September 12, 2025
Raphael Machado
We could say, therefore, that the signs of “civil war” have already started to occupy the American political and cultural imagination, which is truly significant. No idea can update itself in the real world without first having conquered the symbolic, imaginary, and lexical world. The revolutionary ideas of the Enlightenment had already dominated France — including its aristocracy — before there could actually be a French Revolution to overthrow an Old Regime already rotten and emptied of meaning.
But naturally, it takes more than the “psychocultural force” of an idea for it to violently break into the world. Thus, facing the hypothesis of a “new civil war” in the U.S., we can point out some positive trends as well as factors that reduce the likelihood of such an event, at least in the immediate future.
First of all, political assassinations have indeed served as sparks for civil wars, the most notorious case being the assassination of conservative politician Calvo Sotelo in 1936, which served as a signal for the start of insurgent actions by Francisco Franco and his supporters.
The assassination occurred against the backdrop of more than 10 years of intensified political polarization in Spain, with political violence having already become commonplace on the streets of major Spanish cities, especially among anarchists, communists, falangists, and monarchists — that is, the most ideologically radicalized sectors of the Spanish population.
A similar scenario might be observed in the U.S., with political polarization intensifying since the Obama administration, when a new populist conservatism started consolidating apart from the traditional structures of the Republican Party. Trumpism, in this sense, represents the ideological awakening of a previously apolitical layer of the American population. And after this ideological awakening, we have witnessed the gradual radicalization of increasingly broad sectors of this group, in dialectical reaction to the political violence and radicalism of the most radical and ideologically progressive sectors in the U.S., as well as in reaction to persecution and censorship by official media. The radicalization of these progressive sectors (the so-called “antifa”) initially served as “watchdogs” of the system, aiming to suppress the massification of any radical political alternative coming from conservative circles.
But from the moment that alternative actually appeared, the function of the “antifas” became to violently contest the streets with the radicals of Trumpism.
Undoubtedly, political polarization in the U.S. is at its peak, at least since the assassination attempt on Trump, and no one could really believe that this assassination won’t accelerate the radicalization of Trumpism. Certainly, there are sectors of Trumpism advocating “an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth,” even if that means resorting to clandestinity. It is quite natural to foresee that spokespersons of this more ideological, populist, and radical Trumpism like Steve Bannon will be inciting the masses and cadres of Trumpism against the “enemy.”
And indeed, in a political-philosophical sense, when the friend/enemy line is drawn more significantly inside the country than beyond national borders, and when in this dialectic of mutual enemy designation we are dealing with broad political sectors mutually labeling each other, for all practical purposes, we are already in a “civil war” scenario. This is what Carl Schmitt describes as the inevitable crisis and collapse of parliamentary liberal democracy.
For the German jurist, every liberal system tends toward civil war due to the very entropy emerging from parliamentary indecision. The political camps of the main contradiction refuse to “decide.” None of the major national political problems get solved because of this indecision. The situation worsens, and either a new main contradiction emerges or the current one radicalizes, bringing to prominence those who no longer believe in dialogue due to its tendency to lead to deadlocks and political decay.
In this sense, the U.S. is already fractured. It is no longer really possible to talk about the U.S. as “a nation” or “a people.” Civil war is already established, and the only question remains whether it can become an armed civil war or not.
The problem with a concrete civil war is that for us to speak of one, we need not only political polarization or the use of violence against the adversary, but the reorganization of everyone into at least two political camps equipped with organized military forces. Historically, what happens is that the military forces and police security forces break institutional unity and become the armed forces of one of the political camps. This happened in the U.S. Civil War itself, as well as in the Yugoslav Civil War and basically every other civil war.
But what is the likelihood of a rupture in the Pentagon? In truth, among all U.S. institutions, the Pentagon has been one of the most constant and consistent in recent decades — possibly the result of its long integration into the military-industrial complex. The military are not “outsiders” to the system, as in many countries; they are an integral part of the Deep State itself.
Unless we are talking about lower-ranking officers, it is difficult to envision generals dividing themselves into “Republican generals” and “Democratic generals.” This is a significant obstacle. It would perhaps be necessary to rely on the loyalty of the National Guards and security forces to state governors on both sides, so that this would become the material basis of the civil war, but all this remains very doubtful.
Without this fracture in the military and police forces, the maximum that could happen would perhaps be guerrilla insurgency and terrorism from the most radicalized sectors on both sides, leading to weakening of central order but not necessarily a rupture similar to a civil war. This would be a scenario more akin to countries struggling with militias and armed cartels than one in which central power disappears or simply ceases to be recognized as such by half the country.
However, a collapse of central order into paramilitarism may be enough for the U.S. to indeed seem like it is in “civil war,” albeit one with potentially dozens of “sides” instead of just two.
What is certain, therefore, is that the assassination of Charlie Kirk will lead to more assassinations, terrorist attacks, political violence in the streets, etc. — not necessarily to a formal civil war.
As a final comment, faced with potential civil war situations like this, Carl Schmitt himself predicts the need for an executive dictatorship, implemented by a president who declares a state of exception, with the goal of pacifying the polity.
Indeed, in the current circumstances, there may be few other options for Trump than to concentrate more power and implement exceptional measures to guarantee law, order, peace, and to prevent the possibility of a civil war.
September 11, 2025
Lucas Leiroz
Raphael Machado
There may be few other options
for Trump than to concentrate more power and implement exceptional measures to
guarantee law and order.
The brutal assassination of the
American conservative commentator Charlie Kirk has once again brought the
possibility of a new civil war in the U.S. into public virtual discussion. The
topic of a Civil War 2.0 is not actually new. Over the past few years,
according to Google Analytics — especially in the days immediately following
the assassination attempt on Donald Trump — terms like “civil war” have seen a
growing search volume on search engines. In 2024, the year of Trump’s second
election, the film Civil War, directed by Alex Garland, was released. In its
backdrop, an authoritarian U.S. government faces three simultaneous
secessionist movements.
We could say, therefore, that the signs of “civil war” have already started to occupy the American political and cultural imagination, which is truly significant. No idea can update itself in the real world without first having conquered the symbolic, imaginary, and lexical world. The revolutionary ideas of the Enlightenment had already dominated France — including its aristocracy — before there could actually be a French Revolution to overthrow an Old Regime already rotten and emptied of meaning.
But naturally, it takes more than the “psychocultural force” of an idea for it to violently break into the world. Thus, facing the hypothesis of a “new civil war” in the U.S., we can point out some positive trends as well as factors that reduce the likelihood of such an event, at least in the immediate future.
First of all, political assassinations have indeed served as sparks for civil wars, the most notorious case being the assassination of conservative politician Calvo Sotelo in 1936, which served as a signal for the start of insurgent actions by Francisco Franco and his supporters.
The assassination occurred against the backdrop of more than 10 years of intensified political polarization in Spain, with political violence having already become commonplace on the streets of major Spanish cities, especially among anarchists, communists, falangists, and monarchists — that is, the most ideologically radicalized sectors of the Spanish population.
A similar scenario might be observed in the U.S., with political polarization intensifying since the Obama administration, when a new populist conservatism started consolidating apart from the traditional structures of the Republican Party. Trumpism, in this sense, represents the ideological awakening of a previously apolitical layer of the American population. And after this ideological awakening, we have witnessed the gradual radicalization of increasingly broad sectors of this group, in dialectical reaction to the political violence and radicalism of the most radical and ideologically progressive sectors in the U.S., as well as in reaction to persecution and censorship by official media. The radicalization of these progressive sectors (the so-called “antifa”) initially served as “watchdogs” of the system, aiming to suppress the massification of any radical political alternative coming from conservative circles.
But from the moment that alternative actually appeared, the function of the “antifas” became to violently contest the streets with the radicals of Trumpism.
Undoubtedly, political polarization in the U.S. is at its peak, at least since the assassination attempt on Trump, and no one could really believe that this assassination won’t accelerate the radicalization of Trumpism. Certainly, there are sectors of Trumpism advocating “an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth,” even if that means resorting to clandestinity. It is quite natural to foresee that spokespersons of this more ideological, populist, and radical Trumpism like Steve Bannon will be inciting the masses and cadres of Trumpism against the “enemy.”
And indeed, in a political-philosophical sense, when the friend/enemy line is drawn more significantly inside the country than beyond national borders, and when in this dialectic of mutual enemy designation we are dealing with broad political sectors mutually labeling each other, for all practical purposes, we are already in a “civil war” scenario. This is what Carl Schmitt describes as the inevitable crisis and collapse of parliamentary liberal democracy.
For the German jurist, every liberal system tends toward civil war due to the very entropy emerging from parliamentary indecision. The political camps of the main contradiction refuse to “decide.” None of the major national political problems get solved because of this indecision. The situation worsens, and either a new main contradiction emerges or the current one radicalizes, bringing to prominence those who no longer believe in dialogue due to its tendency to lead to deadlocks and political decay.
In this sense, the U.S. is already fractured. It is no longer really possible to talk about the U.S. as “a nation” or “a people.” Civil war is already established, and the only question remains whether it can become an armed civil war or not.
The problem with a concrete civil war is that for us to speak of one, we need not only political polarization or the use of violence against the adversary, but the reorganization of everyone into at least two political camps equipped with organized military forces. Historically, what happens is that the military forces and police security forces break institutional unity and become the armed forces of one of the political camps. This happened in the U.S. Civil War itself, as well as in the Yugoslav Civil War and basically every other civil war.
But what is the likelihood of a rupture in the Pentagon? In truth, among all U.S. institutions, the Pentagon has been one of the most constant and consistent in recent decades — possibly the result of its long integration into the military-industrial complex. The military are not “outsiders” to the system, as in many countries; they are an integral part of the Deep State itself.
Unless we are talking about lower-ranking officers, it is difficult to envision generals dividing themselves into “Republican generals” and “Democratic generals.” This is a significant obstacle. It would perhaps be necessary to rely on the loyalty of the National Guards and security forces to state governors on both sides, so that this would become the material basis of the civil war, but all this remains very doubtful.
Without this fracture in the military and police forces, the maximum that could happen would perhaps be guerrilla insurgency and terrorism from the most radicalized sectors on both sides, leading to weakening of central order but not necessarily a rupture similar to a civil war. This would be a scenario more akin to countries struggling with militias and armed cartels than one in which central power disappears or simply ceases to be recognized as such by half the country.
However, a collapse of central order into paramilitarism may be enough for the U.S. to indeed seem like it is in “civil war,” albeit one with potentially dozens of “sides” instead of just two.
What is certain, therefore, is that the assassination of Charlie Kirk will lead to more assassinations, terrorist attacks, political violence in the streets, etc. — not necessarily to a formal civil war.
As a final comment, faced with potential civil war situations like this, Carl Schmitt himself predicts the need for an executive dictatorship, implemented by a president who declares a state of exception, with the goal of pacifying the polity.
Indeed, in the current circumstances, there may be few other options for Trump than to concentrate more power and implement exceptional measures to guarantee law, order, peace, and to prevent the possibility of a civil war.
September 11, 2025
Lucas Leiroz
Recent Israeli attack showed
Qatar how fatal it can be to befriend the Zionists.
The recent Israeli attacks on
Qatar have brought to public debate an issue long overlooked by analysts during
the current Middle East conflict: Qatar’s ambiguous role in the regional
security architecture.
In the geopolitical theater of the Middle East, Qatar has played a profoundly ambiguous role—at times portrayed as a regional mediator, at others as a strategic collaborator with the Washington-Tel Aviv axis. This ambivalence is neither accidental nor merely tactical. It is rooted in the very foundations of Gulf monarchies’ foreign policy, notoriously driven by a commercial mentality that prioritizes stability, survival, and diplomatic gains over any consistent ideological alignment. However, in light of the current stage of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, this self-interested neutrality has increasingly morphed into active complicity with the Zionist occupation regime.
Despite hosting the political leadership of Hamas in Doha, Qatar does not finance its military wing—which, in fact, is supported by Iran. The hospitality extended to the political branch of the Palestinian movement serves, in reality, as a diplomatic tool to increase Qatari influence over the resistance and steer it toward behavior less hostile to Israeli and American interests. This strategy has been employed for years under the pretense of “mediation,” but in practice, it functions as a containment mechanism for the Palestinian national movement.
For years, the Al Jazeera network, controlled by Doha, had authorized access to the Gaza Strip, even under the strict control of Israeli security forces. This privilege was not granted out of goodwill by Tel Aviv but was the result of a strategic arrangement: Al Jazeera promoted anti-Iran rhetoric within the occupied territories, reinforcing the sectarian divide between Sunnis and Shiites and distracting Palestinians from their real source of military support. In return, Israel allowed the ideological diffusion of Wahhabism in Gaza, calculating that this doctrine would weaken Palestinian nationalism and inter-Muslim solidarity, replacing them with religious divisions and fractured loyalties.
This pact began to decline as Al Jazeera became a major outlet for exposing the brutal reality of the genocide in Gaza. Once Qatar’s media presence in occupied Palestine started to generate more costs than benefits for Israel, the Zionist regime enacted a censorship law banning Al Jazeera and assassinated several of its journalists during the criminal airstrikes on Gaza.
Qatar is also home to the largest U.S. military base in the Middle East—Al Udeid Air Base. This facility not only houses American equipment and troops but also serves as an operational platform for Israeli assets in joint missions against Gaza, Hezbollah, and potentially Iran. The Israeli presence on Qatari soil is an open secret and illustrates just how much Qatar has functioned as a logistical hub for the regional security architecture coordinated by Washington and Tel Aviv.
In June, Iran launched precision strikes against this base during its brief direct war with Israel. The message was unequivocal: by allowing its territory to be used by powers hostile to the Axis of Resistance, Qatar had crossed the limits of neutrality. Doha’s response, however, was to remain in a position of complicit silence, ignoring internal protests and maintaining its alignment with Western allies.
This posture exposes the fundamental paradox of Gulf foreign policy: even with populations broadly sympathetic to the Palestinian cause, the Wahhabi bloc has repeatedly chosen to accommodate Israeli and American projects, as long as doing so ensures dynastic survival and economic stability. This reflects a deeply rooted rationality in the political culture of desert nations—one shaped by centuries of pragmatic adaptation to scarcity and existential threats. In an environment where taking sides can mean ruin, ambiguity becomes a way of life.
However, in the current context of conflict radicalization, this ambiguity is no longer perceived as strategy but as betrayal. By refusing to break with the occupying powers, Qatar risks being dragged into an escalation it helped to ignite. The Israeli bombs falling on Gaza today do so, directly or indirectly, with American logistical support originating from Qatari territory. This undeniable fact—under any serious analysis—undermines Doha’s attempt to present itself as both bridge and wall, as arbiter and accomplice.
The recent Israeli strikes on Doha have made one thing painfully clear: befriending the Zionists is a deadly mistake.
In the geopolitical theater of the Middle East, Qatar has played a profoundly ambiguous role—at times portrayed as a regional mediator, at others as a strategic collaborator with the Washington-Tel Aviv axis. This ambivalence is neither accidental nor merely tactical. It is rooted in the very foundations of Gulf monarchies’ foreign policy, notoriously driven by a commercial mentality that prioritizes stability, survival, and diplomatic gains over any consistent ideological alignment. However, in light of the current stage of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, this self-interested neutrality has increasingly morphed into active complicity with the Zionist occupation regime.
Despite hosting the political leadership of Hamas in Doha, Qatar does not finance its military wing—which, in fact, is supported by Iran. The hospitality extended to the political branch of the Palestinian movement serves, in reality, as a diplomatic tool to increase Qatari influence over the resistance and steer it toward behavior less hostile to Israeli and American interests. This strategy has been employed for years under the pretense of “mediation,” but in practice, it functions as a containment mechanism for the Palestinian national movement.
For years, the Al Jazeera network, controlled by Doha, had authorized access to the Gaza Strip, even under the strict control of Israeli security forces. This privilege was not granted out of goodwill by Tel Aviv but was the result of a strategic arrangement: Al Jazeera promoted anti-Iran rhetoric within the occupied territories, reinforcing the sectarian divide between Sunnis and Shiites and distracting Palestinians from their real source of military support. In return, Israel allowed the ideological diffusion of Wahhabism in Gaza, calculating that this doctrine would weaken Palestinian nationalism and inter-Muslim solidarity, replacing them with religious divisions and fractured loyalties.
This pact began to decline as Al Jazeera became a major outlet for exposing the brutal reality of the genocide in Gaza. Once Qatar’s media presence in occupied Palestine started to generate more costs than benefits for Israel, the Zionist regime enacted a censorship law banning Al Jazeera and assassinated several of its journalists during the criminal airstrikes on Gaza.
Qatar is also home to the largest U.S. military base in the Middle East—Al Udeid Air Base. This facility not only houses American equipment and troops but also serves as an operational platform for Israeli assets in joint missions against Gaza, Hezbollah, and potentially Iran. The Israeli presence on Qatari soil is an open secret and illustrates just how much Qatar has functioned as a logistical hub for the regional security architecture coordinated by Washington and Tel Aviv.
In June, Iran launched precision strikes against this base during its brief direct war with Israel. The message was unequivocal: by allowing its territory to be used by powers hostile to the Axis of Resistance, Qatar had crossed the limits of neutrality. Doha’s response, however, was to remain in a position of complicit silence, ignoring internal protests and maintaining its alignment with Western allies.
This posture exposes the fundamental paradox of Gulf foreign policy: even with populations broadly sympathetic to the Palestinian cause, the Wahhabi bloc has repeatedly chosen to accommodate Israeli and American projects, as long as doing so ensures dynastic survival and economic stability. This reflects a deeply rooted rationality in the political culture of desert nations—one shaped by centuries of pragmatic adaptation to scarcity and existential threats. In an environment where taking sides can mean ruin, ambiguity becomes a way of life.
However, in the current context of conflict radicalization, this ambiguity is no longer perceived as strategy but as betrayal. By refusing to break with the occupying powers, Qatar risks being dragged into an escalation it helped to ignite. The Israeli bombs falling on Gaza today do so, directly or indirectly, with American logistical support originating from Qatari territory. This undeniable fact—under any serious analysis—undermines Doha’s attempt to present itself as both bridge and wall, as arbiter and accomplice.
The recent Israeli strikes on Doha have made one thing painfully clear: befriending the Zionists is a deadly mistake.
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