'American Sniper' co-author discusses the real Chris Kyle, criticism from Michael Moore

On radio today, 'American Sniper' co-author Jim DeFelice joined the radio show to talk about the incredible success of the 'American Sniper' movie, the Chris Kyle he knew, and the criticism coming from the progressive voices in Hollywood.

Below is a rough transcript of the segment:

GLENN: Jim DeFelice is the coauthor of the book. He wrote it with Chris Kyle. He is with us now.

Jim, how are you, sir?

JIM: I'm great, guys. And, you know, you guys can just keep going.

[laughter]

GLENN: First of all, in your wildest dreams, you or Chris when you were writing this that it would be this huge?

JIM: No way. No way. I remember one afternoon Chris and I we were a little tired from -- we kind of kicked back a bit. We were sitting around and having a couple of beers. So Chris asked me how I though the book would do. I knew it was a great story, and I knew that it would resonate. I hoped, I should say, that it would do well. You know, you don't know. He asked me would it sell a lot? And I said, I hope so. I think it's a great story.

He goes, well, if it sells a couple, I don't really care. I've done my part. Thanks a lot, dude. It's just been phenomenal.

GLENN: So, Jim, how do you -- I mean, how are you making sense of the -- of the vitriol that is coming out about this movie now from the left?

JIM: Here's the thing. There's been a lot of criticism really since the book was first published. The problem is -- listen, you know, we're American. I love the fact that people can say what they think. It's our privilege. And, you know, we live --

GLENN: And our responsibility.

JIM: And our responsibility. And I'm cool with it. You can say whatever you want. The only thing I would wish is that when you voice an opinion, I think it would be useful, you know, work with some facts. Read the book, for crying out loud. You know, most of the people who have problems with either the book or the movie, a lot of them haven't read the book. I can tell three words out of their mouth, and I can tell. You know, if you read the book and you've seen the movie or whatever, and you want to discuss it intellectually and intelligently, hey, listen, that's cool. That's fine. But please have some facts behind you. Or I'm not going to listen to you.

GLENN: Let's go off this. Page 324. In the end I was all right with being scheduled for another deployment, I still loved war. That's the kind of thing that they're seizing on.

PAT: The fact he said it was fun and he loved war. Can you clarify those?

JIM: Do you want a soldier who do not like what he does? I don't know. Do you live what you do? In my job, I love what I do. That's what gets me up in the morning every day. Listen --

GLENN: Everybody I've met that's good at their job. They don't love killing.

JIM: Right.

GLENN: I shouldn't say that. I do believe they love killing the bad guys. They don't mind killing the bad guys. And I don't think any of them take it lightly. As you watched the movie, I thought that Bradley Cooper did a really good job of showing, he was not into killing for killing. Every time he squeezed that trigger when he was not sure, it bother him deeply.

JIM: First of all, Bradley Cooper did a phenomenal job. The other thing I have to say, the rules of engagement were so tight. The requirements so strict. And, you know, Chris was always being -- you know, there was always somebody there. That's how we know the real number of the people he killed. He never had a doubt when he squeezed that trigger. He always knew that the guy that he was fighting was -- was a terrorist. Was either trying to kill him or trying to kill an Iraqi.

He actually -- the truth is that he was more protecting -- he was certainly protecting fellow Americans, but the bulk of the people that he was protecting over the course of those four deployments were Iraqis. You know, whether they were being attacked directly or they were IEDs going off or whatever. That was actually Chris' job.

If it weren't just for not just Chris, actually, you know, for all Americans who were there, the Iraqis would never have been able to form their government. They wouldn't have even been able to go to school or what have you. And you see what ISIS is doing now. Well, that's what -- a lot of those people, they're involved in ISIS, in Mosul and some of the other places, are actually the old, you know, [inaudible word] that the Americans had chased or quieted down. They've come back out of the woodwork.

GLENN: You know the scene where they're -- they're trying to get the guy, you know, who is drilling people. And they go in and they're across the street, you know, in the upstairs room with, you know -- with one of the bad guys. And they go across, and they're in this torture chamber. They come out and they're chasing the bad guys through a tunnel. And all of a sudden, you see this crowd of Iraqis carrying the dead in the street. Here's a torture chamber, of not Americans, but anybody who stands against these guys. There's a torture chamber, and these guys are standing in the streets and shouting down the Americans.

And Chris and everyone was just really cool said, let's go. This thing is falling apart. Let's go.

I will tell you that my visceral reaction in watching that was, shoot them. Kill them all. They're all animals. Shoot them all. I was impressed and I think anybody who was honest if you were into this movie, you were impressed that the American shoulders had so much restraint and they didn't just shoot them. After walking through a torture chamber and seeing what you saw, that just screws you up. Did you ever -- did you ever talk to him about the restraint that it took to not just at times see people as animals and not just shoot them?

JIM: Sure, absolutely. From Chris' perspective, that's what his training was all about. And, you know, the ROEs they're all about -- obviously, it's very difficult to make yourself a professional and to get into that role and say, well, okay, this is what I have to do. I don't necessarily like it, but I have to follow just these rules.

And listen, the SEALs that's why they're selected. They go through a process to find -- it's not just physical. They want to find the guys that can mentally do those things. We're talking about the evil in Iraq. And, look, people don't have to take my word for it or Chris Kyle's word for it. I happened to be very privileged to work with an Iraqi, you know, who worked with American forces as well as Iraqi forces. And can, you know, talk -- he lays out -- not everything, but some of the things that the terrorists, both Sunni and Shia were doing. "Code Name: Johnny Walker." You know, go to your library or even better, buy it, and find out when an Iraqi thinks of that war and thinks of Americans like Chris Kyle.

STU: It was amazing watching some of the reaction from people like Seth Rogen comparing the movie and the book to Nazi propaganda. First reaction to that.

JIM: You know -- I'll tell you something, if you don't know a lot about World War II and you don't know a lot about Nazi propaganda, I guess you can say anything you want.

GLENN: How about Michael Moore who said, you know, my uncle or somebody was killed by a sniper. And snipers are cowards.

JIM: First of all, I appreciate his uncle having fought in that war. Because of his uncle and many men like him you and I enjoy our freedoms today. So, you know, I thank Mr. Moore's uncle and the entire family. But, you know, snipers today, I think this is a common misunderstanding of what snipers did in Iraq.

You know, World War II unfortunately when we were trying to liberate France, Italy, Germany, a lot of countries, to get the enemy, we would blow up a building, you know, where there were some soldiers, and unfortunately blow up -- whole villages were wiped out and towns and parts of cities. That's no longer -- we don't want to do that. That's bad. We're killing innocent civilians. We're causing collateral damage. Even if we're not killing innocent people, we're destroying their buildings.

The whole idea of snipers, the thing they did in the Iraq war, is they were highly trained. Given precision weapons and equipment and very strict rules of engagement so that the people they were killing were only terrorists and insurgents who were trying to kill other Iraqis and trying to kill Americans.

So it's kind of ironic that people say, oh, this guy was, you know, whatever they say. When what he was really doing was trying to, you know, not harm civilians. But, you know, I guess you can say whatever you want if you don't have the facts.

STU: We're talking to Jim DeFelice. He was the coauthor of "American Sniper" with Chris Kyle.

And one of the things you did both -- in telling the story in the book and, of course, to the movie, that I thought was really impressive was the price that Chris and his family paid for what he did. He thought this was so vitally important to the country that he was willing on to pay the price of putting himself in an impossible situation, watching his best friends die and really ripping his family apart almost to the point where it couldn't be repaired.

JIM: Absolutely. And that's -- actually every veteran, everybody that serves in service is in the military, is giving, you know -- is giving you and me a blank check on their lives. But at the same time, they're also giving a blank check on the lives of their loved ones and their families.

And one of the things I think -- one of the reasons I think the people reacted to "American Sniper" the book and now the movie, so favorably is because we were able to talk about what Taya Kyle went through. A little bit about what the kids and the family went through. And getting her voice into "American Sniper" -- you know, if you want to and me what I'm most proud of in that book, was being able to do that because she's a remarkable woman.

As remarkable as she is, she is no different than the wives and mothers and the daughters of every service person that really is protecting our freedom today.

PAT: Jim, can you discuss a little bit the incident that Chris had with Jesse Ventura?

JIM: You know, that's the one thing I've been told not to talk about. The case is under appeal. Look, I was deposed for an entire day. Eight or nine hours, whatever it was. I testified for an hour. I'm on record a lot about it. There were a lot of guys who testified to it. At the end of the day, the jury does what the jury does.

PAT: It's an unbelievable decision.

STU: I will say, I was interested in the story. I love Chris Kyle. At least 20 percent of the reason I went to the movie was to piss off Jesse Ventura.

JIM: I will tell you one thing, whatever the differences were, Chris always honored Mr. Ventura's service. Whatever the circumstance, he was -- to the effect, you know, he did serve in the military. I'm proud of that. I honor that. Whatever else -- and I'm sure there was a lot of else in some of those sentences, but whatever else, that was still valuable to him. Still important to him, no matter who it was.

GLENN: So let me just ask one quick question. The thing that bothered me. I have someone on my team that is on my protective detail that served with Chris' brother. And he said, that was not Chris' brother.

JIM: Yeah, that's not Jeff. I don't know. I didn't write the screenplay. I wasn't on the set. You know, sometimes people have -- you know, they have to -- it's a movie. It's not real life. I can tell you, Jeff Kyle is -- change of circumstances in Jeff would be, you know, Chris. He's a great guy. He's a brave marine. He's a marine recon.

GLENN: He's not a guy who is --

PAT: Oh, he was in recon? I didn't -- wow. He was not presented as marine recon.

JIM: Jeff is so low-key. He's just under the radar. That's cool with him. That's who he is. He's really a hero in his own right.

GLENN: I thought it was important to correct the record here. If you saw the movie, that is not who he is.

JIM: Yeah. It's an actor. And they have roles they have to do.

GLENN: I know.

JIM: Cram a whole life in two hours, that's pretty hard.

GLENN: I know. Thank you so much for being there for Chris and writing this story and being a part of the true American history.

I was struck a couple of weeks ago when the president came out and spoke about the ESPN anchor that died. He came out and did a big deal about him, but has never said anything about an American hero, Chris Kyle. And I'm glad that the American people are now speaking in the sales of the books and in the movie, to show that we do honor him, his family, and the service of all those who fight for us. Thank you so much.

JIM: Oh, I am honored to be part of it.

GLENN: God bless you. Thanks a lot. We'll talk again.

Trump v. Slaughter: The Deep State on trial

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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.

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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'?

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

Why do Americans feel so empty?

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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.

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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.