Jason RossFor the 250th anniversary of the signing of Declaration of Independence, by John Trumbull, we should be looking forward to the 300th.
Every day brings new sordid and reprehensible details about the
practices of Jeffrey Epstein and his collaborators and “guests.” Some
speculate that the point of his operation was to compile incriminating
documentation of high-powered individuals to be used to control them
through blackmail. But this hypothesis misses the broader cultural point
of sadistic depravity: the formation of a cadre of “elite” individuals
willing to advocate and implement policies that ordinary human
conscience would reject.
Although these hidden facts are now seeing the light, we can look at what has not
been hidden, and ask: How did we get here? How does the world come to a
point where a gruesome genocide is televised? Where the threat of
nuclear devastation is treated cavalierly? Where economic despair is
waved away by pointing to charts of the stock market?
Epstein’s
circle did not arise in a vacuum; elite imperial cultures have long
trained their successors to separate power from empathy.
The
British elite are infamous for the abuse and torment characteristic of
the “public schools” that have prepared scions of high rank for their
future roles as administrators of the brutish empire. What image of man
must be beaten into children to prepare them to treat their fellow human
beings with the disdain required to maintain a hegemonic system? Has
this abuse been tolerated for centuries precisely because it is an
integral part of the pupils’ “education”?
The Epstein affair, far
from being simply a scandal, is a verdict on culture. It forces the
question: What image of humanity is shaping our institutions? If power
is divorced from moral and intellectual development, strategic
recklessness and social decay follow naturally. No reform limited to
prosecutions or policy tweaks can address that root problem. A
civilization survives only when its leadership orients toward the
advancement of human creativity and dignity.
What would such a leadership do today?
The
collapse of the trans-Atlantic financial economic system—the elephant
still in the room—forces a choice: either cling to a fading, anti-human
system, or reorganize society around real production, science, and
culture.
The United States Centennial Exposition of 1876
represented a very different kind of culture than that prevailing today.
The exposition was a grand world’s fair that drew millions of visitors
to Philadelphia, showcasing breakthroughs in technology, manufacturing,
and global cooperation as a celebration of the hundredth anniversary of
American independence. Exhibits of industrial engines, productive
machinery, communication innovations, and artistic pavilions from dozens
of nations glorified human ingenuity and shared advancement on a truly
universal stage. The celebration assumed that progress was the purpose of civilization.
This
year marks the 250th anniversary of the U.S. Declaration of
Independence. Look forward to the 300th anniversary: What should it
showcase?
Imagine a Tricentennial Celebration of the future:
fusion energy projects providing power around the world, and in space;
human settlements on the Moon and reaching toward Mars; advanced
infrastructure and scientific education initiatives that uplift the
lives of billions and make poverty a museum exhibit rather than a daily
experience. Such a celebration would declare the success of a new
renaissance—where human potential is the central measure of
civilization’s success.
This is the culture we should choose: one
that elevates the human spirit through creation and discovery, that
seizes the vast promise of scientific and economic progress rather than
the undignified search for domination. Culture becomes strategy: an
engine of development that shapes policy, fuels diplomacy, and inspires
every generation to expand what is possible for all mankind.