lie is collapsing under the weight of its own absurdity. You cannot decree that men and women are the same, that children need no mother and father, that a nation is a mere idea, without facing the catastrophic consequences: collapsing birth rates, spiritual despair, and social atomization.
The lockdowns forced a confrontation with biology itself. As the state tried to legislate against natural human connection by forbidding family gatherings, shutting down churches, isolating the elderly it revealed the fundamental weakness of its ideological project. You cannot ultimately defeat human nature. The innate need for community, for shared purpose rooted in kinship and faith, reasserted itself with a vengeance during the lockdowns. People didn’t just find “conspiracy theories”; they rediscovered eternal truths about who they are and where they come from.
This is why the conflict is so bitter. It is not a polite debate. The globalist regime knows it cannot win the argument on merit, so it resorts to sheer force. It will use every lever of institutional power—the corporate media, the financial system, the judicial machinery—to punish and silence the noticing. They will call you every name in the book, not because the names are true, but because they are the last weapons left in a depleted arsenal. Their hysteria is a symptom of their fear. They see the shadows of the future growing longer, and they know their time is short.
But a new parallel society is already forming in the shell of the old. It exists in the homeschooling co-ops, the local agricultural networks, the dissident tech platforms, and the churches that never closed their doors. This is not a political movement in the conventional sense; it is a quiet exodus. It is families choosing to opt out of the degradation, to build resilient communities centered on faith, family, and folk. They are storing up real knowledge, practical skills, and social capital, preparing for the day when the brittle edifice of the current system finally gives way.
The horizon we sense is not a single event, but a process of separation. The two worlds cannot coexist indefinitely. One is built on sand: on debt, deception, and demographic suicide. The other is being built on the rock of reality. The coming period will be one of great trial, as the old order lashes out in its death throes. But the outcome is not in doubt. Reality always wins.
The task for those who see clearly is not to win an online argument or an election cycle. The task is to build. To have more children. To teach them the true history of their people. To create networks of mutual aid and defense. To be a beacon of stability and sanity in a world gone mad. The seeds planted during the lockdowns are now taking root. The feeling in our gut is the quiet, steady hum of growth. We are not waiting for the storm to pass. We are learning to thrive in the rain, knowing that it is washing away the filth of a corrupt age and preparing the ground for a great renewal.
Andrew Torba
CEO, Gab AI Inc
Christ is King
