Country Music Star Charlie Daniels Talks About His Faith in New Memoir

Country legend Charlie Daniels has had a long and storied career. He’s now about to turn 81 and set to release his memoir, “Never Look at the Empty Seats.”

“I’ve had a great life,” he said while chatting with Glenn on radio Monday. “I wouldn’t trade lives with anybody.”

Daniels is best known for his country hit, “The Devil Went Down to Georgia,” and he has been inducted into the Grand Ole Opry and the Country Music Hall of Fame. On today’s show, he talked about some of the highs and lows from his more than 60 years in music.

Listen to the full clip to hear Daniels talk about meeting “larger than life” Johnny Cash and share more stories.

This article provided courtesy of TheBlaze.

GLENN: Charlie Daniels is in the studio. And I just was having a chat with him. And I said, I can't believe I'm sitting with Charlie Daniels and he knows my name.

How are you, Charlie?

CHARLIE: I'm good, buddy. Good to be with you. It's an honor.

GLENN: Yeah, you haven't changed a bit. I can't believe you're 80.

CHARLIE: I'll be 81. Twenty-eighth of this month, I'll be 81.

GLENN: Unbelievable. You don't look it at all.

CHARLIE: Well, thank you very much.

GLENN: You have had a remarkable life.

CHARLIE: Oh, I have. I've had a great life. I wouldn't trade lives with anybody. I've done what I've wanted to do for a living for almost 60 years now, exactly what I wanted to do for a living. That's a blessing.

GLENN: And I will tell you -- your book is, by the way, really good.

CHARLIE: Thank you.

GLENN: And it's full of God and blessings, and I want to talk to you about it. But the one thing I didn't know is, at any point, did you think, maybe God doesn't want me to -- to play the fiddle or play the guitar, because you lost a finger.

CHARLIE: I did.

GLENN: Your arms were almost pulled off, from an auger.

CHARLIE: Yeah. You know, I never thought -- I wanted to get up and go on, you know, just beat it and get on with the program.

I did lose a finger in high school. But I lost it on my right hand. If it had been my left hand, it'd have been the end of my career, because that's the one I pushed the strings down, the chord with. But since I just use my other hand, my right hand to hold a fiddle bow and a guitar pick, I was okay.

My arm that got tangled in a post hole digger, it's like an auger that digs post holes in the ground. And my arm literally got wrapped up on it. I had the bone out through the skin in a couple of places, and it was broken completely in two and three places.

And I never went -- you know, a tractor, a lot of times, even after you turn it off, it will -- if it had done that, it would pull my arm off, probably.

And I remember being down on my knees, and I said, help me, Lord. And the guy that had the tractor, when the tractor -- he cut it up and stopped. And then wound my arm and took me to the hospital and get it put back together.

GLENN: And that was 1980. That was the height of your career.

CHARLIE: 1980. The hottest time of my year. Went down to Georgia. Took about four months off. Most frustrating time of my life.

GLENN: Oh, I bet it was.

CHARLIE: But I learned something. I learned during that four months, I did nothing. And when I got back on my feet again and really started to, you know, where I could move around, I was in such terrible condition, I could only walk about 100 yards. And I said, this ain't going to do. And I started walking 110 yards and 120 yards. Anyway, I worked up to where I was doing a good level of exercise. And I had maintained that ever since then.

So I think I needed -- I needed that time in my life to reassess taking care of myself.

GLENN: Yeah.

CHARLIE: And I've done it a lot better since then.

GLENN: So in 1980, you were at your height. Devil went down to Georgia. I mean, it's crazy. The record industry is still the record industry.

CHARLIE: Yeah.

GLENN: And then -- then things start to soften and your ticket prices go down.

CHARLIE: Right.

GLENN: And you realize, not only are we not rolling in the cash, I owe $2 million.

CHARLIE: That's right. I -- that's another lesson I learned. I kind of let that happen over a period of time.

And I got involved in a lot of businesses I shouldn't have been involved in. There were peripheral things to the music business, but -- that I knew nothing about. The first thing I knew, we were $2 million in debt. And I said, we have got to do something about this.

And we had to take -- we took a lot of dates back then. And every old smoky-type place you can find, just for a payday. Just to keep the payment settled. And I said my prayers -- and put on my hat and my boots and picked up my guitar and my fiddle. And we hit the road.

And the day that we got our debts paid off -- we have an annual Christmas party with our company, with our employees. And we took the notes out in the yard and burned them, which was very symbolic to me. I was so glad to get rid of them. But, yeah, that was another lesson I learned.

STU: It's a different way of looking at the world. Because now I feel like when people struggle and they have these problems, they're blaming other people for having -- they want other people to step in and cover their losses. You thought, maybe if I just work my butt off --

CHARLIE: Well, it was my fault. You know, I take responsibility for my actions. I have to.

STU: What language are you speaking?

GLENN: Again, you can tell how old he is just by that statement.

CHARLIE: Well, you know, I think you're a miserable person if you can't -- if you're going to blame everything on somebody else, you have no control over your life. That's ridiculous.

If you want to see your enemy, go look in the mirror. Start there. And then you kind of work your way around and find out what the rest of the problems are.

But basically, I take responsibility for most all the bad things that have happened to me. The good things are blessings of God. The bad things are my fault.

GLENN: Yeah.

If there's one person I could go back in time and meet, they would be the -- the only man I ever saw my grandfather stand up and give a standing ovation to, when he walked out on stage. And it was Johnny Cash.

CHARLIE: Wow. Yeah. Johnny Cash was bigger than life. And when he walked in a room, I mean, he just -- you just could not ignore him.

I -- when I first went to Nashville in '67. I was just another young man with a guitar that showed up the music business and tried to make it in the business. Music City, tried to make it in the business.

And you don't run into many superstars at this stage of your career. But I did run into him, several times around town. And he didn't know who I was. It didn't make any difference who you were. It was like every time you would see him, it was a handshake. And how are you doing? How is it going?

Back and forth. I'm standing there with my mouth open, said, I'm talking to Johnny Cash. I worked for a guy that used to produce Johnny Cash. This guy named Bob Johnson. And I'd run an errand for him once in a while. I'd take a tape to Johnny or something, you know. And usually all he had to do was walk on up, but he didn't do that. He always took time to be a conversational. I never in my life forget what that meant to me and what an encouragement it was. And your granddad had good taste.

GLENN: He did.

CHARLIE: He honored a great man. No doubt about it.

GLENN: I remember being up to his knee. And I remember seeing -- it was at a state fair.

CHARLIE: Uh-huh.

GLENN: And I remember seeing the bus pull up to the back. And this guy in black get out. And he walked out. And my grandfather stood up.

CHARLIE: Yeah.

GLENN: Erect. And gave him a standing ovation. And I remember not looking up at the stage. I remember looking up at my grandfather of seeing his face of admiration of him.

CHARLIE: Oh, he was a great man, no doubt about it. Great artist. Great man. You know, they did a thing. It's called the Top 40 all time country music men or something like that. I can't remember the exact title of it. But I thought Hank Williams would come in at number one. Number one was Johnny Cash. Yeah.

GLENN: Yeah. Who out of all the people -- I mean, you've worked with everyone. And you've been around with everyone. You were in, what? 1973, you were with Ringo Starr, they're joking about, you want to be in the Beatles. I mean, what are the -- who made the lasting impression on you? Who is the one you learned the most from?

CHARLIE: You know, I -- go back to the Johnny Cashes and those -- of course, Johnny had -- I admired Johnny Cash. He had overcome so many adversities in his life, and he just kept going.

And the greatest thing that ever happened to Johnny Cash was June Carter, because she was such an influence on his life.

But as far as who impressed me was concerned, I came along -- when I came along as Bluegrass, it was Flat & Scrubs (phonetic) and Bill Monroe. And Reno and Smiley. And I didn't even want to hear nothing else. That's all I wanted to hear. And about the time Elvis came along, he made it possible for country boys to play rock music. Before then, it was bighorn sections. And, you know, the -- that kind of thing.

GLENN: Yeah.

CHARLIE: And Elvis would come up with two guitars and a bass and drums and started playing rock music.

And everybody said, I want to do that, you know. I remember, Glenn, when I was in -- I think I was a senior in high school, and we had taken a trip down to Silver Springs, Florida. We were touring around on a school trip.

I remember seeing a great big placard. And it was a big country music package show, and it was The Louvin Brothers, Hank Snow. And down at the bottom, in type about the size of almost like typewriter print, it said Jimmie Rodgers Snow and Elvis Presley. And nobody knew who he was. First time I ever heard him, I hated him. He was on the Midnight Jamboree. The Jamboree that comes on after the Grand Ole Opry. And he sang Blue Moon of Kentucky. And it was -- I was a Bill Monroe fanatic, and this guy sang one of Bill Monroe's signature songs. And he sang -- you know how he sang it.

And I thought, who the hell -- I'll never hear from him again. That's the last thing he'll ever do.

It took him on that tour -- it took him all about two weeks to become the most popular thing on the tour. Everybody -- nobody could follow him. It got to where everybody would go in, everyone would start hollering, Elvis, Elvis.

And, you know, Hank Snow, he was a great big artist at the time. The Louvin Brothers were big artists at the time, and everybody wanted to hear him. This new guy that nobody had ever heard of, named Elvis.

GLENN: We're with Charlie.

CHARLIE: He was a big influence on me. I just wanted to say.

GLENN: We're talking to Charlie Daniels. The name of the book is Never Look at the Empty Seats. A couple of other things I want to talk him about. We'll continue our conversation here in a second.

GLENN: The legendary Charlie Daniels is with us. The name of his book, Never Look at the Empty Seats.

If we have time, I got to get him to tell that story in the book, on why he named it that. It's a great, great lesson.

Charlie, I was -- I was impressed by what you talked about with your dad.

CHARLIE: Uh-huh.

GLENN: And describing your dad.

CHARLIE: Yeah.

GLENN: In some ways, I'm an alcoholic. And you described me in many ways.

Your dad was not a wino. When you think of alcoholic, you think of a washed-up --

CHARLIE: Yeah. My dad was probably one of the top five people in pine timber in the southeast. He could look at a pine tree and he could you what kind of pole or piling it would make. How many feet of lumber it would make. And his millions of dollars changed hands on nothing more than his word. He would go cruise attractive timber. He would come back and say, this is worth so many thousands of dollars. They just paid it for him, because they knew his word was good. He had this problem with alcohol, and it truly is a sickness.

And he would go for as long as five years, never touch a drop of liquor. But he always said, I'm one drink away from a drunk. If I take the first one, I'm finished. And somehow, some way, he would take that first one. It was like several weeks to get straightened out. He would lose jobs. But he would always -- he always had a job waiting for him, because he's just that good. Even people that he had worked for before, that fired him, would hire him back again.

So my point was -- I was trying to get the point across, and that was the hard thing for me to talk about. Because usually when you say alcoholic, somebody thinks about something, stumble upon -- you know, walking around, looking for money to -- somebody get him a drink. But dad wasn't that way at all.

He was always loving. He always took care of his family. He was very responsible.

You know, something, Glenn, I used to go to AAA meetings with him. And I met a lot of alcoholics. I have never seen one sorry alcoholic. I saw a lot of sorry old drunks. But literally, the people that I met in his meetings, I mean, they were businessmen. They were responsible people that had that problem.

GLENN: Yeah. Oh, yeah.

CHARLIE: You know, that had that alcoholic problem.

GLENN: If you can beat it, you -- it gives you quite perspective on life. I mean, some of the best people I've ever met are alcoholics.

CHARLIE: Yeah. Yeah. I've been surprised at some people that told me they're alcoholics.

GLENN: So, Charlie, the thing that I'm searching for right now in my own life is what matters most. You know, with all of the stuff that is going on in the world and all of the things we're arguing on and bickering on and everything else, as you look back, out of all the things that you have done and seen and learned, what matters most to you?

CHARLIE: There's four things that rule my life. God, first of all. Family, secondly. My nation, my country, the way I feel about it, the way I want it to be, and my work.

That's the four things -- I try to concentrate on those four things. And as long as I do that, I keep a good perspective. I start getting sidelined by something that somebody else is doing, or something that really agitates me. It takes time away -- I found out it takes just as much time to think a negative as it is to think a positive thought.

GLENN: Yeah. And I tried to live in a positive world.

I got a lot of things that I really enjoy doing. This writing is something I didn't even know I could do.

GLENN: Yeah, it's really good.

CHARLIE: You know, I didn't know I could do it. It's just another talent God gave me, that it took me a long time to discover.

I wrote on this book for 20 years. And I was just making notes and stuff.

And all of a sudden, I said, well, I'm going to make a book out of this. And I could never find a place to end it, because my life wasn't -- I didn't get invited to join the Grand Ole Opry until I was in my 70s. So interesting things kept happening, and I kept writing.

And I could never find a place to end it, until I was told, I was going to be inducted into the country music Hall of Fame. And I thought, what a great place to end it. So the night I was inducted, the next morning, I sat down. I wrote the ending. And I kind of backfilled where I was. And I had the book. And you asked me about the title.

The title -- if you're a young musician, if you're serious about it, and I was. You will play anywhere you can for anybody that's there for anything they'll give you. And you're going to see a lot of empty seats, because nobody knows who you are.

But if you please those people, you forget the empty seats. You concentrate on the ones -- you accentuate the positive, as the old song says. If you concentrate on them, the next time you go back to town, those people are going to say, hey, that guy is pretty good. Hey, let's go see him.

And they'll bring somebody with them. That's how you build a following. And I keep trying to tell these young guys this, you know. All the time.

When you walk on that stage, you give it the best you've got. If your dog died, if your girlfriend left you, whatever the heck happened, that's not the ticket price. They deserve a show. Go give them a show. So that's what the title is about.

GLENN: You -- my father was about your age. He's -- he would be probably 85 or 86 now if he were alive. And he said to me, you know, I've seen a lot of things in my life. Didn't expect that we would ever go to the moon, when I was growing up.

CHARLIE: Uh-huh.

GLENN: And he said, I'm glad my time is past because I -- I worry about how you're going to navigate the future.

Do you worry that?

CHARLIE: Well, I have a son. I only got one boy. He's 53 years old. And he's got a pretty good handle on it. Now, the grandkids, I don't know how they -- I would literally hate to grow up in a world nowadays. Because it's a world -- Glenn, I don't understand the world anymore. I don't understand how it works. I don't understand what motivates people.

I feel that a lot of people in this country either don't know or don't care where we came from and how we got here.

GLENN: Yeah.

CHARLIE: And the blood that was shed and the sacrifices that were made to get us where we are. And I'm an old World War II guy. I remember the day Pearl Harbor was bombed. My city that I came from, Wilmington, North Carolina, is a seaboard town. We had oil tankers and cargo boats that went across the ocean. You know, to service our troops. And there were some -- several of them, just off our beaches by German U-boats that were out there. So we took the war very seriously. And I learned -- and I say this on stage every night, two things protecting America is the grace of the Almighty God and the United States military. And --

GLENN: Charlie, I love you. Thank you so much.

CHARLIE: Love you too, my friend.

GLENN: The name of the book is Never Look at the Empty Seats. Well worth the price of admission. Charlie Daniels.

CHARLIE: Thank you.

The melting pot fails when we stop agreeing to melt

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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.

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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

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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.

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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?

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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.

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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

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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.