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

November 14, 2016
Lori Hanes

Writer

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

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

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

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

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

So much for the skillet cornbread and campfire stew.

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

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

• Did Jeffy attend the Camporee with his son?

• Did Glenn schedule a CNN interview at the Camporee?

• What time did Glenn leave the campsite?

• Will Glenn ever camp again?

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

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

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

JEFFY: Did you?

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

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

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

JEFFY: I do.

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

PAT: It was at the Texas Speedway.

JEFFY: It's a camporee.

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

GLENN: No. No. Really?

PAT: Really.

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

PAT: Right. Largest in the 48 contiguous.

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

PAT: We've got wilderness.

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

PAT: Yes.

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

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

(laughter)

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

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

GLENN: And I-35.

PAT: Wow, that's bizarre.

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

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

STU: The convenience store.

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

STU: Yes, it's awesome.

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

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

STU: It's unbelievable.

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

GLENN: Yes.

STU: Still in part of this massive city.

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

PAT: Yeah.

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

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

JEFFY: Because there's space.

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

JEFFY: It's a camporee.

PAT: 6,000.

JEFFY: Yeah.

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

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

GLENN: I know. I guarantee you --

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

PAT: Yes, we do.

JEFFY: We do not.

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

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

JEFFY: This is a camporee.

PAT: Well, we've had that.

JEFFY: Not a jamboree.

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

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

PAT: Oh, I bet.

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

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

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

PAT: Wow.

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

JEFFY: Right.

PAT: Come on.

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

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

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

JEFFY: Nobody knew you were there.

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

PAT: Oh, my gosh.

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

(laughter)

It was nuts.

PAT: I bet they were mad.

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

PAT: Uh-huh.

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

STU: Like dumplings?

GLENN: Yeah, potstickers.

STU: Right.

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

(chuckling)

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

JEFFY: You wrap them in foil, right?

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

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

JEFFY: They have a grill.

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

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

GLENN: Yeah. The Coleman gas grills.

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

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

GLENN: No, he did it.

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

(laughter)

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

PAT: That's the greatest.

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

(laughter)

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

GLENN: No.

PAT: You just left?

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

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

You're, what?

"I'm just dropping him off."

You're not staying?

"At the Motor Speedway?"

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

Then -- then as I'm --

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

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

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

GLENN: Right. So I stood around all night.

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

GLENN: Why be there?

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

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

PAT: Definitely with you.

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

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

GLENN: Right.

STU: We're never camping again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

GLENN: I'm 17 years old.

STU: Okay.

GLENN: So we pitch the tent.

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

(chuckling)

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

JEFFY: Even then.

GLENN: Even then.

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

GLENN: No.

JEFFY: As --

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

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

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

PAT: Uh-huh.

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

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

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

JEFFY: Yeah.

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

PAT: There's no question about that.

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

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

(chuckling)

GLENN: Can you imagine --

PAT: Now we have nice places to rest.

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

PAT: Yeah.

(chuckling)

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

(chuckling)

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

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

Why do Americans feel so empty?

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.

A break in trust: A NEW Watergate is brewing in plain sight

Gary Hershorn / Contributor | Getty Images

When institutions betray the public’s trust, the country splits, and the spiral is hard to stop.

Something drastic is happening in American life. Headlines that should leave us stunned barely register anymore. Stories that once would have united the country instead dissolve into silence or shrugs.

It is not apathy exactly. It is something deeper — a growing belief that the people in charge either cannot or will not fix what is broken.

When people feel ignored or betrayed, they will align with anyone who appears willing to fight on their behalf.

I call this response the Bubba effect. It describes what happens when institutions lose so much public trust that “Bubba,” the average American minding his own business, finally throws his hands up and says, “Fine. I will handle it myself.” Not because he wants to, but because the system that was supposed to protect him now feels indifferent, corrupt, or openly hostile.

The Bubba effect is not a political movement. It is a survival instinct.

What triggers the Bubba effect

We are watching the triggers unfold in real time. When members of Congress publicly encourage active duty troops to disregard orders from the commander in chief, that is not a political squabble. When a federal judge quietly rewrites the rules so one branch of government can secretly surveil another, that is not normal. That is how republics fall. Yet these stories glided across the news cycle without urgency, without consequence, without explanation.

When the American people see the leadership class shrug, they conclude — correctly — that no one is steering the ship.

This is how the Bubba effect spreads. It is not just individuals resisting authority. It is sheriffs refusing to enforce new policies, school boards ignoring state mandates, entire communities saying, “We do not believe you anymore.” It becomes institutional, cultural, national.

A country cracking from the inside

This effect can be seen in Dearborn, Michigan. In the rise of fringe voices like Nick Fuentes. In the Epstein scandal, where powerful people could not seem to locate a single accountable adult. These stories are different in content but identical in message: The system protects itself, not you.

When people feel ignored or betrayed, they will align with anyone who appears willing to fight on their behalf. That does not mean they suddenly agree with everything that person says. It means they feel abandoned by the institutions that were supposed to be trustworthy.

The Bubba effect is what fills that vacuum.

The dangers of a faithless system

A republic cannot survive without credibility. Congress cannot oversee intelligence agencies if it refuses to discipline its own members. The military cannot remain apolitical if its chain of command becomes optional. The judiciary cannot defend the Constitution while inventing loopholes that erase the separation of powers.

History shows that once a nation militarizes politics, normalizes constitutional shortcuts, or allows government agencies to operate without scrutiny, it does not return to equilibrium peacefully. Something will give.

The question is what — and when.

The responsibility now belongs to us

In a healthy country, this is where the media steps in. This is where universities, pastors, journalists, and cultural leaders pause the outrage machine and explain what is at stake. But today, too many see themselves not as guardians of the republic, but of ideology. Their first loyalty is to narrative, not truth.

The founders never trusted the press more than the public. They trusted citizens who understood their rights, lived their responsibilities, and demanded accountability. That is the antidote to the Bubba effect — not rage, but citizenship.

How to respond without breaking ourselves

Do not riot. Do not withdraw. Do not cheer on destruction just because you dislike the target. That is how nations lose themselves. Instead, demand transparency. Call your representatives. Insist on consequences. Refuse to normalize constitutional violations simply because “everyone does it.” If you expect nothing, you will get nothing.

Do not hand your voice to the loudest warrior simply because he is swinging a bat at the establishment. You do not beat corruption by joining a different version of it. You beat it by modeling the country you want to preserve: principled, accountable, rooted in truth.

Adam Gray / Stringer | Getty Images

Every republic reaches a moment when historians will later say, “That was the warning.” We are living in ours. But warnings are gifts if they are recognized. Institutions bend. People fail. The Constitution can recover — if enough Americans still know and cherish it.

It does not take a majority. Twenty percent of the country — awake, educated, and courageous — can reset the system. It has happened before. It can happen again.

Wake up. Stand up. Demand integrity — from leaders, from institutions, and from yourself. Because the Bubba effect will not end until Americans reclaim the duty that has always belonged to them: preserving the republic for the next generation.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

Warning: Stop letting TikTok activists think for you

Spencer Platt / Staff | Getty Images

Bad-faith attacks on Israel and AIPAC warp every debate. Real answers emerge only when people set aside scripts and ask what serves America’s long-term interests.

The search for truth has always required something very much in short supply these days: honesty. Not performative questions, not scripted outrage, not whatever happens to be trending on TikTok, but real curiosity.

Some issues, often focused on foreign aid, AIPAC, or Israel, have become hotbeds of debate and disagreement. Before we jump into those debates, however, we must return to a simpler, more important issue: honest questioning. Without it, nothing in these debates matters.

Ask questions because you want the truth, not because you want a target.

The phrase “just asking questions” has re-entered the zeitgeist, and that’s fine. We should always question power. But too many of those questions feel preloaded with someone else’s answer. If the goal is truth, then the questions should come from a sincere desire to understand, not from a hunt for a villain.

Honest desire for truth is the only foundation that can support a real conversation about these issues.

Truth-seeking is real work

Right now, plenty of people are not seeking the truth at all. They are repeating something they heard from a politician on cable news or from a stranger on TikTok who has never opened a history book. That is not a search for answers. That is simply outsourcing your own thought.

If you want the truth, you need to work for it. You cannot treat the world like a Marvel movie where the good guy appears in a cape and the villain hisses on command. Real life does not give you a neat script with the moral wrapped up in two hours.

But that is how people are approaching politics now. They want the oppressed and the oppressor, the heroic underdog and the cartoon villain. They embrace this fantastical framing because it is easier than wrestling with reality.

This framing took root in the 1960s when the left rebuilt its worldview around colonizers and the colonized. Overnight, Zionism was recast as imperialism. Suddenly, every conflict had to fit the same script. Today’s young activists are just recycling the same narrative with updated graphics. Everything becomes a morality play. No nuance, no context, just the comforting clarity of heroes and villains.

Bad-faith questions

This same mindset is fueling the sudden obsession with Israel, and the American Israel Public Affairs Committee in particular. You hear it from members of Congress and activists alike: AIPAC pulls the strings, AIPAC controls the government, AIPAC should register as a foreign agent under the Foreign Agents Registration Act. The questions are dramatic, but are they being asked in good faith?

FARA is clear. The standard is whether an individual or group acts under the direction or control of a foreign government. AIPAC simply does not qualify.

Here is a detail conveniently left out of these arguments: Dozens of domestic organizations — Armenian, Cuban, Irish, Turkish — lobby Congress on behalf of other countries. None of them registers under FARA because — like AIPAC — they are independent, domestic organizations.

If someone has a sincere problem with the structure of foreign lobbying, fair enough. Let us have that conversation. But singling out AIPAC alone is not a search for truth. It is bias dressed up as bravery.

Anadolu / Contributor | Getty Images

If someone wants to question foreign aid to Israel, fine. Let’s have that debate. But let’s ask the right questions. The issue is not the size of the package but whether the aid advances our interests. What does the United States gain? Does the investment strengthen our position in the region? How does it compare to what we give other nations? And do we examine those countries with the same intensity?

The real target

These questions reflect good-faith scrutiny. But narrowing the entire argument to one country or one dollar amount misses the larger problem. If someone objects to the way America handles foreign aid, the target is not Israel. The target is the system itself — an entrenched bureaucracy, poor transparency, and decades-old commitments that have never been re-examined. Those problems run through programs around the world.

If you want answers, you need to broaden the lens. You have to be willing to put aside the movie script and confront reality. You have to hold yourself to a simple rule: Ask questions because you want the truth, not because you want a target.

That is the only way this country ever gets clarity on foreign aid, influence, alliances, and our place in the world. Questioning is not just allowed. It is essential. But only if it is honest.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

A nation unravels when its shared culture is the first thing to go

Spencer Platt / Staff | Getty Images

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Parallel societies do not end well

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

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

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

A crisis of confidence

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

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

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

Brandon Bell / Staff | Getty Images

Stand up and tell the truth

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

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

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

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

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

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

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.