Israel Centeno
One of the few things that can be said with any certainty in our time is that politics has ceased to be about governance and become a theater of projection. The right and the left, in their current forms, no longer represent coherent ideologies; they function instead as mirrors, each defined by its hatred of the other. What we are witnessing is not a battle of ideas but a battle of reflexes. And as Carl Jung noted, the shadow we refuse to acknowledge in ourselves will inevitably appear in the face of our enemy.
But this is not new. This is political romanticism, reincarnated.
In the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, fascism and communism did not arise as symmetrical opposites. They were mirror images—each born from disillusionment with Enlightenment rationalism, each promising a redemption of history, a restoration of meaning, and a heroic future built upon sacrifice. Both movements relied on emotion over reason, myth over analysis, identity over universality. Both were totalizing. Both demanded enemies to define themselves.
Today, that romanticism has returned—not in the form of grand ideologies, but as reactive tribalism dressed in digital aesthetics.
The new populist right and the progressive identitarian left no longer resemble traditional conservatism or classical liberalism. They resemble, in attitude and structure, the old romantic ideologies of Europe:
— the exaltation of feeling over thought
— the sacralization of collective identity
— the desire to break with the “corrupt present”
— and the longing for a purifying crisis.
Both sides offer an emotional theater. They no longer argue policy—they narrate moral epics. Their currency is outrage. Their method is exposure. Their weapon is humiliation. And they both rely on simplified archetypes: the oppressor, the victim, the savior.
In this ecosystem, a name like Rosa Luxemburg becomes a brand. Her writings are not read, her contradictions not studied. She is invoked to validate the instinct, not to challenge it. Likewise, Jung is quoted by young conservatives who have never touched Psychological Types, simply because the word “shadow” sounds deep.
The problem is not ignorance. The problem is the willingness to perform seriousness without the burden of depth.
This is not politics. This is the return of the romantic impulse: the desire to redeem the world through purity, struggle, and identity. But it is a romanticism without poetry, without sacrifice—only curated indignation and algorithmic glory.
Each side believes it is resisting. Each side claims to be the true victim. But in reality, both act within the same structure:
— moral absolutism
— the cult of the silenced voice
— permanent offense as identity
— and the refusal to engage the other without caricature.
This was the logic of the 1930s, only now it’s digitized.
The question is not who is right, but what system of thought can survive when everything becomes romanticized and moralized to the point that no shared framework remains.
When fascism and communism clashed, they burned books, imprisoned thinkers, and demanded total allegiance. They were enemies, but they were also reflections of one another: both viewed politics as a sacred struggle and justified violence in the name of a better future.
What we see today may be less violent—so far—but the logic is eerily familiar.
The romantic shadow is seductive. It offers meaning. It offers identity. It offers clarity in chaos.
But it never ends well.
And if history teaches us anything, it is this: when politics becomes a mirror, sooner or later the glass breaks. And when it breaks, it cuts.
Addendum:
As of this week, an unexpected political phenomenon is taking shape in the United States: the strong possibility that New York City—the symbolic capital of global capital—may soon be governed by a self-declared Marxist. For the first time in history, a major financial and cultural epicenter could serve as a testing ground for the very ideology it once exiled.
This has sparked contradictory reactions. Some, with visible suspicion, ask how such a figure could avoid being co-opted, especially given the millions in campaign donations from institutions like Goldman Sachs. Others claim, half-dismissively, “New York isn’t real America.” But the truth is: yes, it is. It is America in its most distilled capitalist form. Everything else is swamp and snakebite.
If socialism cannot function in the very city where capital concentrates, then where can it function at all?
The coming months will tell. For now, one thing is certain: even revolutionaries must learn to govern. And when they do, the romance tends to fade.
Centeno's Lighthouse 
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