This latest screed from Alexander Dugin is a feverish piece of apocalyptic fascist mysticism. Delirious in scope, paranoid in tone, and disturbing in its open embrace of civilisational war. Like much of Dugin’s writing, it is not so much a political analysis as it is an ideological sermon, calling for holy war under the banner of a revived Russian metaphysics. It is structurally incoherent but strategically dangerous, because it attempts to provide a grand narrative in an age of fragmentation, a unifying myth for the most nihilistic elements of the global right.
Fascist Eschatology Disguised as Geopolitics
Dugin presents the recent US strikes on Iranian nuclear sites not as a tactical event but as the start of World War Three. This is not a measured judgment; it is a provocation. From the opening lines, Dugin seizes on the fear of nuclear escalation to justify his vision of total war. He invokes Chekhov’s gun, implicitly arguing that since nuclear weapons exist, they must be used. It is a stunning act of moral abdication disguised as inevitability.
From there, Dugin constructs a familiar Manichaean frame: the “globalists” versus the defenders of “sovereignty” and “traditional values.” This binary is not new, it echoes the rhetoric of far-right and fascist movements across the globe, but Dugin takes it to a metaphysical extreme. He claims that globalists want to abolish not only the nation-state but humanity itself, first through gender fluidity and migration, and then through AI and transhumanism. This is fascist eschatology: history as a descent into post-human decadence, followed by redemptive violence.
The Bellamy Salute and the Weaponisation of Nationalism
The Bellamy salute (referenced obsessively in this piece) was the original American pledge-of-allegiance gesture, later abandoned due to its resemblance to the Nazi salute. Dugin reclaims it as a symbol of resurgent nationalist energy. For him, nationalism is no longer an alternative to liberalism—it is a tool of the globalists, hijacked to ignite a planetary conflict. This rhetorical sleight of hand allows him to frame all political movements (from Trump’s MAGA to Israeli ultranationalism to Hindutva to Black Lives Matter) as pawns in a globalist chess game. It is internally contradictory, but the logic of conspiracy does not require consistency, it only demands that all roads lead to apocalypse.
What’s especially revealing here is how Dugin reinterprets Trump. Having once lauded him as a nationalist counterweight to globalism, Dugin now recasts him as a false prophet, used by the same forces he claimed to oppose. This disillusionment does not lead Dugin to reject Trumpism but rather to radicalise it. In his account, the true enemy is no longer just liberalism, but the failure of fascism to go far enough.
The Uses of Gaza and the Return of Holy War
Dugin cynically invokes Gaza “ask the children of Gaza,” he says, as a rhetorical device to delegitimise liberal appeals to moral conscience. But his concern is not with Palestinian liberation. Instead, he folds Gaza into his narrative of civilisational clash, using it to accuse the West of genocidal hypocrisy while building a case for retaliatory annihilation. This is not solidarity, it is theological vengeance.
What he ultimately demands is a new Russian ideology, one that fuses metaphysical purpose with military ruthlessness. The old Soviet ideology, he says, is dead. Liberalism is hollow. What remains is “holy and boundless Russian power” a euphemism for spiritualised fascism.
The Real Danger
What makes this piece truly dangerous is not its pseudo-intellectualism or even its incoherence. It is the way it gives ideological cover to nuclear escalation and genocidal violence. Dugin is articulating what much of the global far right has only hinted at: that civilisation must be reborn through the fire of total war. His vision is not defensive. It is pre-emptively annihilatory.
There are also signs of strategic messaging here: the idea that “Ukraine is Nazi,” that “Israel is Nazi,” that “Trump is a dupe,” that “AI will replace humanity,” that only a “new Russian ideology” can save us—these are talking points not designed to clarify but to mobilise. They aim to radicalise despair into mythic resolve. And Dugin knows his audience: not the average reader, but those who already suspect the end is near and yearn for meaning in the firestorm.
Final Judgement
This is not political theory. It is myth-making for a death cult. Dugin’s writing here is less a geopolitical analysis than an incantation: a prayer for collapse, a chant for war, and a benediction for a new fascist century. It should be read, if at all, not for its insights but for what it reveals about the intellectual infrastructure of the new fascist right.
And for that reason alone, it demands scrutiny—not celebration. You listening, tech bros?
