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The Great Feminization, Measured Seventy-two percent of men under thirty hold a positive view of women; among women under thirty, 50% (a 22-point gap). Among women under twenty-five, the share is 35% (a 37-point gap). Where the manosphere and “toxic masculinity” dominate headlines, the data points elsewhere: young women increasingly sort men into the enemy column. The class divide is sharp. Among working-class young women, 61% view men positively; among professional-class women, 36%—a 25-point gap tied to exposure to universities, HR departments, media organizations, and NGOs. The pattern runs through institutional conditioning. Helen Andrews argued this in 2020: between 2015 and 2020 many Western institutions became majority-female, including the New York Times newsroom (2018), law schools (2016), medical schools and the college-educated workforce (2019). Affirmative-action mandates, discrimination settlements, and diversity requirements helped drive the shift. As institutions changed, so did missions: justice increasingly focused on protecting “oppressed” minorities; newsrooms shifted from reporting toward narrative enforcement; universities moved from arguing to “safe spaces.” The result is a “daycare governance model”: infants to be protected (the oppressed), caregivers to provide protection (the allies), and predators to be removed (the dissenters). Research shows the same frame in speech: FIRE’s 2026 college speech rankings found women less tolerant than men across ideologies, including less tolerance for their allies. A woman entering kindergarten in 2005 has spent twenty years inside this system—she didn’t invent it, she inherited it. The 35% figure suggests sorting into victim, ally, and predator, with no grey zones. Working-class women, less conditioned by these pipelines, still view men positively (61–36). None of this is entirely new; Gustave Le Bon described the mechanism in 1895.

Multiculturalism or Liberalism… You Can’t Have Both Canada’s Combating Hate Act received royal assent on June 18 and became law in July, defining hatred as an intense and extreme emotion and extending emotion’s reach into government and criminal law. Supporters cite a 169% rise in reported hate crimes from 2018 to 2024, but the increase reflects predictable outcomes when groups with deep historical, cultural, and religious conflicts are placed together in large numbers while assuming differences will fade. “Diversity is our strength” can’t replace shared culture: cooperation at scale requires shared values and norms. Import enough difference quickly while demanding universal tolerance, and social order begins to fracture, leaving strangers who share a passport but little else—so the state steps in to do what culture once did. Multiculturalism can drift toward authoritarianism: the state expands to manage conflicts, neutrality becomes impossible without common standards, and unequal treatment follows. Britain illustrates the danger, with thousands of arrests in 2023 under communications laws for alleged offensive messages and long sentences for single posts. Meanwhile, authorities have shown hesitation toward major crimes involving protected communities, often citing fears of racism and community harm—creating a double standard. Canada also has examples, such as the Gladue principles, which require sentencing judges to consider the circumstances of Indigenous offenders, letting group identity influence state treatment. The multicultural liberal state was sold as open, tolerant, and equal—but if groups won’t “melt,” or fundamentally oppose one another, the result is increasingly unequal laws, more surveillance, and less liberty. Multiculturalism and liberalism are incompatible: without shared cultural standards, a society will be governed from above through laws, courts, and coercion.

When Culture Collapses, the State Takes Over On June 18, the Combatting Hate Act received royal assent in Ottawa; in July it becomes law. Among its provisions, Canada’s Criminal Code will define hatred as an intense and extreme emotion tied to vilification and detestation. Feeling is moving into criminal law. The state has taken on the job of policing it. Supporters cite a reported 169% rise in hate crimes from 2018 to 2024. But such spikes are not random: they follow predictable outcomes of placing groups with long histories of cultural and political conflict together in large numbers while assuming grievances will vanish. “Diversity is our strength” can’t replace shared culture. Shared culture enables voluntary social interaction; without it, cohesion is not automatic—it must be built, and conflict is often the norm. When rapid, large-scale difference is combined with demands for perpetual tolerance, social order weakens. The law then steps in to do what culture once did. This is how multiculturalism can drift toward authoritarianism: institutions empowered to manage social conflict gain authority by promising to solve problems their policies help create. Enforcement is rarely neutral. The same legal mechanisms that target “offensive” speech can also punish individuals harshly, while authorities can remain slow to confront serious harms—raising the question: who decides whose equality matters?

Why Leftist Activists and Revolutionaries Can Never Declare Victory Leftist movements face a paradox: they use oppression narratives to gain institutional power, then keep claiming victimhood as that power grows. Instead of disappearing, activism “shapeshifts” inside bureaucracy, media, academia, corporations, and the arts. Even when DEI is challenged, its structures often remain under new names—diversity becomes “belonging” or “inclusive culture.” The logic is permanent revolution: influence depends on the struggle never ending. Goals shift, new categories of oppression are defined, and intersectionality divides people into ever finer oppressor/oppressed groups, creating an endless hierarchy of grievances. If activists declared victory, the justification for ongoing mobilization would collapse. The risk is social atomization: identities replace shared citizenship, and the state shifts from neutral protector to an instrument for redistributing power between designated victims and oppressors. Bureaucracy and propaganda can replace community and argument. History shows recurring purges—once the revolution’s machinery turns inward, yesterday’s enforcers become today’s targets. The result is also a ressentiment psychology: identity forms around an “enemy,” not one’s own strength. This dynamic helps sustain the consultancy model—identify the guilty, define the aggrieved, and perpetuate conflict. Equality with a finish line is manageable; equality of outcomes is not, so there is always another disparity, injustice, or enemy. The movement fears completion less than failure, because ending would make its power machinery unnecessary.

The Never-Ending Movement One of the deepest paradoxes of the social justice movement is that it uses narratives of oppression to gain institutional power, then claims victimhood as that power grows. It is no longer at the gates. It is inside the bureaucracy, media, academia, arts, and corporations it once opposed. Many think “woke” has run out of steam. I think it has solidified. DEI has not disappeared; it has often been renamed. “Diversity and inclusion” becomes “belonging,” while the offices, staff, and mandates remain. The letterhead changes; the apparatus survives. The movement cannot declare victory because victory would mean surrendering its institutional power. A political party wants to govern; a movement must keep moving. Once it stops, it loses its purpose. Intersectionality makes perpetual subdivision possible. People are classified into ever-smaller groups of oppressors and oppressed. Equality before the law has a measurable endpoint. Equality of outcome does not. Every remaining disparity can therefore become evidence that more intervention is needed. Revolutions also tend to consume their own. The Jacobins eventually turned on their fellow revolutionaries. The Bolsheviks purged their own. Mao mobilized the Red Guards before suppressing them. The pattern is simple: stop, and you are a traitor; continue, and eventually you become the target. Nietzsche identified a psychological engine beneath this dynamic: ressentiment. Goodness is defined through opposition to an alleged oppressor, making the enemy a source of moral identity. Remove the enemy and the movement loses its purpose. That is why new grievances and villains must continually be produced. A conventional reform program can declare victory and disappear. Ressentiment cannot, because victory removes the enemy that gives it meaning. The movement therefore may fear completion more than failure. They do not fear that they will fail. They fear that they might finish.

It's time that the AI industry compiles the 100 most influential people in News Media list, starting with Joe Rogan, Mr Beast, Scott Alexander, Sabine Hossenfelder and Linda Yaccarino, Aella, Christopher Poole but also inclusive of diverse voices like Clavicular and Pmarca #AI #MediaInfluencers #DiversityInMedia #Therearenospecificcountriesmentionedinthetweet.

Andrew Garfield wyznał, że naciskał na to, aby Peter Parker mógł odkrywać swoją seksualność i chciał, żeby Michael B. Jordan zagrał męską wersję MJ. "A co, gdyby MJ był facetem?… Dlaczego nie mógłby być gejem? Dlaczego nie mogliby podobać mu się chłopcy?" https://t.co/bRY4EusAAm #SpiderMan #LGBTQ #Diversity

Viviamo in un mondo distopico Petra De Sutter, rettore dell’Università di Gand, primo ministro trans nominato in Europa, esponente dei Verdi e medico ginecologo, ha deciso di sospendere il professor Nathan Cofnas, colui che aveva denunciato per plagio Jason Arday, il più giovane professore nero di Cambridge. #Diversity #Equality #Academia

Elles le considéraient comme leur frère, elles ont été les seules à faire une propagande pour lui dehors, elles l'ont toujours défendues. Elles sont juste blessées mais vous n'arrivez pas à accepter que des femmes noires aient des émotions. #secretstory #WomenEmpowerment #EmotionsMatter #Diversity

The article by Anna-Lena Scholz highlights the case of the late Cambridge professor Jason Arday, who went from a celebrated symbol of diversity to a controversial figure, as he reveals the structural failure of the elite university Cambridge, which, despite its progressiveness, often suffers from deeply rooted exclusion in reality. (translated)

Der Verein „EOTO“, der das Schwimmen nur für Schwarze im Berliner Volksbad anbieten wollte, hat noch viel mehr staatlich finanzierte Projekte zu bieten: unter anderem „Afro-Tennis“ und ein Sommerferienprogramm nur für „Black Kids“. https://t.co/flwMok6C0E #Diversity #Inclusion #Community

Jason Arday ist tot. Und bevor überhaupt abschließend geklärt wurde, woran dieser Mann gestorben ist, bevor eine offizielle Todesursache feststeht, beginnt bereits die nächste Geschichte. Die Schuldigen sind vielerorts schon gefunden: die Journalisten. Die Kritiker. Diejenigen, die nachgefragt und die Wahrheit aufgedeckt haben. Und natürlich, wie könnte es anders sein: der Rassismus. Ich selbst habe erst vor wenigen Tagen bei @TichysEinblick kritisch über Arday geschrieben. Und ich kann nicht behaupten, die Nachricht habe mich kaltgelassen. Für einen Moment war da ein Gefühl der Beklemmung. Nicht Schuld, nicht Mitverantwortung, eher das jähe Bewusstsein, dass hinter der grotesken Geschichte, die ich fünf Tage zuvor öffentlich auseinandergenommen hatte, immer noch ein Mensch stand. Und dieser Mensch ist nun tot. Die Geschichte hat mit einem Schlag jede Komik verloren, eine Frau ihren Mann, zwei kleine Kinder ihren Vater. Was immer geschehen ist: Es ist eine Tragödie. Selbstverständlich kann Kritik entgleisen. Menschen können hämisch, grausam und niederträchtig werden. Aus Recherche kann eine persönliche Kampagne werden und in Spott und Häme umschlagen. Auch das ist hier teilweise geschehen und es sind durchaus entmenschlichende Worte gefallen und das sollte man auch benennen. Aber wenn wir schon unbedingt darüber reden wollen, wer diesen Mann in eine Lage gebracht haben könnte, aus der er am Ende keinen Ausweg mehr sah (falls sich überhaupt herausstellen sollte, dass er selbst seinem Leben ein Ende gesetzt hat), dann möchte ich vorher über ganz andere Menschen reden. Über diejenigen, die ihn auf dieses Podest gestellt haben. Je länger ich über Jason Arday nachdenke, desto weniger sehe ich den abgefeimten Hochstapler vom Schlage eines Gerd Postel, sondern desto mehr erinnert mich die Geschichte an die tragischen Biografien mancher Kinderstars. Ein Kind besitzt etwas, das Erwachsene verwerten können. Talent, Niedlichkeit, eine außergewöhnliche Geschichte. Also wird es aufgebaut, man sagt ihm, wie besonders es sei. Es bekommt Aufmerksamkeit, Applaus und Anerkennung. Wird vielleicht zu immer neuen Absurditäten ermutigt. Irgendwann hängt seine gesamte Existenz an einer öffentlichen Figur, die andere gemeinsam mit ihm geschaffen haben. Natürlich war Jason Arday kein Kind. Und ich weiß nicht, wie reflektiert oder berechnend er seine eigene Legende geschaffen hat, ob er Urheber oder zuletzt ihr Gefangener war. Ich kenne diesen Mann nicht und werde ihm nach seinem Tod auch keine Diagnose verpassen. Aber ich sehe einen Menschen, dessen Biografie geradezu maßgeschneidert erschien für eine Universität, die DIE bis zum gehtnichtmehr demonstrieren wollte. Und was macht so etwas wohl mit einem (womöglich labilen, beeinflussbaren) Menschen? Was passiert, wenn man irgendwann nicht mehr einfach Jason Arday sein darf, sondern Jason Arday™ sein muss. Symbol des Bildungsaufstiegs, des überwundenen Autismus, des Kampfes gegen strukturellen Rassismus, lebender Beweis für die eigene Diversity-Erzählung einer Institution? Die Fläche, auf die immer mehr Menschen ihre Erwartungen, ihre politischen Überzeugungen und vielleicht auch ihre eigenen moralischen Bedürfnisse projizieren und dann wie die Monstranz ihrer eigenen moralischen Überlegenheit vor sich hertragen? Und was passiert wohl, wenn dieser Mensch irgendwann selbst nicht mehr aus dieser Rolle herausfindet und dann auch noch das ganze Lügengebäude zusammenkracht? Oh Mann, was für ein beschissenes Märchen. R.I.P, Jason Arday 🕯 #Trauer #Rassismus #Medienkritik

Eigentlich sollte am temporär eingerichteten „Volksbad“ an der Volksbühne in Berlin exklusiver Badespaß nur für schwarze Menschen geboten werden. Doch die Veranstaltung, bei der Weiße ausgeschlossen werden sollten, wurde kurzfristig abgesagt. Zu Recht? NIUS hat Berliner in der Nähe des Schwimmbeckens gefragt, ob das Badeangebot ausschließlich für die schwarze Community wirklich nötig gewesen wäre. #Berlin #Diversity #Community

The article tells the dramatic turn in the biography of Jason Arday, who was celebrated as the youngest black professor at Cambridge but had to resign due to allegations of plagiarism and questionable claims on his resume, which led to a cultural discourse about wokeness and the challenges of meritocracy at universities. (translated)

Ein 14-jähriger Schüler soll an einem verpflichtenden Queer-Workshop von „diversity München“ teilnehmen. Seine Eltern widersprechen, der Junge bleibt zu Hause und bekommt anschließend einen Bußgeldbescheid über 78,50 Euro vom Landratsamt. Der Verstoß? Die Verletzung der Schulanwesenheitspflicht. Immer öfter werden unsere Schulen für ideologische und woke Projekte missbraucht und unsere Kinder über die Schulpflicht an Sie gebunden. Für mich ist der Schüler ein Held und er soll standhaft bleiben. Melde dich bei mir und ich übernehme gern dein Bußgeld. #Schulpflicht #Elternrechte #QueerEducation

A Crown Instead of the Barracks: An Idea From Outside the Box Could Egypt’s exiled opposition use constitutional monarchy to dismantle the legitimacy of the 1952 coup? By Adham Hasanin Egyptian journalist and political writer, based in the Netherlands To understand what follows, a reader unfamiliar with Egypt needs one basic fact: since 1952, Egypt has never been governed by anyone who did not first wear a military uniform. Gamal Abdel Nasser, Anwar Sadat, Hosni Mubarak, and today Abdel Fattah el-Sisi four men, four eras, one common origin. All rose through the armed forces. All inherited a state built by a coup that year, when a group of officers calling themselves the "Free Officers" overthrew King Farouk I and, within a year, abolished the monarchy altogether and declared a republic. For seventy-three years, the underlying equation has not changed: the army rules, power passes from one officer to the next, and legitimacy is drawn from the barrel of a gun rather than the ballot box. Every conceivable form of opposition has been tried legal parties and banned ones, Islamist movements, liberal and leftist coalitions, the 2011 popular uprising, and the 2013 elections whose result was overturned by force within a year. All of them hit the same wall: a military institution that reproduces itself under different names, while the core of the system remains untouched. So what if the problem, all along, has not simply been who rules, but the constitutional framework that makes military rule possible in the first place? And what if the answer lies not in swapping one president for another, but in dismantling the underlying equation itself, through a framework Egyptian opposition movements have never seriously tried: a purely ceremonial constitutional monarchy, on the model of Belgium, the Netherlands, or Spain where the head of state becomes a symbol above the political fray, while the army is permanently expelled from politics and returned to its barracks. This is not a call to revive a particular family, nor nostalgia for a golden age that never quite existed. It is a proposal for a political and strategic tool that has not yet been used in the intellectual arsenal of Egypt’s opposition in exile a tool that deserves serious discussion, regardless of whether it is ever literally realised or simply serves to expand the boundaries of what is politically thinkable. I. Why 1952, Not 2013 or 2011, Is the Root The strategic error made by most Egyptian opposition movements from the Muslim Brotherhood to the April 6 Youth Movement to the various civil opposition parties has been treating each political crisis as an isolated case: Mubarak was corrupt and had to be toppled; Sisi staged a coup that must be condemned; the interim military council was a transitional phase to be endured. This piecemeal approach treats the symptoms while leaving the original illness untouched. That original illness is the very structure of legitimacy established by the coup of 23 July 1952. The Egyptian republican system, from Nasser to today, has never built its legitimacy on a genuine democratic social contract. Instead, it has rested on a fixed trinity: the rhetoric of "revolution against feudalism and colonialism," charismatic individual leadership, and military protection of the regime framed as the guarantor of stability. This trinity has repeated itself from Nasser to Sadat to Mubarak to Sisi, with only cosmetic variations. Each new president was never a break from the system he was its continuation. When the opposition says "let us return to the constitutional framework that preceded the coup," it is not criticising a particular policy. It is declaring that the legal foundation of everything that came after 1952 was illegitimate from the start. Here lies the rhetorical power of "returning to the pre-1952 order": it does not merely demand swapping one ruler for another. It withdraws historical legitimacy from the entire republican military system including today’s regime, which draws its own declared legitimacy from that same "1952 legacy." II. Why a "Ceremonial Crown," Not "the Return of a Ruling Family" Here is the most important distinction anyone advocating this idea seriously must grasp: the project does not rest on restoring any particular individual from the Muhammad Ali dynasty, nor on nostalgia for King Farouk or his ancestors. The real power of the idea lies in the constitutional form, not in the person who happens to sit on the throne. Three successful European democracies illustrate the model clearly. Belgium, where King Philippe is a purely constitutional symbol with no real executive power, while the state is run through an elected parliament and a complex coalition government reflecting the country’s linguistic and political diversity. The Netherlands, where King Willem-Alexander formally opens the parliamentary year and signs laws, but where actual decision-making rests with the prime minister and the elected parliament. And Spain, where the king represents symbolic continuity of the state above party politics, while the military and security services answer entirely to civilian authority a transition achieved after the death of the dictator Francisco Franco in 1975, when King Juan Carlos I voluntarily relinquished the extensive executive powers he had inherited and backed free elections, most dramatically in February 1981, when he personally ordered the armed forces to remain loyal to the constitution during an attempted military coup, causing it to collapse within hours. The common thread across these three models is not "the presence of an ancient royal family." It is the principle of separating symbol from power. The monarch in these countries does not rule; he represents. He issues no political decisions; he provides the continuity and symbolic stability that allows party political competition to revolve beneath him, without every transfer of power becoming an existential crisis of legitimacy. This is precisely what Egypt’s military republican system lacks: a neutral mechanism for guaranteeing state continuity that does not depend on the person of the ruler or his security apparatus. When Egypt’s military-republican president is absent, it is always the army that fills the vacuum, because it is the only institution built to be the "guarantor of stability." Under a ceremonial monarchical model, by contrast, it is the king not the army who represents that symbolic guarantee, genuinely opening the door to removing the military institution from the political equation altogether. III. Egypt’s Standing Under the Monarchy: An Honest Reckoning, Not Blind Nostalgia For a Western reader with little prior knowledge of Egypt’s monarchical period (1922–1952), it helps to know this: Egypt was nominally independent under its own king from 1922, but Britain retained enormous informal control over the country’s foreign policy, military bases, and the Suez Canal throughout the period a reality that shaped everything that follows. Any honest invocation of "Egypt’s standing under the monarchy" must avoid the trap of mythologised nostalgia that many advocates of this idea fall into. Egypt in that era was no lost paradise, and any honest article must say so plainly. The Egyptian pound, for instance, often invoked as a symbol of "national currency strength" in that period, was not strong because of independent Egyptian monetary policy. It was pegged to the British pound sterling as part of Egypt’s complete colonial financial dependency until 1947, with Egypt exercising no independent oversight of its own currency whatsoever. The pound’s strength, in other words, was not a sovereign Egyptian achievement it was a reflection of British imperial power ruling Egypt from behind the throne. But this does not mean Egypt lacked a genuine regional standing worth studying. Cairo, in the 1930s and 1940s, was the undisputed cultural capital of the entire Arab world: the Egyptian film industry produced more than half of all Arabic-language cinema; its theatre scene, led by figures like Youssef Wahbi and Naguib al-Rihani, and its music, with Umm Kulthum and Mohammed Abdel Wahab, set the standard across the region; Cairo University was the first modern university in the Arab world; and the Egyptian press was the reference point for Arab public opinion from the Atlantic to the Gulf. Cairo was, quite simply, to the Arab world what Paris was to Francophone Europe: an unrivalled centre of cultural and intellectual gravity. This standing was not necessarily a product of monarchy itself, so much as a product of a relative space of political and press pluralism that allowed Egyptian civil society to flourish, despite all the flaws of the political system and the interference of both palace and occupier. The lesson here is not "bring back the king and the standing will return." It is: when even a limited margin of civic freedom exists, Egypt flourishes culturally and intellectually almost by its own nature. And that margin is precisely what has been entirely absent across the past seven decades of unchallenged military rule. IV. What Reform Would Actually Require Not Repeating the Old Mistakes Any serious advocacy of this model must include, even briefly, a clear vision for avoiding the flaws of the old monarchical system itself otherwise the proposal collapses into simply replacing one form of authoritarianism with another wearing a different crown. First, the armed forces would need to be placed fully under a civilian ministry of defence, with its budget subject to transparent parliamentary oversight the exact opposite of its current status as a state-within-a-state, and equally opposed to its role under the monarchy, when it often served as an instrument of British influence. Second, a judiciary fully independent of both palace and government alike, unlike the old model, which saw direct royal interference in political life as when King Fuad I dismissed the elected government of Prime Minister Saad Zaghloul’s successor, Mustafa al-Nahhas, in 1928, in one of the clearest "constitutional coups" in modern Egyptian history. Third, a parliament that genuinely represents the people rather than landowners and the aristocracy, as was the case before 1952, when membership in the Senate was effectively conditional on the ability to pay land taxes meaning political representation was, by law, restricted to the wealthy. Fourth, genuine economic sovereignty, with a truly independent national currency rather than one pegged to a foreign power’s currency, unlike the historical dependency of the Egyptian pound on sterling. These four principles are enough to clarify that the project on offer is not a literal "return to the past," but a borrowing of the constitutional form (symbolic monarchy) combined with an explicit rejection of its old substance (colonial dependency, palace interference, parliamentary feudalism). V. The Role of Egyptian Movements in Exile: Between Goal and Instrument This raises the most practical question of all: how might Egypt’s opposition abroad actually adopt this idea, and in what capacity? The honest answer is that the power of this proposal does not necessarily lie in its literal fulfilment, but in its dual strategic function. On one hand, it can be advanced as a genuine political goal adopted by broad coalitions of Egyptian movements coalitions that might include Islamists, liberals, leftists, and traditional monarchists, united around a single shared premise: rejecting the legitimacy of the 1952 order and everything that followed from it, even if they later disagree over the precise final shape of the state. On the other hand and this matters more in practice the idea can be deployed as a rhetorical instrument of pressure to widen a Egyptian political debate currently trapped between two false choices: "continued military rule" or "no alternative, chaos awaits." When the opposition puts forward a clearly defined third model a European-style constitutional monarchy it breaks this false binary and opens new intellectual space in Egyptian public discourse, even if the project is never realised in its literal form. This kind of "leverage idea" is common in the history of political movements worldwide: it is not necessarily proposed to be fulfilled immediately in full, but to redraw the boundaries of the politically possible, and to force the existing regime to defend its legitimacy rather than simply assume it. Conclusion: An Invitation to Debate, Not a Ready-Made Prescription This article does not claim that restoring a monarchical form would magically resolve Egypt’s chronic crisis of legitimacy, nor does it ignore the immense difficulties facing any transformative project under a military institution as economically and securitywise entrenched as Egypt’s is today. But it raises a question that deserves serious debate among Egypt’s opposition in exile, rather than automatic dismissal simply for being unfamiliar: Has the Egyptian opposition exhausted every available tool for dismantling the legitimacy of 1952, or has it remained trapped in the same old binary swapping one ruler for another while the framework that makes military rule possible remains untouched? The idea is on the table now, not as a finished solution, but as an overdue invitation to think outside the box.