By Angelo Giuliano
The decadence of Western elites has become impossible to conceal. What was once whispered in private jets and island compounds now spills across court documents, flight logs, and unsealed files, revealing a class that treats power, money, and the exploitation of children as interchangeable currencies of dominance.
Jeffrey Epstein remains the most glaring emblem of this moral collapse. His network was never just one man's perversion; it was a system where presidents, princes, billionaires, and scientists traded access, favors, and silence while underage girls were trafficked as proof of untouchable status. Recent document releases—flight logs showing Donald Trump on the Lolita Express in the 1990s, emails linking Elon Musk to Epstein's island invitations, friendly messages with Steve Bannon, and persistent ties to Bill Gates, Bill Clinton, and Prince Andrew—keep reminding the world that this was not aberration but architecture. Even after Epstein's death, the pattern persists: settlements, redactions, sweetheart deals, and the quiet protection of the powerful. Pedophilia here is not fringe; it functions as the ultimate symbol of impunity, where the most vulnerable become collateral in games of influence and control.
This is decadence laid bare: a ruling stratum so detached from consequence that it normalizes the commodification of innocence while preaching universal ethics from Davos podiums and WEF stages.
And what they fear most is not exposure—scandals pass like weather—but the forces that refuse to participate in their game, the barriers standing between them and absolute, unchallenged domination.
They loathe the Communist Party of China—not because it is without flaws, but because it delivers results without their blessing. It has lifted hundreds of millions from poverty, constructed the planet's largest high-speed rail system, and now leads in renewables and electric mobility, all while rejecting debt traps, moral lectures, and regime-change preconditions.
They loathe Vladimir Putin—not simply as adversary, but as living proof that a nation can rebuild sovereignty, weather total sanctions, redirect energy markets, and emerge stronger rather than broken.
They loathe the memory of Hugo Chávez—not for personal failings, but because he ignited a regional awakening that natural wealth could belong to the people instead of flowing north in tribute, that socialism could mean dignity instead of submission.
They despise socialism because it insists society exists for more than elite enrichment.
They despise direct democracy because it hands power back to citizens and removes it from technocrats and billionaire "visionaries."
They despise self-determination and sovereignty because sovereignty allows a country to say "no" without starvation, blockade, invasion, or engineered color revolution.
In place of these threats, they crave one unified appetite: raw, eternal power; endless, untraceable money; and the darkest forms of domination, where children become the final frontier of control, traded in private compounds far from public scrutiny.
Their chosen instruments are well known: the European Union's unelected bureaucracy, the IMF and World Bank's conditional debt, the WHO's emergency powers that bypass parliaments, the World Economic Forum's stakeholder model that always seems to favor the same stakeholders.
These are not separate tools. They are extensions of a single hunger.
Yet the multipolar world stands as the unbreakable obstacle.
The Global Majority—Africa, Asia, Latin America, the Middle East—no longer waits for permission. China offers twenty-five-year partnerships free of hidden political strings. Russia trades energy in rubles and yuan while the West prints more debt. BRICS expands through mutual interest: ports, railways, power plants, and respect for sovereignty.
Every new solar installation in Kenya, every rail link in Indonesia, every oil settlement in local currency, every central bank quietly stacking gold is another fracture in the old architecture of control.
So they panic—not with strategy, but with desperation. They flood screens with fear. They call multipolarity "chaos," sovereignty "authoritarianism," and every refusal an existential threat.
The Western masses—exhausted, divided, scrolling—absorb it. They are told Putin is Hitler reborn, China seeks enslavement, the Global South is ungrateful, and anyone doubting the "rules-based order" is dangerous. They rage at foreign shadows so they never confront the predators at home.
They debate culture-war trivia while pensions shrink, infrastructure crumbles, housing vanishes, and their elites retreat to islands where ordinary rules do not apply.
But the spell is thinning. More people see the hypocrisy. More people ask: If our system is superior, why does it lie so relentlessly to defend itself?
Every new scandal—another Epstein file, another quiet settlement—sharpens the contrast.
While Beijing links continents with rail, Western capitals debate whether to renationalize the railways they privatized into ruin.
While Moscow endures sanctions and functions, Washington prints trillions and watches bridges collapse.
The multipolar world is not utopia. It is reality asserting itself—imperfect, but grounded in progress rather than moral posturing.
The decadent will fight harder. They will sanction, propagandize, and escalate. But the ground has shifted.
Nations no longer beg for approval.
They trade in their own currencies.
They build their own institutions.
They say no—and survive.
Every survival fractures the myth of inevitability.
The future belongs to builders, not consumers.
And that is why they are so very afraid.
The views do not necessarily reflect those of DotDotNews.
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