Rasti Delizo is a global affairs analyst, veteran Filipino socialist activist and former vice-president of the Bukluran ng Manggagawang Pilipino IMAGE/BMP, Solidarity of Filipino Workers
In the second of a three-part series, Delizo talks to Federico Fuentes from LINKS International Journal of Socialist Renewal
about the impacts of US-China tensions on Philippine politics and the
left. Part I, which looks at the factors underpinning US-China tensions
and the dangers posed for the Asia-Pacific region can be read here.
How do you explain current dynamics within global capitalism?
There
is a distinct but related set of dynamics that generates global
capitalism’s endless conflicts. The imperialist world system does not
just produce full-scale wars of aggression by traditional imperialist
powers. It also induces sub-imperialist powers in the semi-periphery of
world capitalism to launch regional wars for capital accumulation. This
is another material factor expressing capitalism’s utterly decomposing
nature. These complexities deepen the international order’s structurally
exploitative, oppressive, and repressive circumstances.
Here, I would clarify that the Russian Federation is an imperialist great power rather than a sub-imperialist state (as I explained in a prior LINKS interview).
Russia is a close strategic ally of China and belongs to the same
imperialist bloc. The China-Russia bloc is a fraction of the imperialist
core. As a direct consequence, this duo is caught in a competition with
its rival imperialist bloc, led by the US and allied imperialist states
of the G7.
These two groups compete to win predominance over the
imperialist world system. These disparate blocs — representing
diametrically opposed pro-capitalist camps — chase superprofits for the
ruling-class elites of their respective capitalist states. They use
capitalist mechanisms of exploitation, via their extensive territorial
spheres of influence reinforced by military force, to guarantee greater
capital accumulation.
Returning to your first question: a complex
reality of varied but constantly moving parts moulds and propels the
international system of monopoly-finance capital. The imperialist world
system’s evolving globalised structures and processes are critically
driven by paradoxes creating worldwide tensions and hostilities.
These
global antagonisms are primarily caused by the uneven and combined
development throughout the world. These unequal features, when combined
with asymmetrical material realities (imperialist powers,
sub-imperialist states, subjugated countries), causes international
conflicts among diverse state actors operating within the capitalist
system. It is this universal setting that causes non-imperialist great
powers to also wield military power beyond their borders to secure
capitalist profits from their immediate spheres of influence.
As a
result, there are a cluster of sub-imperialist nation-states operating
throughout various regions. Some rose from imperialism’s post-1945 phase
of development , while others appeared after the end of the Cold War.
These sub-imperialist countries play a specifically combined economic,
political and military role within global capitalism.
Today
even smaller nations such as Turkey and Saudi Arabia, among others,
exert military power beyond their borders, either directly or through
proxies. Is that what you mean by sub-imperialist?
As a
part of the structures underpinning the international division (and
redivision) of labour — mainly along particular zones of capitalist
production-distribution-consumption — sub-imperialist states are located
within the semi-periphery.
Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney and US President Donald Trump don’t see eye to eye. IMAGE/ YouTube Screengrab
The deeper story here is not about tariffs or China. It is about an insecure America that has lost its way
For decades, the relationship between the United States and Canada
belonged to the category of geopolitical facts so stable they barely
required analysis.
A shared border without fortifications. Deeply integrated supply
chains. Energy interdependence so extensive it blurred the distinction
between domestic and foreign trade.
If alliances were marriages, this one looked less like a romance than
a long, practical partnership—occasionally dull, rarely dramatic and
almost never existential. That assumption has now been punctured – and
loudly so.
Donald Trump’s threat to impose a 100% tariff
on Canadian goods is not merely another episode in his familiar trade
brinkmanship. It marks a deeper shift: the weaponization of economic
power against a close ally for exercising sovereign choice.
Not over war. Not over security. But over trade policy—specifically,
Canada’s decision to strike a limited, pragmatic arrangement with China.
The question raised is not whether tariffs “work” in some abstract
economic sense. History has already delivered its verdict on that front.
The more unsettling question is political: Can the US, under Trump’s
vision, tolerate even mild strategic autonomy among its allies? Or does
loyalty now require submission?
From strategic partnership to conditional sovereignty
Trump’s argument, stripped of its rhetoric, is straightforward. If Canada becomes a conduit for Chinese goods entering the US market,
punishment will follow. The premise rests on the idea that Canada’s
trade decisions are legitimate only insofar as they align with
Washington’s preferences. Sovereignty, in this view, is conditional.
That logic would have been foreign to earlier American statecraft. During the Cold War,the US tolerated—sometimes
grudgingly—independent economic relations among allies, from West
Germany’s trade with the Soviet bloc to Japan’s mercantilist policies
that hollowed out American manufacturing towns.
Washington complained. It pressured. But it rarely threatened
economic annihilation of its closest partners. Trump has crossed that
line repeatedly. Canada is not an outlier; it is a test case.
The concept of ‘post-ideology’ often causes profound unease, as it
suggests that the era of sweeping political narratives and dogmas is
giving way to a more pragmatic, technocratic approach to governance. For
many, this transition is a deeply troubling thought that feels like a
betrayal of the very soul of politics.
Critics frequently ask how systems can function without a moral
compass. For instance, the American scholar Francis Fukuyama noted that
humans possess an innate desire for ‘thymos’ or the recognition of their
dignity, which is often tied to the grand visions and ideological
frameworks that post-ideology seeks to discard.
While it is true that pragmatism and realism are themselves forms of
ideological thought, they differ fundamentally from ‘hard’ ideologies
such as socialism, fascism, liberalism, nationalism etc. Unlike these
boxed frameworks, realism/pragmatism is a fluid, outcome-oriented
approach that prioritises the survival and prosperity of society over
the preservation of abstract theory.
To paraphrase the American philosopher John Dewey, “An idea is true
only insofar as it works.” Pragmatism, therefore, is a concept of
tangible results rather than a set of moral commands. The
German-American political scientist Hans Morgenthau argued that
political realism is governed by objective laws of interest rather than
moralistic or ideological preferences.
As political narratives lose their grip, governance across the
world is increasingly being shaped by pragmatism, data and outcomes
rather than dogma
A shift towards post-ideology governance is accelerating,
representing a significant global phenomenon. Narratives once defined by
the existential struggles between hard ideologies are increasingly
being replaced by models that prioritise state efficiency, economic
results and social stability. This transition is recognised by political
scientists as a ‘managerial’ turn in global politics, a concept first
pioneered by the American political theorist James Burnham.
One can understand why this shift is problematic for some. In the
contemporary digital space, for example, social media has provided a
convenient mechanism for individuals to construct and broadcast their
‘ideological’ personas. Users present themselves as democrats,
socialists, religious nationalists or even neo-fascists. This phenomenon
is exacerbated by the fact that these declarations have been monetised.
Social media creates a commercial incentive to cling to dogmas or move
from one ideological cliché to the next.
The world’s largest aircraft carrier USS Gerald R. Ford was seen entering the Mediterranean Sea on Friday February 20, 2026. It is heading towards the Gulf as US President Donald Trump prepares to attack Iran because nuclear and genocidal power Israel wants it. Israel wants no country in the Middle East which could challenge its hegemony or could question its plan to erase Palestine from the map. IMAGE/Gulf News
I
am a student of business, trained to see the world through the
discipline’s analytic frame. From that vantage point, politics can
resemble commerce. It can be seen as an exercise in offering services to
prospective clients and persuading an audience.
With
that perspective in mind, I set out to approach this election as a
business case study. My intention is to examine the promotional
strategies, competitive advantages and structural shortcomings of the
BNP and Jamaat, and to draw lessons that may be useful to business
owners and brand practitioners.
Because
this is an academic exercise, readers will inevitably find points open
to debate. I would encourage, however, that it be read as analysis
rather than advocacy.
Though
written primarily for fellow business observers, it may also offer
political practitioners insights as they refine their future strategies.
What
stood out most on the campaign trail was the stark disparity in brand
visibility between the BNP and the Jamaat alliance. By my estimation,
the difference was considerable—perhaps as wide as a ratio of 10 to 2.
The BNP appeared dominant across nearly every physical touchpoint. Booths, banners, posters and manpower.
In
modern markets, a superior product alone rarely guarantees success.
Visibility and availability play decisive roles in consumer choice.
Large
corporations understand this well. They invest heavily to secure
prominent shelf space, position products at eye level and ensure their
presence in high-traffic retail environments.
These decisions are rooted in careful calculations about human behavior.
This
dynamic often reinforces itself. Smaller brands, constrained by limited
resources, struggle to invest in visibility. Without visibility, they
fail to grow. And without growth, they remain unable to invest.
It
is a self-perpetuating cycle familiar to anyone who studies market
competition. This election, in many ways, illustrated that same
principle.
The
lesson is not abstract for me. At Beefwala—the restaurant brand that I
run—we long took a casual approach to visibility, preferring the romance
of being a “hidden gem.”
We
assumed that a strong product would draw customers on its own merit. As
a result, we neglected even the basics: clear road signage and a
visible presence. This election has forced me to reconsider. Quality
alone is not sufficient.
Visibility, too, requires deliberate investment.
Online vs real life
The contrast between online and offline strategy was equally striking.
Jamaat
demonstrated formidable strength in the digital arena. Its supporters
produced a steady stream of short-form videos, coordinated social media
activity and memorable campaign songs. Online, their presence was
unmistakable.
Yet
on the ground, the balance shifted. The BNP relied on scale and
physical engagement. Its workers canvassed neighborhoods, staffed booths
and maintained a visible, continuous presence.
The party’s offline infrastructure appeared broader and more persistent.
This
divergence suggests a miscalculation common in both politics and
business: overestimating the reach of digital engagement while
underestimating the enduring importance of physical presence.
The
result was not merely a difference in tactics, but in perception. Where
one side dominated screens, the other dominated streets.
And in markets, as in elections, presence often shapes outcome.
There
is, however, a warning here for the Bangladesh Nationalist Party. Its
victory was more fragile than it appeared. The reason the Bangladesh
Jamaat-e-Islami was able to challenge it at all was the BNP’s anemic
digital presence.
Politics,
like business, punishes those who misread the direction of momentum. If
the BNP learns to capture public sentiment online with the same
discipline it demonstrated offline, its dominance could harden into
something far more durable.
The
larger lesson is unmistakable though. Online activism alone is
insufficient. Offline machinery alone is insufficient. Power now belongs
to those who integrate both.
Businesses
that rely exclusively on digital channels expose themselves to sudden
disruption. Those that remain stubbornly analog surrender vast,
expanding markets.
The same is true in politics. Hybrid strength is no longer optional. It is the price of relevance.
Despite demographic marginalisation and cultural retreat, Hindu sacred music continues to live in Pakistan.
In Pakistan, the Hindu minority lives largely in Sindh and southern
Punjab, with smaller pockets in Balochistan and Khyber Pakhtunkhwa.
There are estimated to be over five million Hindus (including both Jati
and Scheduled Caste communities), making them the largest non-Muslim
minority in the country.
Jati groups such as Brahmins, Rajputs, Thakurs, Lohanas, and
Maheshwaris tend to be more urban and influential, often active in
business, medicine, or law. Scheduled Castes, legally designated in the
mid-twentieth century, include Meghwar, Kolhi, Bheel, Oad, Bagri,
Balmiki, and others.
They are the majority of Pakistan’s Hindus, yet they face layered
disadvantage: religion places them at the margins of the national
majority, and caste places them at the margins of Hindu society itself.
Seats reserved for Hindus in government rarely reflect this lower-caste
majority, and literacy among Scheduled Caste women remains among the
lowest in South Asia.
Among the cultural traditions affected by these social and political
pressures is Hindu sacred music. It has deep roots in the Indus region.
The ancient concept of nada brahma, the idea that creation itself is
sonic, still informs devotional practice.
The foundations of Hindu music lie in Vedic literature, where
syllabic chanting, melody, and movement coalesced into sangeeta. Over
time, the Bhakti movement widened participation to all communities
through vernacular song, and its poetic aesthetics, described through
raas theory, shaped emotional and spiritual expression.
Before 1947, the region experienced centuries of mutual cultural
influence among Hindus and Muslims, producing a shared artistic
environment sometimes described as Ganga Jamuna Tehzeeb. In this
setting, musical identities were porous and devotional repertoires
travelled across communities.
Partition disrupted that world. State policies after independence,
combined with broader social prejudice, pushed overtly Hindu cultural
forms out of mainstream public life. These dynamics did not erase sacred
music but changed how it lived.
Parents should teach their kids to recognise when it is not appropriate to use slang, such as in composition-writing and speaking in formal situations. IMAGE/Adobe Stock
These
selections offer a compelling snapshot of prevailing cultural and
social trends, particularly among the young digital-native generation,
over the past year.
You
may have overheard your children saying these very words, perhaps
leaving you with a momentary sense of frustration as you struggled to
follow their conversation.
Navigating the rapidly evolving vocabulary of youth can feel like deciphering an entirely new language.
But
do not worry, the following chat has been decoded to help you “gain
aura” (slang for boost one’s cool factor) with your children.
Lucas: Bruh, Jennie just posted that “I study only two hours a day” video again.
Zoey: That’s 100 per cent rage bait. (Rage bait: Posting online content just to make people mad and argue in the comments, thereby driving up engagement and traffic.)
Lucas: Exactly. She’s just trying to aura farm at this point. (Aura farm: Act confident or mysterious online to gain clout or admiration.)
Zoey: But it’s working for her. She is just vibe coding chill energy while everyone in the comments is like “teach me your ways”. (Vibe coding: Creating an app or website using artificial intelligence. But among teens, it can mean doing something to evoke a certain mood.)
Lucas: Facts. Meanwhile, I post one chill pic and get two likes – one’s you and one’s mum.
Zoey: No cap, that’s a flop era moment right there. (No cap: For real, not lying. Flop era: A phase when you are not doing well or not getting attention.)
Lucas: 6 7 (6 7: Pronounced “six sevennn”, not sixty-seven. Largely a playful sign-off or an acknowledgement without a concrete meaning, while some say it means “so-so”.)
“The Poor People’s Campaign is the greatest single challenge ever unleashed upon our colonial system.”
Revisiting the Reverend Jesse L. Jackson’s essay
“Resurrection City: The Dream… the Accomplishments” in the hours after
his death is to encounter a morose nostalgia – and, quickly following,
an acute rage. “Resurrection City” was published in Ebony magazine
in October 1968. In the essay, Reverend Jackson recounts the vision of
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., before his April 4, 1968 assassination, for
a political program focussing on poverty, economic injustice, and the
profound and violent class differences — the brutal divisions between
rich and poor — cutting across racial lines in the United States. King’s
vision resulted in the Poor People’s Campaign.
Under the leadership of Reverend Ralph Abernathy and other
leaders of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC), the Poor
People’s Campaign joined with a cross-racial alliance of advocates for
the poor and working class organizations to carry out Dr. King’s vision
of an occupation of the US Capitol’s National Mall to make visible the
plight of the poor to the US government. Groups organized caravans from
all over the US to travel to Washington DC. They began arriving in
Washington on May 5th. On May 13th at an opening ceremony, Dr. Abernathy
dedicated the site as “Resurrection City, U.S.A.” and construction of
the wood dwellings began. The encampment had about 3000 dwellings and
more than 50,000 people lived on the site – in the heart of the US
government.
Resurrection City is probably better remembered for its
quick death than for its short life. It lasted but forty-two days. Media
coverage focussed on its internal political difficulties, the apparent
failure of its progressive vision for economic reform, and the
near-Biblical storms that turned it into a city of mud and wood and
frustrated dreams.
Yet in his Ebony essay, Reverend Jackson,
dismisses the easy criticisms, along with the one-dimensional and
slanted media coverage. He instead pointed to Resurrection City’s
accomplishments: its gathering of disparate racial groups of poor people
and its attempts to center economics and class as the unifying force of
US politics over narrow sectional and racial interests.
It is striking to read the Reverend Jackson of 1968. His
personality and politics have been flattened and caricatured in the
intervening years: after his two candidacies of the presidential
nomination of the Democratic Party (1984 and 1988), with the control of
the party by the right-wing Democratic Leadership Council and the rise
of Bill Clinton, and, especially as Obama engulfed Black politics. Yet,
of course, Reverend Jackson was also both the product of a movement and a
bellwether of the times. To read in Ebony magazine of all
places his progressive demands for jobs and economic justice, his
attacks on militarism, imperialism, and oligarchy, and his advocacy of
inter-racial alliance suggests something of a long-lost era in US
politics. Hence the nostalgia, but also the anger: what has happened to
US politics, to Black politics, in the intervening decades has been
nothing short of disastrous.
Jackson’s “Resurrection City” is a document of a lost
politics — a politics that needs to rise from the dead. We reprint it
below.
Resurrection City: The Dream…The Accomplishments
by JESSE JACKSON
From May to July the Poor People’s Campaign converged on
Washington, D.C., to challenge the nation’s economic structure to
address the problems of poverty in America. Much has been written and
filmed about the campaign, but now I want to submit my reflections on
this phase of the struggle for human rights.
From its inception in the mind of Dr. Martin Luther King,
Jr. to the forceful closing of Resurrection City, the Poor People’s
Campaign had an awesome task: to help the nation determine its
priorities. In Birmingham, the Southern Christian Leadership Conference
challenged America’s priorities in relationship to its social structure. In Selma, that challenge was extended to the political structure. Finally, the time came to raise the economic issues to the conscience of the nation.
America had been alerted that 40 million people, a full
one-fifth of the world’s richest nation, were living below the poverty
level.
Buried midst the tons of information was the fact that
30,000 jobs were being lost to the labor market each week by
technological advances. In order to meet the growing anxiety of the
American people, the Poor People’s Campaign took up the burden of
raising the issue of poverty to the surface of our national conscience
and to expose its devastation in the lives of millions of poor people.
Someone had to cry out for justice in a land that has placed priority on profits rather than persons.
Someone had to ring out with clear moral authority that 10
million people went to bed each night suffering physical destruction
from malnutrition to acute starvation.
Someone had to say that not only do we need jobs but that we also need a redefinition of work.
Someone had to plead for a quality in life that offered wages, but more importantly, fulfillment.
Someone had to demand that involuntary starvation should be a punishable crime in a land of surplus and waste.
But so often only the incidentals of the Campaign were
communicated to the nation. Such incidents included the record downpour
of rain and the resulting mud in Resurrection City. The care of the mule
train, the mire and the inherent confusion in a massive task of
building a city of many ethnic groups were amplified or printed out of
proportion by the news media. Thus the general level of the nation’s
insensitivity and unawareness was in part attributable to a press that
deals often in sensationalism, personalities and in protecting big
business. And the press preferred to print apparent feelings about the
death of Dr. King and Senator Robert Kennedy rather than focus upon the
issues damning the poor to hungering insignificance. Thus a nation
largely uninformed was challenged to judge the personal behavior of poor
people rather than the collective behavior of the Congress.
Given the press preferences for problems of process rather
than the purpose of the Poor People’s Campaign, the adversaries of the
poor exploded those problems out of proportion in order to avoid the
issues of inequity in our economic structure. From mud to personality
differences in Resurrection City occupied their time rather than the
cries for food, jobs and opportunity that brought Resurrection City into
being. But a new idea was moving from the excitement of conception to
the fermentation and growth to the laboring pains of anguish when
moments of history yield forth new life.
GATHERING THE POOR
What was the difficulty? The pain involved pulling together
all of America’s poor: the Indians, the Puerto Ricans, the
Mexican-Americans, the poor whites, the poor [B]lacks — each of whom had
been taught that the others were enemies. Historical circumstances
forced each group apart and structured in each disrespect for the other.
We had been so obsessed with competing with one another for the few
jobs and privileges at the bottom of the economy that we dared not
threaten our status with too much public or political identification. We
thought competition was our most effective tool, when cooperation is
our real challenge. Many of us had analyzed our problem to be simply
race, when, in reality, race is only a part of the problem. Class is
another part of the problem. There is an inherent contempt that the
economic system holds for the suppressed at the bottom of the economy.
Yet the economy of the nation rests upon the shoulders of the oppressed.
The first meetings of these different ethnic groups were
exciting but tense. The groups were full of fear and mistrust of one
another. Each group felt that it had a monopoly on pain and suffering.
So meetings were long as we bore with one another’s sermons on the
effects of particular aches and pains. This was a period of anxiety when
each group began learning to appreciate the other, to gather
information about the other.
With our [B]lack-white analysis few of us realized that
there are more poor whites in numbers than poor [B]lacks. But in
percentages, more [B]lacks are poor than whites. Few of us really
understood the insignificant role relegated to the poor white class by
the rich white class. We realized that [B]lacks are a despised caste
within the poor class. But at least we were a caste which the system
calculated to make us suffer but allow us to live. While [B]lacks were
slated to be ground up by the economic system based upon slavery, and
eliminated as the technological development of the system rendered them
unnecessary, the ultimate destiny of [B]lacks was genocide spread from
generation to generation. Seldom do we realize that [B]lack capitulation
to the tyranny of the slave system provided us the means to struggle
for our survival midst our suffering and our destiny to die. White
people concluded that “a good nigger was an obedient nigger,” and they
taught us that obedience was better than sacrifice. Thus, we developed
survival techniques that included acting docile and meek even though we
always felt differently. Uncle Tomism because for us an involuntary
state of existence developed for survival.
At the same time, America’s Indians were destined to
instant genocide, tribe by tribe, day by day. The Indians, with their
strong sense of identity and pride, were confronted by the forces of
tyranny invading their lands and homes. They remained anti-colonialist
and contended that their land had been taken, and for this they were
driven from their homes to reservations in the desert regions to die
rather than in ghettos or colonies to work. So anti-colonial were their
actions that white people concluded that “the only good Indian is a dead
Indian.”
Another technique used upon [B]lacks, but not upon other
poor minorities, was social integration. We integrated from pain and
brutality and humiliation, not toward joy and fulfillment. Blacks have
never been covetous of the talents or souls of white folks. Only whites’
privileged status and social protection appealed to [B]lacks. Our total
uprooting and separation from our tribes, languages, culture and land
is the fundamental reason for our actions. As [B]lacks we were taken
from our land and brought here. We experienced the whites as rapists of
our dignity. On the other hand, the Indians’ sense of nationhood, or
peoplehood, is responsible for their collective behavior for freedom or
death. The Indians and the Mexican-Americans experienced the Europeans
as rapists of their land.
In Resurrection City the poor whites began to see how they
had been used as tools of the economic system to keep other minority
groups in check. Perhaps the poor whites were the most tricked of all
the poor in that they are in the same economy class as the others. Their
problems are basically the same, in fact as ours: a need for food,
jobs, medicine and schools. However, they were given police rights over
“niggers,” a plan which satisfies their sick egos but does not deal with
any of their basic problems.
It was in our wallowing together in the mud of Resurrection City that we were allowed to hear, to feel and to see each other for the first time in our American experience. This vast task of acculturation, of pulling the poor together as a way of amassing economic, political and labor power, was the great vision of Dr. King.
“he top 10% own three-quarters of global wealth, while the bottom half holds only 2%.” So states the World Inequality Report 2026. Can democracy survive when capitalism concentrates wealth so drastically?
The belief that democracy and capitalism are natural allies is as
widespread as it is inaccurate. To see this, one has only to observe
capitalist accumulation under authoritarian political arrangements. The
UAE is just one such example. Why then does this belief persist?
Democracy and capitalism often journey together — until they don’t.
To a point, they do support each other. This is why it is not easy to
find democracies without capitalism. Think of a society, poor and
authoritarian, that then undergoes a revolutionary change that makes it
both democratic and capitalist. For a while, the two would go
together. Democracy would bring freedom and political equality;
capitalism would bring resources.
Even Marx acknowledged that capitalism creates ‘colossal productive
forces’. The growing middle class would demand greater freedoms and
consumption, thereby strengthening both democracy and capitalism. For
some time, prosperity and empowerment would rise together.
But this harmonious co-existence would soon wear off. Democracy is
about political equality. Capitalism, by design, needs economic
inequality. The two would eventually collide. In time, the wealth
generated by capitalism starts to pool in fewer and fewer pockets.
Growth continues, distribution falters. Tensions begin to appear.
Democracy is about political equality. Capitalism, by design, needs economic inequality.
This concentration is not just financial. Being rich doesn’t just
mean plush houses or private jets. It means connections and information,
as the wealthy form exclusive social ties, venture together, share
insights and tastes, thus increasing their collective purse. French
sociologist Bourdieu has called this social capital, “aggregate of
actual or potential resources” that bring tangible benefits.
High-profile events such as the Ambani wedding illustrate how this
transformation happens. But the process does not stop here.
Social capital soon becomes political capital, with the wealthy
getting access to the political class, who make laws. The role of the
corporate lobby and campaign funding is well documented. These are some
of the ways in which wealth buys political influence. Elon Musk’s access
to and authority in the White House was an example of the political
power wealth can bring. Consequently, economic values of capitalism
start to prevail over the political ideals of democracy, human rights
and political equality, as the market dictates the state.