How Silicon Valley’s Corrupted Libertarianism Is Dismantling American Democracy
Donald Trump is a vehicle for Musk and Thiel to implement their radical ideas of replacing accountable governance with an unaccountable techno-monarchy
Dear Readers:
Donald Trump has no ideology or convictions besides a desire to look like a winner. He is guided by nothing other than his own id. America First is really, at root, Trump First. But politics, like nature, abhors a vacuum and the ideological void that is Trumpism is being filled by a whole host of emergent, post-liberal, right-wing ideologies. Indeed, literally every strain of the right—traditionalists, religious leaders, constitutionalists, libertarians—has generated its own version of post-liberalism that seeks to use Trump to advance its goals that are in each case the opposite of what the original ideology stood for.
Two years ago, I had identified four of these strains in my essay, A Typology of the New Right. I had somewhat inelegantly dubbed them: The Flight 93ers; Catholic Integralists (along with other Christian factions); National Conservatives, and Red Pilled Anarcho Bros.
We can’t defeat these ideologies if we don’t understand them. Hence, The UnPopulist has been providing in-depth analysis and commentary about each of them. Just last weekend, we ran the second installment of our FAQ on the Far-Right, a comprehensive guide about the motives, methods, and ideas animating far-right groups. The guide was prepared by the erudite and principled classical liberals, Janet Bufton and Tom Palmer. Also recently, Berny Belvedere interviewed Christianity Today Editor-in-Chief Russell Moore about the rise of Christian Nationalism among evangelicals. We have also published essays and podcasts on integralism, the movement of Catholic intellectuals that seeks to “integrate” church and state.
Today, we turn to the Red Pilled Anarcho Bros who inhabit Silicon Valley. Many of them, including Elon Musk and Peter Thiel, have been deeply influenced by a reactionary libertarianism espoused by Curtis Yarvin.
What are the ideas, ideologies, and motives animating this reactionary libertarianism that seeks to delete liberal democracy and replace it with its opposite? Mike Brock, an industry insider who helped build Cash App among other ventures, unpacks this worldview in a long but engrossing essay that he penned for his own Substack, Notes From the Circus. We present to you an edited version below. He has been marinating in this worldview at the highest echelons for over a decade and intimately understands its intellectual genealogy, extreme faith in technology, and terrifying, illiberal, futuristic vision for America and the world.
If you want to understand what Musk and his fellow tech bros are up to, this is a must read.
On a personal note, I myself inhabited the libertarian intellectual world for three decades and broke with it because, in my view, it was not facing the Trumpist threat seriously, as I wrote here. The influence of these techno-ideologies that worship disruption of any kind, even by an authoritarian, is no doubt one reason.
Editor-in-Chief
Shikha Dalmia
A shadow revolution is unfolding within the U.S. government. Inside Elon Musk’s DOGE, teams of young tech operatives are systematically dismantling democratic institutions and replacing them with proprietary artificial intelligence systems. Civil servants who raise legal objections are being removed. Government databases are being migrated to private servers. Decision-making power is being transferred from elected officials and career bureaucrats to algorithms controlled by a small network of Silicon Valley elites. In short, democracy is being deleted and replaced by AI models and proprietary technology—Musk's claims about transparent, open-source governance notwithstanding. It is a coup, executed not with guns but with backend migrations and database wipes.
This coup, however, isn’t a spontaneous one—it’s the culmination of a dangerous ideology that has been meticulously developed since the 2008 financial crisis and worked its way from the fringes of tech culture to the heart of American governance. And it has been driven by the idea that democracy, being not just inefficient but fundamentally incompatible with technological progress, is itself an obsolete technology that must be “disrupted.”
Never Let a Financial Crisis Go to Waste
The 2008 global financial crisis led to widespread economic hardship and a profound loss of faith in established institutions. As the crisis unfolded, several key figures emerged who would go on to shape a new movement in American politics.
Curtis Yarvin, writing under the pseudonym Mencius Moldbug, had been developing a critique of modern democracy on his blog Unqualified Reservations since 2007. In a post the following year, Yarvin argued that the financial crisis was fundamentally an engineering failure caused by a deviation from what he called “Misesian banking,” based on principles outlined by economist Ludwig von Mises. Mises, a pioneer of the Austrian School of Economics, was a thorough-going classical liberal who believed in free markets unencumbered by fiat currency and a constitutionally constrained government. He was also an outspoken critic of European imperialism.
But Yarvin contrasted what he considered the Misean approach to free banking with the prevailing “Bagehotian” system, named after Walter Bagehot, which supports central bank intervention during financial crises. Yarvin argued that this interventionist approach was inherently unstable and prone to collapse. Yarvin’s broader critique of modern political and economic systems began to resonate with a growing audience disillusioned with traditional institutions.
The Rise of the Reactionary Libertarian
For decades, libertarian thinkers had argued that free markets, left unrestrained, would naturally outperform any system of government. But what if the problem wasn’t just government interference in markets? What if the very concept of democracy itself was flawed? This was the argument put forward by Hans-Hermann Hoppe, a student of Mises’s protégé Murray Rothbard, who took libertarian skepticism of the state to its extreme conclusion. Hoppe’s 2001 book, Democracy: The God That Failed, landed like a bombshell in libertarian circles. Published at a moment when many Americans still saw democracy as the “end of history,” Hoppe argued that democracy was an inherently unstable system, one that incentivized short-term decision-making and mob rule rather than rational governance. His alternative? A return to monarchy. Hoppe was banished from respectable U.S. libertarian circles when he started flirting with fascist ideas and Rothbard has fallen in some disrepute although he remains a beloved of the paleo, Ron Paul libertarian faction.
But this wasn’t the monarchy of old. Hoppe envisioned a new order—one where governance was privatized, where societies functioned as “covenant communities” owned and operated by property-holders rather than elected officials. In this world, citizenship was a matter of contract, not birthright. Voting was unnecessary. Rule was left to those with the most capital at stake. It was libertarian thought taken to its most extreme conclusion: a society governed not by political equality, but by property rights alone.
By the 2010s, Hoppe’s radical skepticism of democracy had found an eager audience beyond the usual libertarian circles, but through a mechanism different from simple market disruption. While Silicon Valley had long embraced Clayton Christensen’s theory of disruptive innovation—where nimbler companies could outcompete established players by serving overlooked markets—a more extreme form of techno-solutionism had begun to take hold. This mindset held that any societal problem, including governance itself, could be “solved” through sufficient application of engineering principles. Silicon Valley elites who had built successful companies began to view democratic processes not just as inefficient, but as fundamentally irrational—the product of what they saw as emotional decision-making by non-technical people. This merged perfectly with Hoppe’s critique: if democracy was simply a collection of “feeling-based” choices made by the uninformed masses, surely it could be replaced by something more “rational”—specifically, the kind of data-driven, engineering-focused governance that these tech leaders practiced in their own companies. So Hoppe’s corporate monarchy morphed into Silicon Valley’s corporate techno-monarchy.
Peter Thiel, one of the most outspoken erstwhile libertarians in Silicon Valley, put this sentiment in stark terms in his 2009 essay, “The Education of a Libertarian”: “I no longer believe that freedom and democracy are compatible.” Thiel, who declared after Trump’s reelection that the 2020 election was a “last stand for the ancién regime that is liberalism,” had already begun funding projects aimed at escaping democratic nation-states entirely, including seasteading—floating cities in international waters beyond government control—and experimental governance models that would replace electoral democracy with private, corporate-style rule. Hoppe’s vision of covenant communities—private enclaves owned and governed by elites—provided an intellectual justification for what Thiel and his allies were trying to build: not just alternatives to specific government policies, but complete replacements for democratic governance itself. If democracy is too inefficient to keep up with technological change, why not replace it entirely with private, contractual forms of rule?
The notion that traditional democratic governance was inefficient or outdated resonated with those who saw themselves as disruptors and innovators. This intellectual throughline—from Mises to Hoppe to figures like Yarvin and Thiel—helps explain the emergence of “techno-libertarianism.” It represents a dangerous alignment of anti-democratic thought with immense technological and financial resources, posing significant challenges to traditional conceptions of democratic governance and civic responsibility.
After 2008, a new belief took hold in Silicon Valley: democracy wasn’t just inefficient—it was obsolete. Over the decade that followed, the ideas incubated in this period would evolve into a coherent challenge to the foundations of liberal democracy, backed by some of the most powerful figures in technology and finance.
From Silicon Valley to Main Street: The Spread of Techno-Libertarian Ideas
The Tea Party movement emerged in 2009, channeling populist anger against the Obama administration’s response to the crisis, especially government bailouts. As that movement gained momentum, it fostered a broader cultural shift that primed many Americans to be receptive to alternative political and economic theories. This shift extended beyond traditional conservatism, creating an opening for the tech-libertarian ideas emerging from Silicon Valley. The movement’s emphasis on individual liberty and skepticism of centralized authority resonated with the anti-government sentiment growing in tech circles. As a result, concepts like cryptocurrency and decentralized governance, once considered fringe, began to find a more mainstream audience among those disillusioned with traditional political and financial systems.
The convergence of populist anger and techno-utopianism set the stage for more radical anti-democratic ideas that would emerge in the following years. The tech industry’s growing influence gradually became more pronounced in the 2010s as leaders like Thiel began to more actively engage in political discourse and intellectual funding.
The financial crisis didn’t just create political movements like the Tea Party—it spawned entirely new media platforms that would help spread these anti-democratic ideas far beyond their original circles. One of the most influential was Zero Hedge, founded in 2009 by Daniel Ivandjiiski. The site, which adopted the pseudonym “Tyler Durden” for all its authors—a reference to the anti-establishment character from Fight Club—initially focused on financial news and analysis from a bearish perspective rooted in Austrian economics.
Zero Hedge’s evolution from a financial blog to a political powerhouse exemplified how anti-democratic ideas could be laundered through technical expertise—just as Joe Rogan and other sports and entertainment influencers have shown how democracy-destroying crankery and conspiracies can be laundered for their non-techie listeners on their platforms. The site gained initial credibility through sophisticated critiques of high-frequency trading and market structure, establishing itself as a legitimate voice in financial circles. But this technical authority became a vehicle for something more radical: the idea that democratic institutions themselves were as broken as the markets they regulated. When the site argued that central banks were rigging markets, it wasn’t just making a financial claim—it was suggesting that democratic institutions themselves were inherently corrupt and needed not to be reformed but replaced with more “efficient” mechanisms. When it declared that markets were manipulated, it wasn’t just criticizing policy—it was building the case that democracy itself was a failed system that needed to be replaced by technical, algorithmic governance.
This methodology—using technical financial analysis to justify increasingly radical political conclusions—provided a blueprint that others would follow. But the site’s true innovation wasn’t just in mixing finance and politics—it was in suggesting that technical, market-based solutions could replace democratic processes entirely. This aligned perfectly with Silicon Valley’s emerging worldview: if markets were more efficient than governments at allocating resources, why not let them allocate political power as well? Zero Hedge’s transformation from financial analysis to anti-democratic ideology previewed a broader pattern that would define the next decade: how technical expertise could be weaponized against democracy itself.
As media scholar Yochai Benkler noted, this period saw the emergence of a “propaganda feedback loop,” where audiences, media outlets, and political elites reinforce each other’s views, regardless of the veracity of the information. Zero Hedge was an early example of this dynamic in action, demonstrating how traditional gatekeepers of information were losing their influence. This erosion of trust in established institutions, combined with the proliferation of alternative information sources, set the stage for what social psychologist Jonathan Haidt described as “a kind of fragmentation of reality.”
As we moved into the 2010s, this fragmentation accelerated. Social media algorithms, designed to maximize engagement, amplified sensational and divisive content. The resulting flood of competing narratives made it increasingly difficult for citizens to discern truth from fiction, with profound implications for democratic discourse and decision-making. The Zero Hedge model—mixing expert analysis with speculative political commentary—became a template for numerous other outlets, contributing to insular information ecosystems where narrative consistency trumped factual accuracy. This presaged how information would be produced, consumed, and weaponized in the age of social media and algorithmic content distribution.
Zero Hedge led the way in demonstrating how technical expertise could be used to delegitimize democratic institutions from within and argue that democracy’s replacement by technical systems wasn’t just desirable—it was inevitable.
This epistemic chaos fostered by algorithmic fragmentation wasn’t an accident—it was a crucial tactic in undermining democracy itself. As Yarvin and his neoreactionary allies saw it, political legitimacy depended on the existence of a shared reality. Break that consensus, and democracy becomes impossible. Steve Bannon called it “flooding the zone with shit.” And by the time Trump entered office, the full strategy was in motion: destabilize public trust, replace expert analysis with endless counter-narratives, and ensure that the only people who could wield power were those who controlled the flow of information itself.
Figures like Yarvin didn’t just critique democracy—they sought to undermine the very conditions in which democratic deliberation is possible. By weaponizing media fragmentation, they hacked the cognitive foundations of democracy itself, ensuring that political power would no longer rest on reasoned debate but on the ability to manipulate information flows.
The Sovereign Individual: From End of History to End of Politics
But destroying consensus was only the first step. The true revolution would come through technology itself. In 1999, James Dale Davidson and William Rees-Mogg published a book that would become the blueprint for this technological coup: The Sovereign Individual. Released at the height of the dotcom boom, the book read like science fiction to many at the time: it predicted the rise of cryptocurrency, the decline of traditional nation-states, and the emergence of a new digital aristocracy.
Libertarianism, when fused with this kind of technological determinism, took a sharp turn away from its classical liberal origins. If you assume that government will inevitably be outcompeted by private networks, decentralized finance, and AI-driven governance, then trying to reform democracy becomes pointless. The more radical conclusion, embraced by the figures at the forefront of this movement, is that government should be actively dismantled and replaced with a more “efficient” form of rule—one modeled on corporate governance rather than democratic participation.
This is precisely where libertarianism morphs into neoreaction. Instead of advocating for a constitutional republic with minimal government, this new strain of thought pushes for a private, post-democratic order, where those with the most resources and technological control dictate the rules. In this vision, power doesn’t rest with the people—it belongs to the most competent “executives” running society like a CEO would run a company.
This is how Yarvin’s argument that democracy is an outdated, inefficient system became so appealing to Silicon Valley elites. It wasn’t just a philosophical argument; it aligned with the way many in the tech industry already thought about disruption, efficiency, and control. If innovation constantly renders old systems obsolete, then why should governance be any different?
Figures like Thiel and Balaji Srinivasan, a Silicon Valley tycoon who made his fortune through bio-genetics and crypto currency startups and who authored, The Network State: How To Start a New Country, took this logic a step further. They argued that rather than resisting the decline of democratic institutions, elites should accelerate the transition to a new order, one where governance is voluntary, privatized, and—this is crucial—largely detached from public accountability.
This mindset is deeply ingrained in Silicon Valley, where disruption is seen as not just a business model, but a law of history. Entrepreneurs are taught that old institutions are inefficient relics waiting to be displaced by something better. When applied to government, this logic leads directly to Yarvin’s argument: democracy is outdated “legacy code” that can’t keep up with modern complexity. The future, he and others argue, will belong to those who design and implement a superior system—one that runs more like a corporation, where leaders are chosen based on competence rather than elections.
This is why neoreactionary ideas have found such a receptive audience among tech elites. If you believe that technology inevitably renders old systems obsolete, then why should democracy be any different? Why bother fixing the government if it’s doomed to be replaced by something more advanced?
Classical liberal libertarians accept democracy, arguing that markets should exist within a limited but functioning democratic system. But the Silicon Valley version of libertarianism, shaped by The Sovereign Individual and reinforced by the rise of cryptocurrency, started to see democratic governance itself as an obstacle. The rhetoric of “exit” and “network states” became the libertarian justification for abandoning democracy altogether. This wasn’t just theoretical—there were actual attempts to implement these ideas, like the Thiel-backed “network state” project called Praxis (a Misean term) in Greenland. The question, then, was no longer “How do we make government smaller or improve its performance?” but rather “How do we escape government altogether?”
The answer, for people like Yarvin, Thiel, and Srinivasan, was to replace democracy with a new system—one where power belongs to those with the resources to exit and build something better. And as we are now seeing, they aren’t waiting for that transition to happen naturally.
Srinivasan, like others in this movement, had undergone an ideological evolution that exemplifies a broader trend in Silicon Valley. As a former CTO of Coinbase and general partner at Andreessen Horowitz, he initially approached cryptocurrency from a techno-libertarian perspective, viewing it as a tool for individual empowerment and market efficiency. However, his thinking increasingly aligned with neoreactionary ideas, particularly around the concept of “exit”—the ability to opt out of existing political structures entirely. This shift from techno-libertarianism to neoreactionary thought isn’t as large a leap as it might seem. Both ideologies share a deep skepticism of centralized authority and a belief in the power of technology to reshape society.
The pipeline from techno-libertarianism to neoreaction often follows a predictable path. It begins with a libertarian critique of government inefficiency and overreach. This evolves into a broader skepticism of all democratic institutions, seen as slow and irrational compared to the speed and logic of technology. Eventually, this leads to the conclusion that democracy itself is an outdated system, incompatible with rapid technological progress. The final step is embracing the idea that democracy should be replaced entirely with more “efficient” forms of governance, often modeled on corporate structures or technological systems.
James Pogue’s remarkable Vanity Fair piece, “Inside the New Right, Where Peter Thiel Is Placing His Biggest Bets,” traces how these fringe ideas became a sophisticated political movement backed by some of the most powerful figures in technology. Reporting from the 2022 National Conservatism Conference in Orlando, Pogue encounters everyone from “fusty paleocon professors” to mainstream Republican senators, but his focus on the younger cohort is particularly illuminating. They are highly educated young elites who have absorbed Yarvin’s critique of democracy and are working to make it political reality.
Pogue details how Yarvin’s writings during the crisis period didn’t just diagnose economic problems—they offered a comprehensive critique of what he called “the Cathedral,” an interlocking system of media, academia, and bureaucracy that he argued maintained ideological control while masking its own power. The fusion of Austrian economics, techno-libertarianism, and Yarvin’s critique of democracy found its perfect vehicle in cryptocurrency and blockchain technology. Srinivasan emerged as a key figure who helped translate these abstract ideas into a concrete vision. Cryptocurrency offered not just a way to circumvent state monetary control, but also a model for how digital technology could enable new forms of sovereignty.
As Pogue documents, figures like Thiel began to see cryptocurrency not just as a new financial instrument, but as a tool for fundamentally restructuring society. If traditional democracy was hopelessly corrupt, as Yarvin argued, then perhaps blockchain could enable new forms of governance built on immutable code rather than fallible human judgment. This vision found its perfect technological expression in Bitcoin. Launched in the aftermath of the 2008 crisis by an anonymous creator using the pseudonym Satoshi Nakamoto, Bitcoin seemed to validate The Sovereign Individual’s core thesis—that technology could enable individuals to opt out of state monetary control. The timing was perfect: just as faith in traditional financial institutions had been shattered, here was a system that promised to replace human judgment with mathematical certainty.
Cryptocurrency as Subversion
Bitcoin’s philosophical underpinnings drew heavily from Austrian economics and libertarian thought, but it was Saifedean Ammous who most explicitly merged these ideas with reactionary politics in his 2018 book, The Bitcoin Standard. What began as an economic argument for Bitcoin based on Austrian monetary theory evolved into something far more radical in its later chapters. Particularly telling was Ammous’s critique of modern art and architecture, which mirrors almost precisely the fascist aesthetic theory of the early 20th century. When he rails against “degenerate” modern art and architecture in favor of classical forms, he’s invoking—whether intentionally or not—the exact language and arguments used by fascists in the 1930s.
The Bitcoin community’s embrace of figures like Ammous reveals how cryptocurrency became not just a technology or an investment, but a vehicle for reactionary political thought. The idea that Bitcoin would restore some lost golden age of sound money merged seamlessly with broader reactionary narratives about societal decline and the need for restoration of traditional hierarchies.
While figures like Ammous attempted to claim Bitcoin for a reactionary worldview, the technology itself—as Bailey, Rettler, and their co-authors argue in Resistance Money—can equally serve liberal and democratic values. The key distinction lies in how we understand Bitcoin’s relationship to political institutions. Where reactionaries see Bitcoin as a tool for replacing democratic governance entirely, the liberal perspective presented in Resistance Money understands it as a check against overreach and a means of preserving individual autonomy within democratic systems. This frames Bitcoin not as a replacement for democratic institutions, but as a technological innovation that can help protect civil liberties and human rights—particularly in contexts where traditional financial systems are used as tools of surveillance or oppression.
This tension between reactionary and liberal interpretations of Bitcoin reflects a broader pattern we’ve seen throughout our narrative: technological innovations that could enhance human freedom being co-opted into anti-democratic frameworks. Just as Yarvin and others attempted to claim the entire trajectory of technological development as inevitably leading to the dissolution of democracy, figures like Ammous tried to present Bitcoin’s monetary properties as necessarily implying a broader reactionary worldview.
Implementing Fringe Anti-Democratic Ideas
From Yarvin’s early writings during the financial crisis to today’s constitutional crisis, we can trace a clear intellectual evolution. What began as abstract criticism of democratic institutions has become a concrete blueprint for dismantling them. But the key accelerant in this process was cryptocurrency—it provided both a technological framework and a psychological model for opting out of democratic governance entirely.
What makes this vision dangerous is not just its hostility to democracy—it’s the way it frames the collapse of democratic governance as an inevitability rather than a choice. This is what I have described as “epistemic authoritarianism.” Rather than acknowledging that technology is shaped by human agency and political decisions, Srinivasan’s “network state” vision assumes that technological change has a fixed trajectory, one that will naturally dissolve nation-states and replace them with digitally mediated governance structures. This deterministic thinking leaves no room for public debate, democratic decision-making, or alternative paths for technological development. It tells us that the future has already been decided, and the only choice is whether to embrace it or be left behind.
This deterministic framing also explains why so many libertarians found themselves drifting toward reactionary politics. If democracy is doomed, then why bother defending it? If technology is going to replace governance, then why not accelerate the process? This is how techno-libertarianism became a gateway to neoreaction—it replaced the classical liberal commitment to open debate and incremental progress with an absolutist vision of history that justified abandoning democratic ideals entirely.
When Musk gains control of Treasury payment systems, or Trump declares that laws don’t apply to those who save the country, they’re implementing ideas incubated in the crypto world. The notion that code can replace democratic institutions, that technical competence should override democratic negotiation, and that private power should supersede public authority—these ideas moved from crypto theory to political practice.
Both Srinivasan’s “network state” and Yarvin’s critique of democracy see technology as a means of escaping democratic constraints, but they approach it differently. Yarvin advocates for capturing and dismantling democratic institutions from within, while Srinivasan proposes building parallel structures without to make them irrelevant. We’re now witnessing the convergence of these approaches—using technological control to simultaneously capture and bypass democratic governance.
These ideological frameworks might have remained abstract theorizing if not for a unique convergence of factors that made their implementation suddenly possible. The rise of Trump—a figure simultaneously hostile to democratic institutions and eager to embrace tech oligarchs—presented an unprecedented opportunity. Here was a potential autocrat who didn’t just accept Silicon Valley’s critique of democracy, but embodied it. His contempt for constitutional constraints, his belief that personal loyalty should override institutional independence, and his view that government should serve private interests aligned perfectly with Silicon Valley’s emerging anti-democratic worldview. When combined with unprecedented technological control over information flows, financial systems, and social networks, this created a perfect storm: the ideology that justified dismantling democracy, the political vehicle willing to do it, and the technological capability to make it happen.
The financial crisis created the conditions for anti-democratic thought to take root in Silicon Valley, but the actual transformation occurred through a series of distinct phases, each building on the last. Let’s trace this evolution carefully:
The institutional context for this transformation is crucial. Gallup polls show trust in the media fell from 72% to 31% between 1976 to 2024, while distrust in government hit 85% post-2008, according to Pew Research. This erosion of institutional trust created fertile ground for alternative power structures.
The danger lies not just in what these operatives are doing, but in how their actions systemically dismantle citizens’ capacity for democratic resistance. What we are seeing is an exact implementation of Yarvin’s “RAGE” doctrine—Retire All Government Employees—that he first proposed in 2012. But what makes this moment particularly significant is how it combines multiple strands of neoreactionary thought into coordinated action. When Yarvin wrote about replacing democratic institutions with corporate governance structures, when he argues that technical competence should override democratic process, he is describing precisely what we’re now watching unfold.
Yarvin’s blueprint—remove career officials who might resist on legal or constitutional grounds and then install private technical infrastructure that makes oversight impossible—isn’t merely aimed at changing who runs government agencies. It’s aimed at fundamentally transforming how power operates, shifting it from democratic institutions to technical systems controlled by a small elite.
What we’re witnessing isn’t just a power grab—it’s the culmination of an ideology that has been incubated, tested, and refined for over a decade. First, these thinkers argued that democracy was inefficient. Then, they created technological tools—cryptocurrency, blockchain governance, and AI-driven decision-making—to bypass democratic institutions entirely. Now, they’re no longer experimenting. They are seizing control of government infrastructure itself, reprogramming it in real-time to function according to their vision. And they are determined to drag the rest of us into this Brave New World whether we consent or not.
This is why focusing solely on the technical aspects of what’s happening inside agencies misses the deeper transformation underway. Every unauthorized server, every AI model, every removed civil servant represents another step in converting democratic governance into what Yarvin called “neocameralism”—a system where society is run like a corporation, with clear ownership and control rather than democratic deliberation. The infrastructure being built isn’t meant to serve democratic ends—it’s meant to make democracy itself obsolete.
The strategy of “flooding the zone with shit” was never just about controlling the news cycle—it was about reshaping the conditions of governance itself. The goal was not just to mislead, but to create an environment so chaotic that traditional democratic decision-making would become impossible. After disrupting journalism, which replaced truth with engagement-optimized feeds, they moved to disrupting governance itself. Your news, your politics, your very reality—automated, privatized, and controlled by those who own the network. Then, once the public lost trust in government, the tech elite could present the solution: a new, AI-driven, algorithmically optimized form of governance—one that wouldn’t be subject to human irrationality, democratic inefficiency, or the unpredictability of elections. Just like social media companies replaced traditional news with algorithmic feeds, these technocrats sought to replace democratic governance with automated decision-making.
What’s happening inside “DOGE” is the final phase of this plan. The old democratic institutions, weakened by years of deliberate destabilization, are being replaced in real-time by proprietary AI systems controlled not by elected officials, but by the same network of unaccountable Silicon Valley operatives who engineered the crisis in the first place. We are not heading toward this future—we are already living in it.
Government functions that once belonged to democratically accountable institutions are already being transferred to proprietary AI systems, optimized not for justice or equality, but for efficiency and control. Already, decisions about financial regulation, law enforcement priorities, and political dissent are being made by algorithms that no citizen can vote against and no court can oversee. Your rights are no longer determined by a legal framework you can appeal—they are dictated by a set of terms of service, changeable at the whim of those who control the network.
If we do not act now, we may wake up one day to find that democracy was not overthrown in a dramatic coup—but simply deleted, line by line, from the code that governs our lives.
An earlier version of this essay was originally published in Mike Brock’s newsletter, Notes From the Circus.
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Very important article. Thanks for summarizing so much that we need to know.
The Idiocracy has brought us to this. Terrifying.