In 2016, when Donald J. Trump did the unthinkable and beat Hillary Clinton—a woman so ensconced in the halls of Davosian power she might as well have been issued a United Nations passport—the architects of the so-called “Rules-Based International Order” felt a tremor under their polished marble floors. For decades, this Order—an alliance of bureaucrats, multinationals, intelligence agencies, and supranational institutions—had operated under the conceit that history had ended, that global governance would henceforth supersede national sovereignty. Trump’s triumph threatened their theology.
To these globalist mandarins, Trump’s insurgency was not merely electoral; it was heretical. He dared to question NATO’s utility, scorned open borders, mocked climate pieties, and—worst of all—promised to put America, not Brussels or Beijing, first. The idea that a nation might chart its own course, free from the guidance of transnational scolds, was an offense that had to be punished—not just to stop Trump, but to send a warning across the world: challenge the Order, and you will be destroyed.
By 2021, the game plan emerged with Orwellian clarity. Four separate prosecutions, nearly a hundred felony charges, and a cumulative sentence that would make Methuselah wince—Donald Trump was to be entombed under a legal avalanche. Not because he was uniquely corrupt, but because he was uniquely defiant. The United States, long a beacon of liberty, now took a page from banana republics, substituting ballots for subpoenas.
But while America’s progressive elite failed to jail Trump (at least so far), they succeeded in unleashing a new form of political warfare across the globe: lawfare as an instrument of regime preservation. The message was clear. Oppose the globalist consensus, and your name will appear on a docket.
Take Marine Le Pen. For years, the French nationalist leader has been the bête noire of Brussels. Her real crime? Proposing that the French—not the European Commission—should determine France’s future. After leading in the polls for the 2027 presidency, she was slapped with a conveniently timed conviction for misallocating parliamentary staff funds—a technicality so esoteric it wouldn’t pass muster in a Texas HOA dispute. On March 27, 2025, a Paris court sentenced Le Pen to a two-year suspended prison term, a fine of €20,000, and—most damningly—a two-year ban on holding public office. This means she is barred from running in the next presidential election. The case, involving €330,000 in alleged misuse of European Parliament funds, was initiated in 2016—conveniently revived just as she surged in the polls. The timing? Not coincidental.
It is worth noting that over a dozen of her National Rally party colleagues were convicted in the same case. The European Anti-Fraud Office (OLAF) referred the case, and the court’s decision—issued without the benefit of a jury—ignored the fact that similar cases in other EU member states have been quietly dropped or settled with modest fines. But Le Pen is not just another MEP. She is a threat to the supranational project. And in this brave new Europe, heresy against Brussels is prosecuted with greater vigor than Islamist incitement.
Germany—poster child for post-nationalist virtue—has declared open season on its own populists. Björn Höcke, a provincial voice for the AfD, faces trial for hate speech over the phrase “Everything for the Fatherland.” Frauke Petry, a former AfD leader, was convicted for perjury over statements about party finances. Meanwhile, the AfD itself is under intelligence surveillance, with whispers of a ban floating through the Bundestag. The crime? National identity.
In Romania, Călin Georgescu—a nationalist outsider—won the first round of the presidential election in November 2024, only to have the result annulled by a court citing “Russian interference.” The evidence? Nonexistent. But he was quickly arrested and charged with “communicating false information” and promoting fascism, rendering him ineligible. Democracy, you see, must be defended—even from the voters.
From South America to Eastern Europe, the same pattern unfolds. Former Georgian President Mikheil Saakashvili was imprisoned for crossing his country’s own border ‘illegally’ and later slapped with new charges conveniently extending his sentence. In Ukraine, Viktor Medvedchuk and former President Petro Poroshenko were charged with treason—one for allegedly sharing secrets, the other for buying coal from the wrong region. In both cases, opposition became sedition.
Even celebrity isn’t a shield. Ireland’s Conor McGregor, a household name and political aspirant, is on the verge of facing hate speech charges if he dares mount a campaign. In Brazil, Jair Bolsonaro, like Trump, faces a blizzard of indictments designed to ensure his banishment from politics. Venezuela’s María Corina Machado, banned for fifteen years over a decade-old “infraction,” was erased from the ballot despite winning her primary in a landslide.
In Turkey, Israel, and Austria, the mechanisms vary but the objective remains: judicial leverage against ideological dissent. On March 19, 2025, Turkish authorities arrested Istanbul Mayor Ekrem İmamoğlu—widely considered the leading opposition candidate to President Erdoğan—on charges of corruption and alleged links to the PKK. Critics widely view the arrest as politically orchestrated. Protests erupted nationwide, and nearly 1,900 citizens were detained in the ensuing crackdown. Meanwhile, in Pakistan, former Prime Minister Imran Khan was sentenced to 14 years in prison in early 2025 on corruption charges. His arrest followed a series of legal cases aimed at neutralizing his return to power. Numerous leaders from his party were also jailed or barred from running, effectively sidelining the populist movement ahead of national elections. The fig leaf of legality provides plausible deniability. But only those opposing the Order ever seem to find themselves in the dock.
What was once called democracy has become a curated simulation—democracy if and only if it produces the correct result. This is why the Biden precedent matters. By criminalizing a former U.S. president, he handed moral license to governments from Paris to Tbilisi to Caracas to do the same.
What links all these cases is not the gravity of the crimes—many are trivial, others ambiguous, a few outright fabricated—but the profile of the accused. They are nationalists. Populists. Skeptics of global technocracy. Opponents of forever wars, mass migration, and carbon commandments. For these sins, they must be disqualified. If not by voters, then by judges.
Democracy, in the globalist mind, is too important to be left to the people…..SNIP
