President Donald Trump and the Republican Party have desperately lobbed accusations of “socialism” and “communism” at liberals in their attempts to scare voters in this year’s midterm elections.

Conservative political leaders have instituted “anti-communist” propaganda to indoctrinate schoolchildren with anti-democratic talking points, and Trump’s regime has made a habit of railing against socialism in public — with some rather embarrassing results.

But fresh polling data suggests that a fairly large contingent of the Republican Party actually seems to like socialism. And it’s arguably all Trump’s fault.

The survey by the Economic Innovation Group and Echelon Insights shows that Republicans, at 29%, are more in favor of the government owning a stake in independent companies than independent voters and even Democrats.

Two years ago, what share of GOP voters would agree with government ownership of companies?

Now 29% of GOP voters do. More than Democrats.

This must be reversed. Those who pushed for this may come to regret it if America becomes a socialist country. pic.twitter.com/zgrZ1bjulb

— Daniel Di Martino (@DanielDiMartino) October 13, 2026

The polling suggests majorities of each group oppose the idea. But the not-insignificant number of Republicans who are in favor suggests that Trump’s trend of having the government buy stakes in independent companies — communistic behavior that has led some critics to say he’s practicing “MAGA Maoism” — has led some conservatives to welcome the practice.

So much for all that past talk among Republicans about how the government shouldn’t be in the business of “picking winners and losers.” It has taken less than 10 years of Trump-style authoritarianism to get about a third of the GOP on the record endorsing an undeniably socialist policy, if not a communist one.

So as Republicans rattle on about the supposed scourge of socialism, it sure seems like a chunk of their own party isn’t on the same page.

The socialist threat is coming from inside the house https://t.co/vZJjrG2QlD

— Scott Lincicome (@scottlincicome) October 13, 2026

Or, as Scott Lincicome, a vice president at the libertarian CATO Institute, put it: “The socialist threat is coming from inside the house.”

The post Trump’s desperate war on ‘socialism’ is failing within his own party appeared first on MS NOW.

The simplest test for recognizing a collective pathology is to ask each of its members whether they would choose on their own to do what the group is doing.

Join us on Telegram, X, and VK.

Contact us: info@strategic-culture.su

A pipe and an ocean

A gas pipeline is a pipe. It connects a gas field to a consumer, crosses a few borders, and, once built, transports energy at a very low cost per unit. A supply chain that starts at Russian gas fields, goes through an American contract, crosses the Atlantic on a LNG tanker, and arrives at a European regasification terminal does the same thing but with more steps, more markups, and more friction. No engineer, no accountant, no student of economic geography would choose the second option if they could choose the first. And yet that is where Europe seems headed: according to recent reports, Russian energy could return to European markets with an American stamp on it and a higher price tag attached.

I argue that this situation cannot be explained by Washington’s cunning—which certainly exists—nor by Brussels’ weakness—which certainly exists as well. It stems from a cognitive distortion shared by governments, institutions, and much of the public, which has rendered a geographical truism invisible. I call it the pathology of the absurd: the state in which a system continues to follow its own internal rules even as they produce an outcome that none of its individual components, taken on its own, would ever have wanted. The technical term for this mechanism is collective bias—that is, an error in judgment that does not stem from the stupidity of individuals but from the way a group convinces, rewards, and punishes itself.

How to lose a war without fighting it

A methodological clarification before proceeding. No official documents have been released yet (a treaty, an MoU, nothing public); what has been documented is scant and carries almost symbolic weight. Trump announced that Russia will supply the U.S. and global markets with over 300,000 metric tons of diesel immediately, another 500,000 in November, and one million shortly thereafter. Converted to barrels, that’s about 5.9 million in total—one-fifth of global consumption in a single day—and just over a week’s worth of Russian exports at last year’s rate. As a market transaction, it is insignificant, but as a political signal, it is quite the opposite.

Because politically speaking, the implications are much deeper. Moscow has lifted the ban on diesel exports that had been in place since July. Trump stated that the time has come for Ukraine to have a new president and proclaimed an “energy truce” effective immediately. According to an account by a U.S. official, the peace plan being developed by the White House and several European capitals would freeze the front along the current line of control and provide security guarantees comparable to NATO’s Article 5, a reconstruction mechanism entrusted to the World Bank and BlackRock, and a pipeline to bring Russian gas and oil back to Europe, with profits split between Moscow and Kyiv. Washington, meanwhile, is reported to have suggested suspending intelligence sharing and the PURL mechanism if Kyiv continues to strike Russian refineries.

Zelensky stated that the announcement of the truce was news to him and that Kyiv was awaiting details. Lavrov rejected the idea of a pause; Peskov spoke of ongoing contacts. If we leave it to the “theologians of journalism” to debate whether the chicken or the egg came first, we can focus on what lies behind the facts—namely, that Russian energy will return to Europe through a framework negotiated by Washington, which is a likely prospect in the medium term, with moderate confidence regarding the trajectory and low confidence regarding the details. And, it must be said, anyone reading these pages as the chronicle of a fait accompli is misreading them.

By “energy war,” we mean the contest over who sets the price, the route, and the rules governing a continent’s energy flows. In this contest, Europe set out in 2022 convinced it was fighting a moral battle; it cut off supplies from Russia, presenting the decision first as a necessary sacrifice, then as a strategic victory. The assessment after four years tells a different story: Europe has lost its cheapest and closest supply source, has rebuilt its dependence elsewhere, and the United States—which in the meantime had become the continent’s main supplier of liquefied natural gas—has gained both influence and profit margins as a result. When the European Parliament decides that, as of January 1, 2027, even the last remaining shares of Russian energy will be phased out of the Union’s energy mix, the circle will be complete, and the phase-out will be total—just as the other side of the Atlantic prepares to do business with Moscow.

In the tradition of classical geopolitics, this issue has an age-old name. Europe is the western peninsula of the vast Eurasian continent, and its natural logic of supply is continental: pipelines, long-term contracts, and interdependence with those to the east. The Atlantic logic is maritime, consisting of ships, terminals, and spot prices. Mackinder and Spykman, though by different paths, had understood that whoever separates the two systems profits from both sides of the divide. One need not adopt the entire theoretical framework of the Eurasianist school to recognize that geography does not negotiate here, and that for four years European institutions have acted as if it could.

The intermediary model

According to the model that has emerged so far, the United States would acquire Russian energy assets—starting with Lukoil’s foreign division—through an initial payment and a share of the profits, and could purchase, on competitive terms, the hydrocarbons that Europe no longer buys, in order to resell them to Europeans at full price. Washington’s interest is explicit and evident even in the most cautious sources. Trump faces midterm elections, an energy crisis triggered by the aggression against Iran, rising diesel prices, and low approval ratings. On the other hand, the American consumer has no reason to distinguish between Russian diesel and any other diesel.

What matters is the role assigned to Europe. Officials from the United Kingdom, France, and Germany were present at the talks in Florida. Their task is to ensure post-war security, finance reconstruction through instruments designed elsewhere, and, in the long term, open their own energy markets to a Russia that has, in the meantime, forged a direct relationship with Washington. They are the guarantors and the clients; they do not appear among the beneficiaries of the profits. When the diesel agreement was announced, the Europeans expressed irritation yet remained at the table—which is a good summary of where they stand.

And there is also a strange, biting irony in all of this: Nord Stream—which Washington did not want built and which was sabotaged—would be reactivated under a draft U.S. agreement, and the gas flows that Europe lost as a result of that sabotage would once again pass through U.S. intermediaries. If the pipeline were reactivated, Europe would pay to get back what it already had, at a price set by those who neither produce nor consume it. Pure madness.

Why it’s a pathology, not a mistake

We are facing a collective cognitive bias that has evolved to the point of becoming pathological. And it is not a simple “error in judgment,” since an error is corrected when it is discovered, whereas a pathology persists because it is sustained by the very structures that should be curing it. I identify four such structures, each of which is rational when viewed from within.

The first is moralization. Sanctions began as a tool and have become an identity. Anyone who today proposed reopening direct channels with Moscow would be seen as a traitor, not as an accountant. The accounting objection, however well-founded, has no place in the debate. The second is sunk costs: after years of sacrifices imposed on citizens and businesses, admitting that the plan was flawed costs more—in political terms—than continuing to pay the consequences. The third is the delegation of rationality. If Washington is the one to reopen the channel, no European government will have to admit it was wrong. The premium that Europe would pay to the intermediary is, in essence, the price of not having to admit the mistake. It is a bill that leaders present to their constituents under the heading of “security.”

The fourth is the institutional asymmetry between those who decide and those who pay. A parliamentary vote on sanctions generates immediate visibility for those who cast it, while the cost is spread across millions of utility bills and thousands of industrial plants, faceless and without a specific date. In such a system, the most convenient choice for any decision-maker is almost always the loudest one. There’s no need to hypothesize about a hidden agenda or secret plan to explain the outcome. Washington’s interest is stated openly and perfectly clear; Europe’s blindness is structural. These are two phenomena of different natures that have ended up interlocking.

The most serious criticism of this interpretation comes from countries bordering Russia. For Warsaw, Riga, or Vilnius, dependence on Moscow’s energy is not a matter of price but of exposure. The year 2022 demonstrated that an energy supply can be cut off, and the extra cost paid to diversify sources is an insurance premium like any other—or at least that is what the EU has tried to convince the countries of Northern Europe, spinning the fairy tale of a better world that would soon arrive, achieved through military victory alongside Kyiv. A fascinating fairy tale, to be sure, but one that holds up only to a certain extent. Insurance makes sense when the premium is limited and when the insurer does not profit from the occurrence of the loss. Here, the insurer is also the main beneficiary of the rift between Europe and Russia, as evidenced by the very fact that it is about to mend that rift when it suits its interests. Furthermore, dependence on the United States is a form of dependence like any other. The threats to suspend intelligence sharing and the PURL mechanism with Kyiv—if confirmed—show that Washington makes its available supplies contingent on its current political objectives.

Anyone who thinks that using energy as leverage applies only to Moscow has a selective memory. If Europe were to re-enter the Russian market through American intermediation, it would compound its vulnerabilities: it would be dependent on Russian energy and on the American infrastructure that delivers it. In other words, this objection justifies diversification, but it does not justify the decision to never negotiate on its own.

Scenarios and indicators

We can discern three plausible developments, with a 6- to 12-month timeframe—assuming we manage to get through this winter.

The first is the consolidation of U.S. mediation: sanctions eased in phases, Russian assets acquired by U.S. and Gulf operators, and energy flows returning to Europe under contracts that Europe did not draft. This is the most optimistic scenario, though with only moderate confidence. The second is the failure of the agreement, with Moscow refusing a ceasefire, Kyiv continuing to strike refineries, and Washington shifting its focus elsewhere; Europe would be left with high prices and no supply channels. This is a possible outcome, roughly equally likely. The third is a direct overture from Brussels or certain capitals toward Moscow—highly unlikely in the short term, for the political and psychological reasons already outlined.

Four indicators will help determine which of these scenarios unfolds: the text of any agreement setting the sanctions timeline; the name of the party holding the contracts for Lukoil’s international assets; the status of Nord Stream, if and when it is included in an official draft; The outcome of the U.S. midterm elections, which weigh on the entire situation more than Brussels cares to admit.

Added to these is a factor of uncertainty regarding the U.S. counterpart: the energy agreement does not resolve the structural weaknesses of the U.S. economy, ranging from public debt to rising interest rates to debt-financed artificial intelligence companies. A partner with such finances—and such a packed political calendar—is a mediator who offers little guarantee of longevity.

The simplest test for recognizing a collective pathology is to ask each of its members whether they would choose on their own to do what the group is doing. No European government official responsible for energy policy, if questioned in private, would say that buying Russian energy in Washington is the best solution. They would, it seems, provided that others are the ones making the decision.

The true price of a pipeline is the cost of the pipeline itself.

Everything else that is added—and that Europe would pay—reflects the cost of a choice that has never been made openly.

So far, no one has asked that question on the floor of the chamber.

Last month, a federal judge in Washington, D.C., issued a temporary restraining order (TRO) that required restoration of press passes for 78 journalists employed by three news outlets that President Donald Trump peremptorily banned from the White House on September 18. U.S. District Judge Timothy J. Kelly, a Trump appointee, extended that order on Tuesday, granting a preliminary injunction to CNN, MS NOW, and Politico.

While Kelly's TRO was based on CNN et al.'s claim that their sudden banishment violated the Fifth Amendment's guarantee of due process, his justification for the preliminary injunction also addresses their argument that revocation of their press passes violated the First Amendment by retaliating against them for constitutionally protected speech and discriminating against them based on viewpoint. Kelly concludes that the plaintiffs "are likely to succeed not only on their due process claim, but also on their two First Amendment claims."

A retaliation claim requires showing that the plaintiff engaged in conduct protected by the First Amendment, that the defendant's action was "sufficient to deter a person of ordinary firmness" from "speaking again," and that there was "a causal link between the exercise of a constitutional right and the adverse action." Although the government's lawyers did not dispute that the CNN et al.'s journalism is constitutionally protected, they argued that the plaintiffs had failed to satisfy the two other elements.

Kelly disagrees. The "hard passes" at issue in this case, he notes, give journalists unescorted access to the White House "press area," which includes "the briefing room, the press offices, and certain other locations in and around the White House that are open to correspondents." CNN et al. argued that "a hard pass is an important credential because it 'allows a reporter to react to fast-developing news' and gives them 'swift and easy access to key official sources.'" Since "the revocation of Plaintiffs' hard passes matters a lot as to how, whether, and to what extent they can do their jobs," Kelly says, "it is likely that the open-ended ban here would chill a reporter's work."

Trump's "own comments suggest that he intended the revocation of Plaintiffs'
hard passes to alter their reporting on him, bolstering the case that his action here is sufficient to deter a reporter of ordinary firmness from reporting in the same way she had before," Kelly adds. The day he announced the ban, Trump complained that CNN et al. "purposely write negative news" to "try and diminish the Republicans and a Republican administration." Although "the ban would go as far as you can," he added, "I'd love it" if "they could straighten themselves out."

The plaintiffs also have shown "there is likely a causal link between the exercise of their First Amendment rights and the revocation of their hard passes and exclusion from the White House press area," Kelly writes. "President Trump likely banned Plaintiffs from the White House because he believes that their reporting is generally inaccurate and biased against him."

Again, Trump's public comments amply support that conclusion. He explicitly said he was banning CNN, MS NOW, and Politico "as a result of their constant 'reporting' [of] FAKE NEWS," adding that journalists "shouldn't be able to constantly write or report FICTION and LIES when they're covering the President of the United States, the Trump Administration, or the United States of America." When asked whether his decision was motivated by a "particular reason" or "particular story," Trump replied: "No, no. It's really just cumulative stories over the last two years." The problem, he said, was "purposely negative stories."

In a Truth Social post three days later, Trump likewise condemned "Fake News" that he said was "corrupt, purposeful, pervasive, fully coordinated, and totally out of control." CNN et al.'s reporters are "Third Rate Clowns" who "purposefully distort, twist, and degrade with everything they write or publish," he added that evening. "Virtually every story about me, or anything having to do with me, is negative, wrong and, in many cases, DANGEROUS for our Country! No matter how GREAT my Achievements, they trivialize and demean."

Trump offered a similar defense of the ban in a September 28 interview with Time. "It's just bad story after bad story," and "most of them are fake," he complained. "I don't think anybody should be forced to bear fake news, constantly bad stories, because I've done great things." Although "I can name 100 great things I've done," he added, "I never get good press. I never get fair press."

The government's lawyers maintained that Trump or another official "would have reached the same decision" based on the "alternative ground" that CNN et al. had violated "minimum professional journalistic standards" by "publishing classified and national security information." Kelly was not impressed by that belated rationale, which no one mentioned until after the news outlets gave the government a copy of their lawsuit.

"There is no evidence in the record that President Trump made the decision to revoke
Plaintiffs' hard passes on national security grounds," Kelly writes. "Nor at any time has he directly stated that national security was the reason for his decision. When he announced the ban with his post on September 18, he did not mention national security. When he was asked later that day about the 'particular reason' for his action, he did not mention national security."

Trump did mention "national security" in Truth Social posts he wrote the day that CNN et al. filed their lawsuit. But "that expression appears to have been simply another way for him to describe Plaintiffs' alleged inaccuracies and unfairness in their reporting about topics like his achievements or electoral success," Kelly says. "All this suggests that 'national security' was merely a post-hoc justification for the decision, which greatly undermines" the claim that Trump would have "taken the same action in the absence of Plaintiffs' protected speech."

The government also cited letters to CNN, MS NOW, and Politico from the White House Press Office, which were sent four days after Trump banned them. Those letters averred that the three news outlets had violated "the standards of professionalism and decorum expected of those given access to the White House Complex" by "publishing sensitive or classified information" and "trafficking in verifiable falsehoods about national security and other issues."

The letters "hardly move the needle" on the question of why Trump banned CNN et al. from the White House, Kelly says. They "appear to conflate concerns about otherwise protected speech" with "national security concerns," he notes, and they do not even explicitly say that Trump "made the decision for national security reasons."

Each letter lists specific stories to which the White House objected. But Kelly notes that two reporters "had their hard passes renewed after publishing articles that Defendants cite in their September 22 letters as supporting the potential revocation of their hard passes."

The Trump administration tried to shore up its "national security" justification by submitting a declaration from Pentagon Press Secretary Kingsley Wilson. While Wilson explains "how the publication of classified and sensitive information can undermine national security," Kelly notes, she "says little to nothing about President Trump's decision to revoke Plaintiffs' hard passes" and does not say "anything about White House press practices or operations."

The defendants "have not really tried to support" the claim that CNN et al.'s reporting "damaged national security," Kelly says, noting that news stories based on "sensitive or classified information" are "commonplace, for better or worse." If Trump "would have banned Plaintiffs from the White House even in the absence of their protected speech," he suggests, "Defendants would not have had to scramble to make their case with unsigned letters and a declarant who does not even work there."

The evidence of retaliation also supports the claim that Trump discriminated against CNN et al. based on viewpoint, which is presumptively unconstitutional. The U.S. Court of Appeals for the D.C. Circuit, Kelly notes, has held that "the White House Press Area" qualifies as a "nonpublic forum," meaning journalists cannot be excluded because of the views they have expressed.

"It is likely that Plaintiffs were selected by President Trump for revocation of their access to the White House press area because he believes their coverage of him and his administration is generally inaccurate and biased," Kelly writes. "In other words, it was 'an effort to suppress the speaker's activity due to disagreement with the speaker's view,' rather than to vindicate any other purportedly 'compelling governmental interest,' including maintaining professional standards for journalists or protecting national security. Simply put, that is unlawful viewpoint discrimination."

Kelly's decision "is a stinging defeat for Trump's assault on the free press and a powerful vindication of the First Amendment," Caitlin Vogus, senior adviser for advocacy at the Freedom of the Press Foundation, said in an emailed press release. "As Kelly rightly recognized, presidents don't get to use their power to purge journalists because they don't like what they report."

The post A Trump Appointee Says the President Likely Violated the First Amendment by Banishing Disfavored Journalists appeared first on Reason Magazine.

Stormy developments at the US Embassy in Athens: Ambassador, Kimberly Guilfoyle, resigned from her post as US Ambassador to Greece on Tuesday afternoon Prior to the resignation of the controversial ambassador, there was a public statement by the new White House Press Secretary, Katie Zakaria, who said on Tuesday morning (US time): “We have asked […]

The post Kimberly Guilfoyle forced to resign as US Ambassador to Greece appeared first on Keep Talking Greece.

The White House touts a revival in American manufacturing while workers are being laid off

The White House ballroom project is wildly unpopular. Donald Trump doesn’t care. Ben Terris reports on Trump’s obsessive bid for architectural immortality, which is now barreling toward completion, and captures the breathtaking sycophancy required to work for this president:

“We had asphalt going into here,” Trump says, standing on the pathway leading to the residence of the White House. “Now you have the best stone.” He points at a pile of square-cut granite—the type being used to replace the asphalt walkway—and looks to his communications director, Steven Cheung, who is accompanying us on this impromptu tour of the White House grounds en route to the construction site.

“That’s some stone, huh, Steven?” he says.

“It’s incredible,” Cheung concurs.

“Look at the thickness of it,” Trump says. “Normally, you use one inch, as thin as you can. It’s the White House—I said, ‘Fuck it, what’s the best you have?’ They said, ‘We have one that’s four inches.’”

“You’re restoring glory to the White House,” Cheung says, shaking his head in apparent awe.

I found it easy to resist the early dispatches from “UFC Freedom 250,” the Ultimate Fighting Championship event held in June on the White House South Lawn. But Jon Ronson is the sort of writer I can’t help following into battle. Fresh off a new book about masculinity, Ronson brings a delightfully skewed perspective to the fights and the days that surrounded them. The result is a portrait of a planned media spectacle that can’t quite make sense of itself. The best battle here may be Ronson’s tussle with his own photographer, 79-year-old Bruce Gilden, who is a bit of a hugger.

“I’m pretty certain you hugged Stephen Miller first,” I say. “I don’t see Stephen Miller as initiating a hug.”

“You may be right,” he says. “I don’t remember. Look, I do things maybe other people aren’t comfortable doing, but I felt comfortable and I trust my instincts.”

He acknowledges that “nobody is immune to misreading a situation” and that because of him we were all forced back indoors, but he blames Miller’s entourage for not checking with their boss on whether he minded being hugged.