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Glenn Beck 'Roughs It' at Boy Scout Camporee 2016: Potstickers, CNN & Buc-ee’s

November 14, 2016
Lori Hanes

Writer

It ain't what it used to be, that's for sure. Abandoned in the wilderness that is Texas Motor Speedway, Glenn pitched a tent with his son this weekend at the Boy Scout Camporee, a huge scouting event in North Texas that draws nearly 6,000 scouts.

"So we go and we pack all of our gear, and we pull up to the NASCAR Speedway, and we're in the parking lot outside of the speedway, in between the speedway and the interstate," Glenn said Monday on his radio program.

RELATED: Time to Pass the Baton to the Next Hero Generation: The Millennials

Thinking he'd be roughing it for the weekend, Glenn was surprised to find access to Port-A-Potty row, the giant convenience store that is Buc-ee's and Asian cuisine.

"We're making dinner, and the boys have to come up with what to have for dinner. What kind of Boy Scout troop has potstickers on a campout?" Glenn laughed. "Potstickers. We're having Asian cuisine?"

So much for the skillet cornbread and campfire stew.

Read below or listen to the full segment for answers to these questions:

• Was shuttle service available from Texas Motor Speedway to Buc-ee's?

• Did Jeffy attend the Camporee with his son?

• Did Glenn schedule a CNN interview at the Camporee?

• What time did Glenn leave the campsite?

• Will Glenn ever camp again?

Listen to this segment, beginning at mark 2:40, from The Glenn Beck Program:

Below is a rush transcript of this segment, it might contain errors:

GLENN: It is -- I went out camping with my son on Friday.

JEFFY: Did you?

GLENN: Yeah. And shockingly, your son as well. But you weren't there, for some reason.

JEFFY: No. I don't -- I couldn't make it. I have work here at the network.

GLENN: No. I'm your boss. No, you didn't have work on Friday night.

JEFFY: I do.

GLENN: You didn't have to -- so I went. It was the longest night of my life, I contend. I went, got there about 5:30 with my son.

PAT: It was at the Texas Speedway.

JEFFY: It's a camporee.

PAT: I mean, come on. That's not roughing it.

GLENN: No. No. Really?

PAT: Really.

GLENN: So we're in Texas, the largest state next to Alaska --

PAT: Right. Largest in the 48 contiguous.

GLENN: I mean, it is -- right? We're ten times the size of most countries.

PAT: We've got wilderness.

GLENN: We have it here. We're outdoorsmen. Right?

PAT: Yes.

GLENN: We're tough. I'm not. But that's the -- that's the MO on Texas.

So here's where we end up. So we go and we pack all of our gear, and we pull up to the -- the -- the Speedway.

(laughter)

GLENN: The NASCAR Speedway. And we're in the parking lot outside of the Speedway, in between the Speedway and the interstate.

PAT: In between -- so you're between the Speedway and I-35?

GLENN: And I-35.

PAT: Wow, that's bizarre.

GLENN: And I said to my son, I said, "You know what, let's go see if we can find any animals."

"Oh, there's a beaver across the street. It's Buc-ee's. Let's go."

STU: The convenience store.

GLENN: The convenience store, which is not a convenience store. It is a city.

STU: Yes, it's awesome.

GLENN: If you don't have a Buc-ee's around you -- people wouldn't know what to do -- if you're from New York and you go to a Buc-ee's, they wouldn't know what to think.

STU: It's like a Walmart-sized convenience store. It's unbelievable.

STU: It's unbelievable.

PAT: And another thing, the Texas Motor Speedway is in the metroplex.

GLENN: Yes.

STU: Still in part of this massive city.

GLENN: No. On the other side of the Buc-ee's is the airport.

PAT: Yeah.

GLENN: So you're having (sound effect). All right? So it's that outdoorsy. It's that outdoorsy.

PAT: Wow. Why did they pick that? Do you have any --

JEFFY: Because there's space.

GLENN: I would imagine because -- yeah, it's 6,000 Boy Scouts.

JEFFY: It's a camporee.

PAT: 6,000.

JEFFY: Yeah.

GLENN: 6,000 Boy Scouts. 6,000.

PAT: Again, I will say it again, we have wilderness.

GLENN: I know. I guarantee you --

JEFFY: We don't have enough for areas for that many --

PAT: Yes, we do.

JEFFY: We do not.

GLENN: No, no, no. I guarantee you, you cannot have 6,000 -- Pat. Pat.

PAT: We've had jamborees in Montana. Are you telling me Montana has better facilities than Texas --

JEFFY: This is a camporee.

PAT: Well, we've had that.

JEFFY: Not a jamboree.

PAT: A jamboree and a camporee are essentially the --

GLENN: I can guarantee you -- this is because of the laws, having to make sure that you have access to everything.

PAT: Oh, I bet.

GLENN: That you have the right number of Port-A-Potties. And it's just too expensive to go out and really do it.

PAT: So you had bathrooms what, at the Motor Speedway?

GLENN: Yeah, and also Port-A-Potties everywhere. But we also had real --

PAT: Wow.

GLENN: Yeah, okay. So it was at the Motor Speedway. So we're -- I'm pitching a tent on gravel.

JEFFY: Right.

PAT: Come on.

GLENN: And to make it worse, I had scheduled --

PAT: Not even on grass. At least they could have put you on the infield.

GLENN: So I scheduled an interview. I had an interview scheduled for CNN. So I have to do this interview. So they bring this satellite truck. CNN sends this satellite truck. And so it pulls up next to the tents. And it's got all the -- it's like a city now. And the cameras are there. And everything else. This gigantic satellite on this gigantic semi. And all the Boy Scouts are coming --

JEFFY: Nobody knew you were there.

GLENN: Nobody knew I was there. So all the Boy Scouts were coming around because it was there for four hours.

PAT: Oh, my gosh.

GLENN: And they said, "What's with the -- and I said, "We have HBO. We have Showtime. We're not roughing it here. What do you guys have? Because we have every channel known to man at our campsite."

(laughter)

It was nuts.

PAT: I bet they were mad.

GLENN: Then we're making dinner. And the boys have to come up with what to have for dinner.

PAT: Uh-huh.

GLENN: What kind of Boy Scout troop has potstickers on a campout? I said, "What are you guys making?"

STU: Like dumplings?

GLENN: Yeah, potstickers.

STU: Right.

GLENN: "Potstickers." I said, "We're having Asian cuisine?"

(chuckling)

GLENN: "How do you make those over a campfire?"

JEFFY: You wrap them in foil, right?

GLENN: Yeah. We didn't actually have a campfire -- you can't have a campfire at the Speedway. So you just bring the kitchen appliances. Oh, my gosh, it was like come on.

STU: Wait. So they had an oven or a microwave?

JEFFY: They have a grill.

GLENN: They made them in -- on a stove.

JEFFY: On the gas grills. The Coleman gas --

GLENN: Yeah. The Coleman gas grills.

So it was camping like no other. I got up -- I finally got up at 4 o'clock in the morning because I couldn't -- I just couldn't take it anymore. And I got up at 4 o'clock in the morning. And I just -- I rolled up my sleeping bag. And then I went -- no, I'm not even rolling it up. I'm just leaving. My son can pack it. So I left. I left --

JEFFY: So is your tent still in the middle of the --

GLENN: No, he did it.

PAT: I love that. That is quintessential Glenn Beck. Quintessential Glenn Beck.

(laughter)

GLENN: My son gets up, and he calls me. And he's like, "You just left the tent?"

PAT: That's the greatest.

GLENN: And I said, "Damn right. You're a Boy Scout. Roll that baby up and make sure you don't lose any of the pieces. I'll see you at home later."

(laughter)

PAT: So you didn't even wake Raphe up to say you were leaving?

GLENN: No.

PAT: You just left?

GLENN: No, he was -- no. Here -- I get here. This really hacked me off.

I get there. And one of the dads drops his son off and says, "I'm just dropping him off."

You're, what?

"I'm just dropping him off."

You're not staying?

"At the Motor Speedway?"

I'm like -- well, no. I didn't know I had that option.

Then -- then as I'm --

PAT: Your wife didn't let you have that option.

GLENN: I know. Then as they're pitching -- as they're pitching their tents and I'm pitching mine, one of the camp -- the counselors comes over and says, "So Raphe -- all the boys are going to be sleeping over there in their tents, and then you just stay in yours, and everybody can just stay in their -- you know, the men will stay in their tents."

PAT: And wasn't the point for the fathers to be with the sons, right?

GLENN: Right. So I stood around all night.

PAT: If you're not with the son, then why be there?

GLENN: Why be there?

PAT: I'm with you on that. I'm with you.

GLENN: Right. Right. So I didn't -- I got up. He wasn't even in my tent. He was in with the other boys in their tent.

PAT: Definitely with you.

GLENN: I'm like, "Oh, man." I said to him, "We're never camping again. Never. At least at a motor speedway."

STU: Interesting. That's also what civilization said about 1900.

GLENN: Right.

STU: We're never camping again.

GLENN: I mean, when you're camping and you're going to the Buc-ee's, that's not camping.

JEFFY: Well, you made the choice to go to Buc-ee's. You can make the choice not to.

GLENN: We could have hiked across the street. I could have put my big hiking boots and gone across the street to the Buc-ee's. That's not camping.

The worst experience next to this one -- the worst experience of my life was my brother convinced me to go hiking. And hike up Mount Baker. Okay? Now, this is a mountain up in northwest Washington. So he says, "Let's hike up Mount Baker. I know this great place that we could camp."

So we hike all day. I mean, we started 6 o'clock in the morning. By the time we make it to camp, it's maybe 9:30 or 10:00 because it's summertime. And it's taken us all day to get there. And it's pitch dark when we get there. And we're pitching the tent in the dark.

STU: What year is this? This is like --

GLENN: I'm 17 years old.

STU: Okay.

GLENN: So we pitch the tent.

The next morning, I'm awakened by the gentle sound of an RV.

(chuckling)

GLENN: And I open up the tent and there is a freaking parking lot. And I look at my brother, and I said, "We hiked all day yesterday so we could get away -- and we're at a parking lot?" He's like, "I knew you wouldn't go any place without a bathroom. So we're just hiking up here. I couldn't imagine you being quiet without an indoor bathroom. This is the only place."

JEFFY: Even then.

GLENN: Even then.

JEFFY: So I want to -- you're upset that you weren't roughing it enough?

GLENN: No.

JEFFY: As --

PAT: You're upset that you didn't drive to the campsite.

JEFFY: You're so upset that you were going camping with your son, that you had a TV live shot scheduled.

GLENN: If you're going to be miserable, at least be out in the middle of nowhere.

PAT: Uh-huh.

GLENN: Why be miserable, literally ten minutes from my house. All I could think of was, I could get in my house -- I could be sitting in my couch in total comfort within eight minutes.

JEFFY: Yeah, that's why I don't camp.

STU: If you -- this exact monologue occurs if the opposite happens, which if you're in the middle of nowhere, you complain about not being close enough to anything.

JEFFY: Yeah.

STU: Why can't we just go right next door --

PAT: There's no question about that.

STU: -- like the Texas Motor Speedway, across the street from Buc-ee's.

PAT: The issue is camping. Stop it. Let's stop camping. There's no reason for it. We have homes now. Camping was important when we didn't have homes.

(chuckling)

GLENN: Can you imagine --

PAT: Now we have nice places to rest.

GLENN: Imagine -- imagine somebody 100 years ago saying, "Man, some day, people are going to live like this for fun." And everybody would be like, "Crapping in the woods? Being cold, sleeping with a rock print in your face the next morning? I don't think so." No, they'll do it for fun, I'm telling you. No.

PAT: Yeah.

(chuckling)

GLENN: I mean, they didn't know that we were also going to have potstickers.

(chuckling)

GLENN: That may have been the thing that threw it over the edge.

Featured Image: (Photo by George Frey/Getty Images)

The melting pot fails when we stop agreeing to melt

Spencer Platt / Staff | Getty Images

Texas now hosts Quran-first academies, Sharia-compliant housing schemes, and rapidly multiplying mosques — all part of a movement building a self-contained society apart from the country around it.

It is time to talk honestly about what is happening inside America’s rapidly growing Muslim communities. In city after city, large pockets of newcomers are choosing to build insulated enclaves rather than enter the broader American culture.

That trend is accelerating, and the longer we ignore it, the harder it becomes to address.

As Texas goes, so goes America. And as America goes, so goes the free world.

America has always welcomed people of every faith and people from every corner of the world, but the deal has never changed: You come here and you join the American family. You are free to honor your traditions, keep your faith, but you must embrace the Constitution as the supreme law of the land. You melt into the shared culture that allows all of us to live side by side.

Across the country, this bargain is being rejected by Islamist communities that insist on building a parallel society with its own rules, its own boundaries, and its own vision for how life should be lived.

Texas illustrates the trend. The state now has roughly 330 mosques. At least 48 of them were built in just the last 24 months. The Dallas-Fort Worth metroplex alone has around 200 Islamic centers. Houston has another hundred or so. Many of these communities have no interest in blending into American life.

This is not the same as past waves of immigration. Irish, Italian, Korean, Mexican, and every other group arrived with pride in their heritage. Still, they also raised American flags and wanted their children to be part of the country’s future. They became doctors, small-business owners, teachers, and soldiers. They wanted to be Americans.

What we are watching now is not the melting pot. It is isolation by design.

Parallel societies do not end well

More than 300 fundamentalist Islamic schools now operate full-time across the country. Many use Quran-first curricula that require students to spend hours memorizing religious texts before they ever reach math or science. In Dallas, Brighter Horizons Academy enrolls more than 1,700 students and draws federal support while operating on a social model that keeps children culturally isolated.

Then there is the Epic City project in Collin and Hunt counties — 402 acres originally designated only for Muslim buyers, with Sharia-compliant financing and a mega-mosque at the center. After public outcry and state investigations, the developers renamed it “The Meadows,” but a new sign does not erase the original intent. It is not a neighborhood. It is a parallel society.

Americans should not hesitate to say that parallel societies are dangerous. Europe tried this experiment, and the results could not be clearer. In Germany, France, and the United Kingdom, entire neighborhoods now operate under their own cultural rules, some openly hostile to Western norms. When citizens speak up, they are branded bigots for asserting a basic right: the ability to live safely in their own communities.

A crisis of confidence

While this separation widens, another crisis is unfolding at home. A recent Gallup survey shows that about 40% of American women ages 18 to 39 would leave the country permanently if given the chance. Nearly half of a rising generation — daughters, sisters, soon-to-be mothers — no longer believe this nation is worth building a future in.

And who shapes the worldview of young boys? Their mothers. If a mother no longer believes America is home, why would her child grow up ready to defend it?

As Texas goes, so goes America. And as America goes, so goes the free world. If we lose confidence in our own national identity at the same time that we allow separatist enclaves to spread unchecked, the outcome is predictable. Europe is already showing us what comes next: cultural fracture, political radicalization, and the slow death of national unity.

Brandon Bell / Staff | Getty Images

Stand up and tell the truth

America welcomes Muslims. America defends their right to worship freely. A Muslim who loves the Constitution, respects the rule of law, and wants to raise a family in peace is more than welcome in America.

But an Islamist movement that rejects assimilation, builds enclaves governed by its own religious framework, and treats American law as optional is not simply another participant in our melting pot. It is a direct challenge to it. If we refuse to call this problem out out of fear of being called names, we will bear the consequences.

Europe is already feeling those consequences — rising conflict and a political class too paralyzed to admit the obvious. When people feel their culture, safety, and freedoms slipping away, they will follow anyone who promises to defend them. History has shown that over and over again.

Stand up. Speak plainly. Be unafraid. You can practice any faith in this country, but the supremacy of the Constitution and the Judeo-Christian moral framework that shaped it is non-negotiable. It is what guarantees your freedom in the first place.

If you come here and honor that foundation, welcome. If you come here to undermine it, you do not belong here.

Wake up to what is unfolding before the consequences arrive. Because when a nation refuses to say what is true, the truth eventually forces its way in — and by then, it is always too late.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

Shocking: AI-written country song tops charts, sparks soul debate

VCG / Contributor | Getty Images

A machine can imitate heartbreak well enough to top the charts, but it cannot carry grief, choose courage, or hear the whisper that calls human beings to something higher.

The No. 1 country song in America right now was not written in Nashville or Texas or even L.A. It came from code. “Walk My Walk,” the AI-generated single by the AI artist Breaking Rust, hit the top spot on Billboard’s Country Digital Song Sales chart, and if you listen to it without knowing that fact, you would swear a real singer lived the pain he is describing.

Except there is no “he.” There is no lived experience. There is no soul behind the voice dominating the country music charts.

If a machine can imitate the soul, then what is the soul?

I will admit it: I enjoy some AI music. Some of it is very good. And that leaves us with a question that is no longer science fiction. If a machine can fake being human this well, what does it mean to be human?

A new world of artificial experience

This is not just about one song. We are walking straight into a technological moment that will reshape everyday life.

Elon Musk said recently that we may not even have phones in five years. Instead, we will carry a small device that listens, anticipates, and creates — a personal AI agent that knows what we want to hear before we ask. It will make the music, the news, the podcasts, the stories. We already live in digital bubbles. Soon, those bubbles might become our own private worlds.

If an algorithm can write a hit country song about hardship and perseverance without a shred of actual experience, then the deeper question becomes unavoidable: If a machine can imitate the soul, then what is the soul?

What machines can never do

A machine can produce, and soon it may produce better than we can. It can calculate faster than any human mind. It can rearrange the notes and words of a thousand human songs into something that sounds real enough to fool millions.

But it cannot care. It cannot love. It cannot choose right and wrong. It cannot forgive because it cannot be hurt. It cannot stand between a child and danger. It cannot walk through sorrow.

A machine can imitate the sound of suffering. It cannot suffer.

The difference is the soul. The divine spark. The thing God breathed into man that no code will ever have. Only humans can take pain and let it grow into compassion. Only humans can take fear and turn it into courage. Only humans can rebuild their lives after losing everything. Only humans hear the whisper inside, the divine voice that says, “Live for something greater.”

We are building artificial minds. We are not building artificial life.

Questions that define us

And as these artificial minds grow sharper, as their tools become more convincing, the right response is not panic. It is to ask the oldest and most important questions.

Who am I? Why am I here? What is the meaning of freedom? What is worth defending? What is worth sacrificing for?

That answer is not found in a lab or a server rack. It is found in that mysterious place inside each of us where reason meets faith, where suffering becomes wisdom, where God reminds us we are more than flesh and more than thought. We are not accidents. We are not circuits. We are not replaceable.

Europa Press News / Contributor | Getty Images

The miracle machines can never copy

Being human is not about what we can produce. Machines will outproduce us. That is not the question. Being human is about what we can choose. We can choose to love even when it costs us something. We can choose to sacrifice when it is not easy. We can choose to tell the truth when the world rewards lies. We can choose to stand when everyone else bows. We can create because something inside us will not rest until we do.

An AI content generator can borrow our melodies, echo our stories, and dress itself up like a human soul, but it cannot carry grief across a lifetime. It cannot forgive an enemy. It cannot experience wonder. It cannot look at a broken world and say, “I am going to build again.”

The age of machines is rising. And if we do not know who we are, we will shrink. But if we use this moment to remember what makes us human, it will help us to become better, because the one thing no algorithm will ever recreate is the miracle that we exist at all — the miracle of the human soul.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

Is Socialism seducing a lost generation?

Jeremy Weine / Stringer | Getty Images

A generation that’s lost faith in capitalism is turning to the oldest lie on earth: equality through control.

Something is breaking in America’s young people. You can feel it in every headline, every grocery bill, every young voice quietly asking if the American dream still means anything at all.

For many, the promise of America — work hard, build something that lasts, and give the next generation a better start — feels like it no longer exists. Home ownership and stability have become luxuries for a fortunate few.

Capitalism is not a perfect system. It is flawed because people are flawed, but it remains the only system that rewards creativity and effort rather than punishing them.

In that vacuum of hope, a new promise has begun to rise — one that sounds compassionate, equal, and fair. The promise of socialism.

The appeal of a broken dream

When the American dream becomes a checklist of things few can afford — a home, a car, two children, even a little peace — disappointment quickly turns to resentment. The average first-time homebuyer is now 40 years old. Debt lasts longer than marriages. The cost of living rises faster than opportunity.

For a generation that has never seen the system truly work, capitalism feels like a rigged game built to protect those already at the top.

That is where socialism finds its audience. It presents itself as fairness for the forgotten and justice for the disillusioned. It speaks softly at first, offering equality, compassion, and control disguised as care.

We are seeing that illusion play out now in New York City, where Zohran Mamdani — an open socialist — has won a major political victory. The same ideology that once hid behind euphemisms now campaigns openly throughout America’s once-great cities. And for many who feel left behind, it sounds like salvation.

But what socialism calls fairness is submission dressed as virtue. What it calls order is obedience. Once the system begins to replace personal responsibility with collective dependence, the erosion of liberty is only a matter of time.

The bridge that never ends

Socialism is not a destination; it is a bridge. Karl Marx described it as the necessary transition to communism — the scaffolding that builds the total state. Under socialism, people are taught to obey. Under communism, they forget that any other options exist.

History tells the story clearly. Russia, China, Cambodia, Cuba — each promised equality and delivered misery. One hundred million lives were lost, not because socialism failed, but because it succeeded at what it was designed to do: make the state supreme and the individual expendable.

Today’s advocates insist their version will be different — democratic, modern, and kind. They often cite Sweden as an example, but Sweden’s prosperity was never born of socialism. It grew out of capitalism, self-reliance, and a shared moral culture. Now that system is cracking under the weight of bureaucracy and division.

ANGELA WEISS / Contributor | Getty Images

The real issue is not economic but moral. Socialism begins with a lie about human nature — that people exist for the collective and that the collective knows better than the individual.

This lie is contrary to the truths on which America was founded — that rights come not from government’s authority, but from God’s. Once government replaces that authority, compassion becomes control, and freedom becomes permission.

What young America deserves

Young Americans have many reasons to be frustrated. They were told to study, work hard, and follow the rules — and many did, only to find the goalposts moved again and again. But tearing down the entire house does not make it fairer; it only leaves everyone standing in the rubble.

Capitalism is not a perfect system. It is flawed because people are flawed, but it remains the only system that rewards creativity and effort rather than punishing them. The answer is not revolution but renewal — moral, cultural, and spiritual.

It means restoring honesty to markets, integrity to government, and faith to the heart of our nation. A people who forsake God will always turn to government for salvation, and that road always ends in dependency and decay.

Freedom demands something of us. It requires faith, discipline, and courage. It expects citizens to govern themselves before others govern them. That is the truth this generation deserves to hear again — that liberty is not a gift from the state but a calling from God.

Socialism always begins with promises and ends with permission. It tells you what to drive, what to say, what to believe, all in the name of fairness. But real fairness is not everyone sharing the same chains — it is everyone having the same chance.

The American dream was never about guarantees. It was about the right to try, to fail, and try again. That freedom built the most prosperous nation in history, and it can do so again if we remember that liberty is not a handout but a duty.

Socialism does not offer salvation. It requires subservience.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

Rage isn’t conservatism — THIS is what true patriots stand for

Gary Hershorn / Contributor | Getty Images

Conservatism is not about rage or nostalgia. It’s about moral clarity, national renewal, and guarding the principles that built America’s freedom.

Our movement is at a crossroads, and the question before us is simple: What does it mean to be a conservative in America today?

For years, we have been told what we are against — against the left, against wokeism, against decline. But opposition alone does not define a movement, and it certainly does not define a moral vision.

We are not here to cling to the past or wallow in grievance. We are not the movement of rage. We are the movement of reason and hope.

The media, as usual, are eager to supply their own answer. The New York Times recently suggested that Nick Fuentes represents the “future” of conservatism. That’s nonsense — a distortion of both truth and tradition. Fuentes and those like him do not represent American conservatism. They represent its counterfeit.

Real conservatism is not rage. It is reverence. It does not treat the past as a museum, but as a teacher. America’s founders asked us to preserve their principles and improve upon their practice. That means understanding what we are conserving — a living covenant, not a relic.

Conservatism as stewardship

In 2025, conservatism means stewardship — of a nation, a culture, and a moral inheritance too precious to abandon. To conserve is not to freeze history. It is to stand guard over what is essential. We are custodians of an experiment in liberty that rests on the belief that rights come not from kings or Congress, but from the Creator.

That belief built this country. It will be what saves it. The Constitution is a covenant between generations. Conservatism is the duty to keep that covenant alive — to preserve what works, correct what fails, and pass on both wisdom and freedom to those who come next.

Economics, culture, and morality are inseparable. Debt is not only fiscal; it is moral. Spending what belongs to the unborn is theft. Dependence is not compassion; it is weakness parading as virtue. A society that trades responsibility for comfort teaches citizens how to live as slaves.

Freedom without virtue is not freedom; it is chaos. A culture that mocks faith cannot defend liberty, and a nation that rejects truth cannot sustain justice. Conservatism must again become the moral compass of a disoriented people, reminding America that liberty survives only when anchored to virtue.

Rebuilding what is broken

We cannot define ourselves by what we oppose. We must build families, communities, and institutions that endure. Government is broken because education is broken, and education is broken because we abandoned the formation of the mind and the soul. The work ahead is competence, not cynicism.

Conservatives should embrace innovation and technology while rejecting the chaos of Silicon Valley. Progress must not come at the expense of principle. Technology must strengthen people, not replace them. Artificial intelligence should remain a servant, never a master. The true strength of a nation is not measured by data or bureaucracy, but by the quiet webs of family, faith, and service that hold communities together. When Washington falters — and it will — those neighborhoods must stand.

Eric Lee / Stringer | Getty Images

This is the real work of conservatism: to conserve what is good and true and to reform what has decayed. It is not about slogans; it is about stewardship — the patient labor of building a civilization that remembers what it stands for.

A creed for the rising generation

We are not here to cling to the past or wallow in grievance. We are not the movement of rage. We are the movement of reason and hope.

For the rising generation, conservatism cannot be nostalgia. It must be more than a memory of 9/11 or admiration for a Reagan era they never lived through. Many young Americans did not experience those moments — and they should not have to in order to grasp the lessons they taught and the truths they embodied. The next chapter is not about preserving relics but renewing purpose. It must speak to conviction, not cynicism; to moral clarity, not despair.

Young people are searching for meaning in a culture that mocks truth and empties life of purpose. Conservatism should be the moral compass that reminds them freedom is responsibility and that faith, family, and moral courage remain the surest rebellions against hopelessness.

To be a conservative in 2025 is to defend the enduring principles of American liberty while stewarding the culture, the economy, and the spirit of a free people. It is to stand for truth when truth is unfashionable and to guard moral order when the world celebrates chaos.

We are not merely holding the torch. We are relighting it.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.