A Surgeon's Son Diagnoses the Health Care Mess in America

Riaz Patel, television producer and friend of the program, joined Glenn on radio Monday to share a very personal story about health care in America. Patel's father, a surgeon who practiced on three continents and treated an estimated 250,000 patients, recently passed just weeks after being diagnosed with cancer. He described what his father saw at board meetings as the head of a hospital.

"He ran all the decisions of the hospital: who needed what, when they needed it, how long they'd stay. Then eventually there was one MBA, then two MBAs. And then eventually, there were no doctors represented. So everything we're talking about, whether it's two-party system, single-party system, the government, insurance, pre-approvals, none of that has anything to do with you and your doctor," Riaz said.

Most doctors dislike the current medical system which is burdened by red tape and bureaucracy. They just want to treat patients.

"You go through four years of undergrad, four years of medical school, you end up with this enormous amount of debt. And you come out, and you cannot practice medicine freely. You cannot make decisions autonomously between you and your patient that's sitting in front of you bleeding. You have to go consult with people who have nothing to do with that patient dynamic," Patel described.

The experience is infuriating to doctors and patients alike.

"What I'm really angry about these days is the business of the politics of health care. There is enough money out there, Glenn, to cover us all. I saw patients come to my father's house in the 1970s, when we had it out of our garage. To treat patients on a day-to-day basis is not that expensive. Why does it become so prohibitive? Why can the patient not receive the care, the doctor not treat? Where is the money going?" Patel questioned.

Some small town doctors are returning to a cash-only system that Patel's father once practiced as well, cutting out the middle man and lowering costs.

"These doctors would come, roving through these small towns and say, look, I'll do it for this much cash. And I think at a certain point, this is all we're discussing, bringing it bottom-up. We need to bring it back to basics. You and your doctor need to decide what is best for you and how to pay for it. They say one-third is going to policy and bureaucracy. That's insane," Riaz said.

Glenn summed it up.

"What you're asking for," he said, "is a return to common sense and a return to trust in neighbors."

GLENN: A very good friend of the program and one of the more decent men I know, Riaz Patel is joining us now. Riaz has been away for a while and been out of the country, had a new baby, has been spending time with his family, and unfortunately has lost his dear family here recently. Riaz, how are you doing recently?

RIAZ: I'm okay. Hi, Glenn. Nice to hear your voice. Hello.

GLENN: Good to hear you. Good to hear you. I wanted to talk to you today a little bit, Riaz, about -- you know, we had kind of a nice conversation over the last week about our dads.

RIAZ: Yes. Yes.

GLENN: And losing your dad and what that feels like. It's a weird thing that never seems to go away.

RIAZ: It's like a free fall of sadness and emotion. It's so visceral. It's so hard to explain. When we were going back and forth, it was one of those things that I'm like, if you've been through it, you sort of sense it. It's intense.

GLENN: Yeah. And it's strange because it -- at least with me, and I don't -- you know, I don't know about anybody else, but at least with me, the memories of my mother and my father have changed. And they -- they change as I get older. And -- and it's weird. Depending on which part of them you want to focus on, they become either better or worse than they really were.

RIAZ: Fascinating. Because it's so recent. It's, you know, less than two, three weeks. you know, when we were talking, I couldn't imagine that memory adjusting and changing. But, you know, I'm only a couple weeks in, so I imagine life as long it will.

GLENN: Yeah, you really want to write down everything you knew about your dad because it will change and you'll forget some things.

RIAZ: I started yesterday, per your advice. I actually did. I started writing down all the memories, good, bad, all that, to sort of keep it fresh now and notice how it changes overtime.

GLENN: Yeah. So, Riaz, your dad was a doctor. And he was a doctor on three continents.

RIAZ: Correct.

GLENN: With three different systems of medicine. And you and I were also going back and forth on health care. And you are, you know, a lefty or a liberal, if you will. But you're also the guy who went up to Alaska during the -- the Trump campaign, and all of your friends were saying, "How could these people ever vote for Trump?" And as you looked at it, you went up to Alaska, and you saw the suffering of people in the country and said, they're afraid of losing everything. And they don't have -- they don't have the money to be able to survive in this, if continues this way.

RIAZ: Yeah. Yeah. Part of the quest of, what do I not know out there? What do I think I know, but I not know?

And you have to be pretty deaf to not be able to hear that health care is broken. And I don't know anyone -- anyone, if you were to ask people to raise their hands, would raise their hand and say, yep, it's working for me.

So it was fascinating, as I was sitting in the aftermath of my father's death and talking to his secretaries -- Bernie and Ruth had been with him, you know, 20, 30 years -- about the patients, the patient community. Because he had been there for 40-plus years. So those patients are going to feel the change.

And as we discussed that patient community of Edgewood, Maryland, I realized it's very much a microcosm of what's happened in America. And what's fascinating is the way my dad adapted his practice and the practice of medicine to the changing economic times.

Edgewood, Maryland, is a blue-collar town. And over the past 40 years, it has statistically decreased its income. I mean, jobs went out. I remember factories closing when I was a teenager, but people still got sick. And people still slipped and fell.

And so what happened when they lost their job, they lost their income, they lost their insurance, but they still got sick. And they went to my dad. And my dad created this island -- you know, and it's not that uncommon, for a doctor to just want to practice medicine and say, to hell with the insurance and the preapprovals.

GLENN: Oh, I -- I think -- I think most doctors are like that. Most doctors just hate the system. They want to treat people. And they hate the system.

RIAZ: You go through four years of undergrad. Four years of medical school. You end up with this enormous amount of debt. And you come out, and you cannot practice medicine freely. You cannot make decisions autonomously between you and your patient that's sitting in front of you bleeding. You have to go consult with people who have nothing to do with that patient dynamic. And that's infuriating to doctors. It's infuriating to patients. And so what I'm really angry about these days is the business of the politics of health care. There is enough money out there, Glenn, to cover us all. I saw patients come to my father's house in the 1970s, when we had it out of our garage. To treat patients on a day-to-day basis is not that expensive. Why does it become so prohibitive? Why can the patient not receive the care, the doctor not treat? Where is the money going?

GLENN: So, Riaz, here's part of the problem: If I am spending somebody else's money and I -- let me say this carefully. One of the problems is, with the -- with the employer insurance and you not having to shop around -- when we are responsible for our own money, when somebody says to us, hey, there's -- I can get you in for a CAT scan right here, right now, and it's -- I'm just making numbers up. $1,000. Or you can drive in Dallas, there's a place you can drive from my -- my house, there's one that you can drive just down the street. You'll have to make an appointment. You'll get it by tomorrow. But it's not right here. And it's half the cost.

Same thing, just half the cost.

RIAZ: Which shows the fluctuation of pricing that has nothing to do with the actual administration of medicine.

GLENN: Well, convenience -- one thing is convenience. And also, these companies being able to gouge your eyes out because most people, they don't care about the price because it's not them paying for it.

RIAZ: Uh-huh.

GLENN: And so when you remove the responsibility of, wait a minute. It's my money. I'm going to have to pay for it, then you -- you -- for instance, with home insurance. I could file -- my home was struck by lightning this weekend.

RIAZ: Oh. Oh, I would look into that, Glenn.

GLENN: I know. I know. Wait a minute. What are you saying there?

So it was struck by lightning, and I said to my wife -- she was gone and she worked with her dad who was an insurance agent. And I'm like, "Blew the TV. Blew the system. You know, blew a whole bunch of stuff." And she said, "Well, we have a huge deductible." And I thought, "Oh, crap. We do, don't we? Oh, it's not free anymore."

RIAZ: Yeah.

GLENN: So you start to now care, wait a minute. Who did I call? Let's make sure I'm pricing this the right way. And so there is a difference. And it's the free market system. And Washington is taking it even further. They're just making deals with the insurance companies and with all the people who are getting rich, including them.

RIAZ: So my father was in the 1970s and '80s, was a medical director of a hospital, a small hospital in this area. And I watched as a kid as the board -- he ran all the decisions of the hospital: Who needed what, when they needed it, how long they'd stay. Then eventually there was one MBA, then two MBAs. And then eventually, there were no doctors represented.

So everything we're talking about, whether it's two-party system, single-party system, the government, insurance, preapprovals, none of that has anything to do with you and your doctor.

And to me, what my father brought, having trained in Karachi, Pakistan, in London, England, was a very different perspective, that you treat first your physician and then the billing comes next.

And what he did is said, you're sick, you come in. And then you go to billing. And what happened was, it became so personal that Ruth or Bernie would say to Mr. Johnson, "Okay. Here's what happened." And Mr. Johnson would say, "I don't have my job. I don't have insurance. But I can pay $40." And they would be like, "Okay." Because we know, in health care, that's better than nothing.

And my father would just say, the personal responsibility of the physician to treat is the joy of his life. And at a certain point, working at the hospital, it was so bureaucratic with the lawyers and the MBAs and the lobbyists in a small hospital, that he actually left the hospital, built his own surgical center and said, "I cannot practice medicine appropriately in the way it works."

GLENN: So what you're asking for though is a return to common sense and a return to trust in neighbors.

I'm reading this book called Mistakes Were Made, But Not by Me. And it talks about the -- why we don't say I'm sorry. And it gets to this one place about doctors. And they track doctors in a study of those who said, "Wow, I made a huge mistake," all the way to a doctor who came out of surgery, the patient dies, and he says, "Look, I -- I don't know what the -- I don't know what the autopsy is going to show. I don't know. There will be an investigation. But your husband died, and I believe it was my fault."

And they were angry. And he said, "Look, I didn't have any reason to suspect this, but I just really feel like I should have caught that. And I just want you to know I take responsibility."

The doctors that say the truth are the least likely to be sued. But because of the system that has been set up by the attorneys and everything else, nobody is having real conversations with each other.

RIAZ: And that is the problem. And so in this tiny patient community of Edgewood, they were able to create this walk-in medical center, nothing fancy, where neighbors walked in, up to three, four generations and were treated.

And to me -- and my father was diagnosed with cancer and died in seven weeks, literally. I would say we spent 80 percent of our time trying to navigate insurance: Was this preapproved? Was this equipment sent?

And my father, who treated a quarter of a million patients over the course of his life, we could not get a bed for him to ease his pain because we could not track down the paperwork. So the last five days of his life, he sat in pain because the four of us --

GLENN: Wow

RIAZ: -- you have -- I'm a producer. My sister is a lawyer. My other sister is a physician with her own practice. My husband manages health care.

The four of us could not navigate the system. And each day, my father sat there in pain. And we said, "I think the bed is arriving today. I called the office. I called the home health. I called the person." All we did was manage it.

And I'm thinking, after he's dead and I'm standing there near the grave, I'm like, "How can this continue? How can a person get sick and go to their doctor and 4,000 people and 10 million letters will go on, that has nothing to do with that dynamic?"

GLENN: I have about two -- I have about two minutes.

Can you talk a little bit about the off-the-grid medicine that you saw in Alaska?

RIAZ: In Alaska, when I was there, I saw in a local paper that they actually were advertising -- doctors were coming and setting up basically bundling your health care, saying people are not going to doctor's offices because they don't have insurance and money. But you cannot avoid your own health.

And so these doctors would come, roving through these small towns and say, "Look, I'll do it for this much cash." And I think at a certain point, this is all we're discussing. Bringing it bottom-up. We need to bring it back to basics. You and your doctor need to decide what is best for you and how to pay for it. They say one-third is going to policy and bureaucracy. That's insane.

GLENN: So Mike -- Mike Lee, the senator -- the most conservative senator, one of them, just wrote an op-ed and said, "Look. I'll sign on. This is not going to fix anything. It's already premiums from Obamacare are up 140 percent. There's nothing in this Trumpcare that's going to make this any better." He said, "I'll sign on, but only if you let states opt out and come up with their own thing." He said, "Because I believe the people of the country will figure it out in their own way, if you just leave them alone." Do you agree with that?

RIAZ: I believe it is so broken right now, I do not know how to fix it. But I know that people will still slip and fall. They will still feel unwell on a Monday morning, and they need to go to their doctor. So I don't know what DC or politicians or insurance are going to do with their multibillion-dollar lobby, but I really encourage people if they're sick, to go to their local physician and say, "Here's what's going on. This is my life."

The insurance companies have removed that ability to talk to your doctor and vice-versa about the fact that, hey, I'm sick, but I don't have money. How can I be treated? And there's money for all of us to be cared for. But the business of politics and health care is absorbing it at all.

GLENN: Riaz, always good to talk to you. And I'm so sorry for the loss of your father.

RIAZ: Thank you. Good to talk to you. Bye, Glenn!

GLENN: God bless you. We'll see you soon. Thank you, Riaz. Buh-bye. Riaz Patel.

I know that in Texas, this is the feeling of many of the doctors of you know what, I'm just pulling out of the system. And I'll just deal with it myself.

I personally think that as we get closer to universal, single-payer system, those doctors are going to be told, you can't do that. But that is the solution. Leave people alone, and they will work it out on the -- on the most basic level.

Now, maybe they won't in the big cities, so the cities do something else. But they will around the rest of the country.

Trump v. Slaughter: The Deep State on trial

JIM WATSON / Contributor | Getty Images

The administrative state has long operated as an unelected super-government. Trump v. Slaughter may be the moment voters reclaim authority over their own institutions.

Washington is watching and worrying about a U.S. Supreme Court case that could very well define the future of American self-government. And I don’t say that lightly. At the center of Trump v. Slaughter is a deceptively simple question: Can the president — the one official chosen by the entire nation — remove the administrators and “experts” who wield enormous, unaccountable power inside the executive branch?

This isn’t a technical fight. It’s not a paperwork dispute. It’s a turning point. Because if the answer is no, then the American people no longer control their own government. Elections become ceremonial. The bureaucracy becomes permanent. And the Constitution becomes a suggestion rather than the law of the land.

A government run by experts instead of elected leaders is not a republic. It’s a bureaucracy with a voting booth bolted onto the front to make us feel better.

That simply cannot be. Justice Neil Gorsuch summed it up perfectly during oral arguments on Monday: “There is no such thing in our constitutional order as a fourth branch of government that’s quasi-judicial and quasi-legislative.”

Yet for more than a century, the administrative state has grown like kudzu — quietly, relentlessly, and always in one direction. Today we have a fourth branch of government: unelected, unaccountable, insulated from consequence. Congress hands off lawmaking to agencies. Presidents arrive with agendas, but the bureaucrats remain, and they decide what actually gets done.

If the Supreme Court decides that presidents cannot fire the very people who execute federal power, they are not just rearranging an org chart. The justices are rewriting the structure of the republic. They are confirming what we’ve long feared: Here, the experts rule, not the voters.

A government run by experts instead of elected leaders is not a republic. It’s a bureaucracy with a voting booth bolted onto the front to make us feel better.

The founders warned us

The men who wrote the Constitution saw this temptation coming. Alexander Hamilton and James Madison in the Federalist Papers hammered home the same principle again and again: Power must remain traceable to the people. They understood human nature far too well. They knew that once administrators are protected from accountability, they will accumulate power endlessly. It is what humans do.

That’s why the Constitution vests the executive power in a single president — someone the entire nation elects and can unelect. They did not want a managerial council. They did not want a permanent priesthood of experts. They wanted responsibility and authority to live in one place so the people could reward or replace it.

So this case will answer a simple question: Do the people still govern this country, or does a protected class of bureaucrats now run the show?

Not-so-expert advice

Look around. The experts insisted they could manage the economy — and produced historic debt and inflation.

The experts insisted they could run public health — and left millions of Americans sick, injured, and dead while avoiding accountability.

The experts insisted they could steer foreign policy — and delivered endless conflict with no measurable benefit to our citizens.

And through it all, they stayed. Untouched, unelected, and utterly unapologetic.

If a president cannot fire these people, then you — the voter — have no ability to change the direction of your own government. You can vote for reform, but you will get the same insiders making the same decisions in the same agencies.

That is not self-government. That is inertia disguised as expertise.

A republic no more?

A monarchy can survive a permanent bureaucracy. A dictatorship can survive a permanent bureaucracy. A constitutional republic cannot. Not for long anyway.

We are supposed to live in a system where the people set the course, Congress writes the laws, and the president carries them out. When agencies write their own rules, judges shield them from oversight, and presidents are forbidden from removing them, we no longer live in that system. We live in something else — something the founders warned us about.

And the people become spectators of their own government.

JIM WATSON / Contributor | Getty Images

The path forward

Restoring the separation of powers does not mean rejecting expertise. It means returning expertise to its proper role: advisory, not sovereign.

No expert should hold power that voters cannot revoke. No agency should drift beyond the reach of the executive. No bureaucracy should be allowed to grow branches the Constitution never gave it.

The Supreme Court now faces a choice that will shape American life for a generation. It can reinforce the Constitution, or it can allow the administrative state to wander even farther from democratic control.

This case isn’t about President Trump. It isn’t about Rebecca Slaughter, the former Federal Trade Commission official suing to get her job back. It’s about whether elections still mean anything — whether the American people still hold the reins of their own government.

That is what is at stake: not procedure, not technicalities, but the survival of a system built on the revolutionary idea that the citizens — not the experts — are the ones who rule.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

1 in 20 Canadians die by MAID—Is this 'compassion'?

Vaughn Ridley / Stringer | Getty Images

Medical assistance in dying isn’t health care. It’s the moment a Western democracy decided some lives aren’t worth saving, and it’s a warning sign we can’t ignore.

Canada loves to lecture America about compassion. Every time a shooting makes the headlines, Canadian commentators cannot wait to discuss how the United States has a “culture of death” because we refuse to regulate guns the way enlightened nations supposedly do.

But north of our border, a very different crisis is unfolding — one that is harder to moralize because it exposes a deeper cultural failure.

A society that no longer recognizes the value of life will not long defend freedom, dignity, or moral order.

The Canadian government is not only permitting death, but it’s also administering, expanding, and redefining it as “medical care.” Medical assistance in dying is no longer a rare, tragic exception. It has become one of the country’s leading causes of death, offered to people whose problems are treatable, whose conditions are survivable, and whose value should never have been in question.

In Canada, MAID is now responsible for nearly 5% of all deaths — 1 out of every 20 citizens. And this is happening in a country that claims the moral high ground over American gun violence. Canada now records more deaths per capita from doctors administering lethal drugs than America records from firearms. Their number is 37.9 deaths per 100,000 people. Ours is 13.7. Yet we are the country supposedly drowning in a “culture of death.”

No lecture from abroad can paper over this fact: Canada has built a system where eliminating suffering increasingly means eliminating the sufferer.

Choosing death over care

One example of what Canada now calls “compassion” is the case of Jolene Bond, a woman suffering from a painful but treatable thyroid condition that causes dangerously high calcium levels, bone deterioration, soft-tissue damage, nausea, and unrelenting pain. Her condition is severe, but it is not terminal. Surgery could help her. And in a functioning medical system, she would have it.

But Jolene lives under socialized medicine. The specialists she needs are either unavailable, overrun with patients, or blocked behind bureaucratic requirements she cannot meet. She cannot get a referral. She cannot get an appointment. She cannot reach the doctor in another province who is qualified to perform the operation. Every pathway to treatment is jammed by paperwork, shortages, and waitlists that stretch into the horizon and beyond.

Yet the Canadian government had something else ready for her — something immediate.

They offered her MAID.

Not help, not relief, not a doctor willing to drive across a provincial line and simply examine her. Instead, Canada offered Jolene a state-approved death. A lethal injection is easier to obtain than a medical referral. Killing her would be easier than treating her. And the system calls that compassion.

Bureaucracy replaces medicine

Jolene’s story is not an outlier. It is the logical outcome of a system that cannot keep its promises. When the machinery of socialized medicine breaks down, the state simply replaces care with a final, irreversible “solution.” A bureaucratic checkbox becomes the last decision of a person’s life.

Canada insists its process is rigorous, humane, and safeguarded. Yet the bureaucracy now reviewing Jolene’s case is not asking how she can receive treatment; it is asking whether she has enough signatures to qualify for a lethal injection. And the debate among Canadian officials is not how to preserve life, but whether she has met the paperwork threshold to end it.

This is the dark inversion that always emerges when the state claims the power to decide when life is no longer worth living. Bureaucracy replaces conscience. Eligibility criteria replace compassion. A panel of physicians replaces the family gathered at a bedside. And eventually, the “right” to die becomes an expectation — especially for those who are poor, elderly, or alone.

Joe Raedle / Staff | Getty Images

The logical end of a broken system

We ignore this lesson at our own peril. Canada’s health care system is collapsing under demographic pressure, uncontrolled migration, and the unavoidable math of government-run medicine.

When the system breaks, someone must bear the cost. MAID has become the release valve.

The ideology behind this system is already drifting south. In American medical journals and bioethics conferences, you will hear this same rhetoric. The argument is always dressed in compassion. But underneath, it reduces the value of human life to a calculation: Are you useful? Are you affordable? Are you too much of a burden?

The West was built on a conviction that every human life has inherent value. That truth gave us hospitals before it gave us universities. It gave us charity before it gave us science. It is written into the Declaration of Independence.

Canada’s MAID program reveals what happens when a country lets that foundation erode. Life becomes negotiable, and suffering becomes a justification for elimination.

A society that no longer recognizes the value of life will not long defend freedom, dignity, or moral order. If compassion becomes indistinguishable from convenience, and if medicine becomes indistinguishable from euthanasia, the West will have abandoned the very principles that built it. That is the lesson from our northern neighbor — a warning, not a blueprint.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

A Sharia enclave is quietly taking root in America. It's time to wake up.

NOVA SAFO / Staff | Getty Images

Sharia-based projects like the Meadow in Texas show how political Islam grows quietly, counting on Americans to stay silent while an incompatible legal system takes root.

Apolitical system completely incompatible with the Constitution is gaining ground in the United States, and we are pretending it is not happening.

Sharia — the legal and political framework of Islam — is being woven into developments, institutions, and neighborhoods, including a massive project in Texas. And the consequences will be enormous if we continue to look the other way.

This is the contradiction at the heart of political Islam: It claims universal authority while insisting its harshest rules will never be enforced here. That promise does not stand up to scrutiny. It never has.

Before we can have an honest debate, we’d better understand what Sharia represents. Sharia is not simply a set of religious rules about prayer or diet. It is a comprehensive legal and political structure that governs marriage, finance, criminal penalties, and civic life. It is a parallel system that claims supremacy wherever it takes hold.

This is where the distinction matters. Many Muslims in America want nothing to do with Sharia governance. They came here precisely because they lived under it. But political Islam — the movement that seeks to implement Sharia as law — is not the same as personal religious belief.

It is a political ideology with global ambitions, much like communism. Secretary of State Marco Rubio recently warned that Islamist movements do not seek peaceful coexistence with the West. They seek dominance. History backs him up.

How Sharia arrives

Political Islam does not begin with dramatic declarations. It starts quietly, through enclaves that operate by their own rules. That is why the development once called EPIC City — now rebranded as the Meadow — is so concerning. Early plans framed it as a Muslim-only community built around a mega-mosque and governed by Sharia-compliant financing. After state investigations were conducted, the branding changed, but the underlying intent remained the same.

Developers have openly described practices designed to keep non-Muslims out, using fees and ownership structures to create de facto religious exclusivity. This is not assimilation. It is the construction of a parallel society within a constitutional republic.

The warning from those who have lived under it

Years ago, local imams in Texas told me, without hesitation, that certain Sharia punishments “just work.” They spoke about cutting off hands for theft, stoning adulterers, and maintaining separate standards of testimony for men and women. They insisted it was logical and effective while insisting they would never attempt to implement it in Texas.

But when pressed, they could not explain why a system they consider divinely mandated would suddenly stop applying once someone crossed a border.

This is the contradiction at the heart of political Islam: It claims universal authority while insisting its harshest rules will never be enforced here. That promise does not stand up to scrutiny. It never has.

AASHISH KIPHAYET / Contributor | Getty Images

America is vulnerable

Europe is already showing us where this road leads. No-go zones, parallel courts, political intimidation, and clerics preaching supremacy have taken root across major cities.

America’s strength has always come from its melting pot, but assimilation requires boundaries. It requires insisting that the Constitution, not religious law, is the supreme authority on this soil.

Yet we are becoming complacent, even fearful, about saying so. We mistake silence for tolerance. We mistake avoidance for fairness. Meanwhile, political Islam views this hesitation as weakness.

Religious freedom is one of America’s greatest gifts. Muslims may worship freely here, as they should. But political Islam must not be permitted to plant a flag on American soil. The Constitution cannot coexist with a system that denies equal rights, restricts speech, subordinates women, and places clerical authority above civil law.

Wake up before it is too late

Projects like the Meadow are not isolated. They are test runs, footholds, proofs of concept. Political Islam operates with patience. It advances through demographic growth, legal ambiguity, and cultural hesitation — and it counts on Americans being too polite, too distracted, or too afraid to confront it.

We cannot afford that luxury. If we fail to defend the principles that make this country free, we will one day find ourselves asking how a parallel system gained power right in front of us. The answer will be simple: We looked away.

The time to draw boundaries and to speak honestly is now. The time to defend the Constitution as the supreme law of the land is now. Act while there is still time.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

The Crisis of Meaning: Searching for truth and purpose

Mario Tama / Staff | Getty Images

Anxiety, anger, and chronic dissatisfaction signal a country searching for meaning. Without truth and purpose, politics becomes a dangerous substitute for identity.

We have built a world overflowing with noise, convenience, and endless choice, yet something essential has slipped out of reach. You can sense it in the restless mood of the country, the anxiety among young people who cannot explain why they feel empty, in the angry confusion that dominates our politics.

We have more wealth than any nation in history, but the heart of the culture feels strangely malnourished. Before we can debate debt or elections, we must confront the reality that we created a world of things, but not a world of purpose.

You cannot survive a crisis you refuse to name, and you cannot rebuild a world whose foundations you no longer understand.

What we are living through is not just economic or political dysfunction. It is the vacuum that appears when a civilization mistakes abundance for meaning.

Modern life is stuffed with everything except what the human soul actually needs. We built systems to make life faster, easier, and more efficient — and then wondered why those systems cannot teach our children who they are, why they matter, or what is worth living for.

We tell the next generation to chase success, influence, and wealth, turning childhood into branding. We ask kids what they want to do, not who they want to be. We build a world wired for dopamine rather than dignity, and then we wonder why so many people feel unmoored.

When everything is curated, optimized, and delivered at the push of a button, the question “what is my life for?” gets lost in the static.

The crisis beneath the headlines

It is not just the young who feel this crisis. Every part of our society is straining under the weight of meaninglessness.

Look at the debt cycle — the mathematical fate no civilization has ever escaped once it crosses a threshold that we seem to have already blown by. While ordinary families feel the pressure, our leaders respond with distraction, with denial, or by rewriting the very history that could have warned us.

You cannot survive a crisis you refuse to name, and you cannot rebuild a world whose foundations you no longer understand.

We have entered a cultural moment where the noise is so loud that it drowns out the simplest truths. We are living in a country that no longer knows how to hear itself think.

So people go searching. Some drift toward the false promise of socialism, some toward the empty thrill of rebellion. Some simply check out. When a culture forgets what gives life meaning, it becomes vulnerable to every ideology that offers a quick answer.

The quiet return of meaning

And yet, quietly, something else is happening. Beneath the frustration and cynicism, many Americans are recognizing that meaning does not come from what we own, but from what we honor. It does not rise from success, but from virtue. It does not emerge from noise, but from the small, sacred things that modern life has pushed to the margins — the home, the table, the duty you fulfill, the person you help when no one is watching.

The danger is assuming that this rediscovery happens on its own. It does not.

Reorientation requires intention. It requires rebuilding the habits and virtues that once held us together. It requires telling the truth about our history instead of rewriting it to fit today’s narratives. And it requires acknowledging what has been erased: that meaning is inseparable from God’s presence in a nation’s life.

Harold M. Lambert / Contributor | Getty Images

Where renewal begins

We have built a world without stillness, and then we wondered why no one can hear the questions that matter. Those questions remain, whether we acknowledge them or not. They do not disappear just because we drown them in entertainment or noise. They wait for us, and the longer we ignore them, the more disoriented we become.

Meaning is still available. It is found in rebuilding the smallest, most human spaces — the places that cannot be digitized, globalized, or automated. The home. The family. The community.

These are the daily virtues that do not trend on social media, but that hold a civilization upright. If we want to repair this country, we begin there, exactly where every durable civilization has always begun: one virtue at a time, one tradition at a time, one generation at a time.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.