U.S. Submarine and Iranian Warship Incident
Picture an Iranian warship peacefully navigating the Indian Ocean when suddenly, an aggressive American submarine surfaces and launches torpedoes for seemingly no reason. That’s the interpretation I heard from a professor recently. He suggests that the U.S. isn’t just mistaken but embodies the role of a cartoonish villain, always playing the bully.
Some claim that President Trump’s stance on Iran can only be understood through the lens of domestic political unrest—specifically, a possible attempt to divert attention from the Epstein scandal. The logic here is a bit perplexing. Trump once speculated that Barack Obama might attack Iran to distract from political issues, leading to the absurd conclusion that he’s doing exactly that.
The pattern seems to repeat itself. Earlier this year, a small group of progressive religious thinkers took to social media to denounce ICE based on misleading reports. They asserted that American Christians should open their borders to all as a demonstration of neighborly love. However, the biblical passages they reference imply a call for conversion, and the discussion swiftly drifts from politics to an outright disrespect for Christian doctrine.
My social feeds have been filled with progressive thinkers echoing Democratic narratives. One notable instance was philosopher Eleonore Stamp sharing a deceptive story about an ICE shooting, apparently without verifying its authenticity, resulting in what many now term “suicide empathy.”
It would almost be funny if it weren’t so troubling.
Anti-American Sentiment in Academia
So, why do so many American professors seem to harbor anti-American sentiments?
These educators often thrive in environments where they are compensated well for espousing Marxist progressive ideas. They benefit from strong constitutional protections around speech and scholarship and enjoy the freedom to conjure theories that would probably be dismissed in a sensible corporate setting.
Yet, they express disdain for their own country.
The late philosopher Roger Scruton devised a term for this mindset: “oikophobia”—essentially, fear and loathing of one’s homeland.
A glance at faculty social media, particularly within humanities circles, reveals a consistent theme. They tend to believe that while almost every other country can do no wrong, the United States is perpetually in the wrong.
The Helplessness Conundrum
These professors often voice sorrow over Venezuela’s tyrannical leadership being ousted by the “bullying” U.S. If they accept this ruler as a despot, they pivot to a new argument: should we remove all tyrants globally?
This poses a moral dilemma, suggesting that since it’s impossible to eliminate evil everywhere, perhaps we should not intervene at all.
Interestingly, this view pops up primarily when actions are taken by the U.S. or other conservative governments. In their personal lives, these academics often advocate for gradual change, emphasizing that we shouldn’t allow the perfect to obstruct the good.
But when figures like Donald Trump are involved, this logical reasoning seems to dissipate under the weight of oikophobia.
Trump Derangement Syndrome
Recently, James Carville, a political science professor at Tulane and advisor to foreign governments, made headlines for invoking God in less-than-unifying ways. He openly expressed his disdain for Trump and even wished he could hate him more.
This sentiment transcends mere partisan bias; it reflects a descent into irrationality that can be seen as a breach of moral integrity.
Such attitudes have become commonplace in political science and humanities fields, resembling a surrender of intellectual rigor, akin to what the Apostle Paul described in Romans as yielding to a “depraved heart.”
When scholars abandon critical thinking, it doesn’t just affect their peer circles—it ripples through institutions, student bodies, culture, and policy.
Taxpayer Funding Concerns
What’s particularly bizarre is that we continue to pay these individuals—often using taxpayer dollars.
Even professors at private institutions can hire as they please, yet many of the loudest criticisms emerge from public universities funded by taxpayers.
Americans have largely tolerated this state of affairs, valuing the First Amendment and the notion that we should allow a spectrum of viewpoints, no matter how foolish or offensive.
However, it’s essential to recognize that the First Amendment doesn’t obligate the public to finance every controversial opinion.
From Oikophobia to Self-Hatred
Oikophobia often goes hand in hand with a deeper phenomenon—self-loathing.
Professors who detest their homeland may also scorn the civilization that nurtured it, ultimately culminating in self-contempt. This attitude permeates their teaching, as young people are encouraged to reject their identity and even alter themselves drastically in the pursuit of a self-willed existence.
A society that teaches its youth to despise themselves is unlikely to thrive.
A Post-Christian Culture?
Spend enough time around these educators, and an interesting trend emerges. Many hail from Christian backgrounds but have since dismissed those beliefs.
Sometimes, they refer to Jesus as just another teacher, while other times they reject him entirely. This rejection isn’t insignificant; it often breeds lingering hostility.
These professors seem to prefer an America that has shed its Christian roots, one that supports a morally neutral global narrative where Western civilization is constantly scrutinized, while other cultures are granted a default innocence.
In their worldview, Americans struggle to do anything right, just as Christians fail in their missions.
Meanwhile, nearly any alternative—regardless of how peculiar or controversial—receives a warm reception. Their only unwavering doctrine is, “Who are you to judge?”
I recall a professor who transitioned from a conservative Baptist upbringing to what she proudly deemed “hedonistic atheism.” She recounted, with enthusiasm, her experience consuming hallucinogenic mushrooms during a shamanic ritual to, as she claimed, unlock perceptions of other dimensions.
Christianity? Dismissed. Magic mushrooms with a shaman? Enlightenment.
A Possible Resolution
Future historians may one day look back at this time in bewilderment, questioning how a thriving civilization chose to sustain an intellectual class dedicated to condemning it.
Has history seen something like this before?
Perhaps.
However, most civilizations eventually reach a straightforward conclusion: they stop funding such perspectives.
