History rarely announces when it is shifting gears, but the first 30 days of the Trump presidency suggest that we are moving through a moment of profound transition — one where the speed of change outpaces our ability to fully grasp its implications.
Regardless of where one stands politically, it is impossible to ignore that the movement Donald Trump represents arose from a profound and growing conviction that America’s institutional order had fractured. Over the past decade, the fault lines of a society grappling with the pressures of globalization, the relentless pace of technological disruption and a widening gulf of distrust in governing institutions have been laid bare. Yet even the most seasoned observers have been caught off guard by the sheer velocity and depth of the transformation now unfolding.
The alliance between the MAGA ideologues and the tech “broligarchs” — a new aristocracy of digital-age power brokers whose reach extends from finance to the very architecture of modern communication — has moved with remarkable precision to seize the commanding heights of the state. By deploying DOGE — a shock force of Gen Z programmers and digital insurgents embedded within key bureaucratic structures — and leveraging control over financial arteries and the algorithmic megaphone of the X platform, this coalition is enacting change at the speed of the internet. The scale and the impact of this moment echo a historical precedent unseen since the Bolsheviks consolidated power in revolutionary Russia. The real question now is whether this transformation will take the shape of a controlled evolution or unravel into a chaotic rupture — one that fundamentally reshapes the fabric of American political life.
Elon Musk, in this context, is both catalyst and symptom. He operates on the outer edges of mania, driven by a hyper-idealism that barrels forward without much concern for consequences. Like Trump, he’s less an architect of ideology than an enabler of disparate factions that, under normal conditions, would never align. But figures such as Musk and Trump create gravitational pulls, gathering together a coalition of the discontented and opportunistic. That is how history turns — not through mass consensus, but through the actions of determined minorities who know exactly where they want to go while everyone else is still arguing about the road.
This isn’t new. The pattern echoes the chaotic realignments of Weimar Germany or the revolutionary upheaval in Russia after the First World War — periods when fragmented and dissatisfied factions suddenly found themselves on the same side of history, even if for vastly different reasons. It’s the kind of inflection point that William Strauss and Neil Howe describe in The Fourth Turning (1997) — a cyclical period of crisis where old institutions collapse, norms are shattered and a new order emerges from the wreckage. And in moments such as these, the winners are not necessarily the largest or most broadly supported factions, but those with the greatest commitment, the clearest vision and the willingness to seize the moment when the old guard stumbles.
Change was needed — not just in the United States, but across the Group of Seven and Group of Twenty. The world has grown more complex, while institutions have struggled to evolve, clinging to outdated models, mortgaging the future to sustain the present. But here’s the problem: the transformation currently unfolding in the United States is almost entirely inward-looking, ignoring the question that matters most: What comes next? The tragedy of the moment is the failure to recognize that America’s power has never been purely domestic. Its global dominance wasn’t just a function of economic or military strength — it was its interconnectedness, its ability to integrate itself into the workings of every major system in the world. The United States didn’t just exist at the centre of the global order; it made itself central, leveraging diplomacy, trade, alliances and even coercion to shape a world that, despite its many flaws, was ultimately more stable and prosperous.
The jury is still out on whether we are in the midst of a full-fledged revolutionary moment or if the chaos unleashed will be contained, ultimately giving way to a more systematic approach to government reform. At present, predicting the trajectory is difficult, as the drive for rapid change collides with a growing recognition of its implications for shaping the United States. Whether this momentum decelerates into a measured process or continues at breakneck speed, one thing is certain — this period will be remembered as a seminal moment in US history, one that will shape the country’s political and institutional landscape for years to come.
So the real question is this: Will this period of rapid, domestically focused upheaval lead to a stronger, safer and more prosperous America? Or will it do the opposite — pushing the United States toward isolation, retreating from the very interconnectedness that underpins its wealth and security? And if the latter transpires, where does the anger go when the expected renaissance fails to materialize?
The danger of tearing down institutions without a plan for rebuilding is that chaos fills the void. And when that happens, blame is no longer placed on foreigners, migrants, allies or competitors — it turns inward. Not us against them, but me against you.
History will judge Trump and Musk, but not in real time — not while we are in the midst of a revolutionary moment. And as Mark Twain is credited with saying, “History doesn’t repeat itself, but it rhymes.”
If there’s a lesson from the early twentieth century — from Germany and from Russia — it’s that the names of the men who set the fire matter far less than the forces they unleash. What matters now is who picks up the power that’s been thrown into the streets. That, more than Trump or Musk, will define the United States — and global security — for the century ahead.
