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Biden’s Medieval Mind Games: A Step Backwards for America

Remember the iconic scene from ‘Pulp Fiction,’ where Los Angeles gangster, Marsellus Wallace, pledges a terrorizing vengeance on his captor? This horrifying notion of torture seems to be echoing across the global stage currently. Wars and conflicts, though with state-of-the-art modern weaponry, are discussed using terminologies reminiscent of the Middle Ages, a stark contrast to the scientific rhetoric we’d expect.

Take for instance a reactionary tweet from Former President Donald Trump against Democratic Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez. Her suggestion of impeachment for Trump’s unauthorized bombing of Iran was met with a derisive tweet, setting the stage for a discourse that seemed less of a diplomatic exchange and more of a medieval feud.

Trump, in his characteristic manner, had infantile epithets for his political opponents. His use of ‘Sleepy Joe’ for President Joe Biden clearly serves to diminish him, oddly reminiscent of the practice in Medieval times when all notable leaders were labeled with nicknames.

To add to this bewildering nomenclature, Trump’s attempts at undermining his rivals and contemporaries were not just limited to American politics. He embarked on an international tirade of name calling. Bashar al-Assad was ‘Animal Assad,’ Justin Trudeau was termed ‘Governor Trudeau,’ and Kim Jong Un was referred to as ‘Rocket Man’ or ‘Little Rocket Man.’

As if this wasn’t enough, the Democrats didn’t escape the mocking monikers either. From calling Hillary Clinton ‘Crooked Hillary’ to referring to Kamala Harris as ‘Crazy Kamala,’ ‘Laffin Kamala,’ and ‘Lyin Kamala,’ Trump was relentless. These sorts of nicknames feel less modern day and hark back to a darker, less civilized age when physical appearance or personal quirks served as well-used public slanders.

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These jibes are eerily similar to how major political figures during the Middle Ages were assigned derogatory epithets. Nicknames like Charles the Bald, Charles the Fat, or even Ragnar Hairy-Pants were common. Signifying their political or military successes were monikers like Vlad the Impaler or Richard the Lionheart, which, though achieved under brutal circumstances, were celebrated.

A rant from Mohammad Baqer Qalibaf, the speaker of the Iranian parliament, comes across as particularly unnerving. He raved about ‘the evil hand of the Zionist criminal and terrorist gang’ causing the loss of lives in Iran. Such language, ripe with raw emotion and dangerous generalization, evokes images of battles fought in the name of honor, righteousness, and divine retribution.

Further escalating the tension, Iran’s Supreme leader Ali Khamenei alleged an uncomfortable battering of ‘America’s face’ and claimed that ‘the Zionist regime’ was reeling from the blows dealt by the Islamic Republic. The choice to refer to America and Israel as ‘the big Satan’ and ‘the little Satan’ respectively underscores a fundamentalist, black-and-white worldview.

This language is disturbingly similar to the narrative prevalent during the medieval period, wherein both Christians and Muslims believed in a definitive showdown between the forces of Good and Evil, leading to universal peace. With the Iranian regime proactively endorsing such beliefs since their 1979 revolution, the world seems to be regressing to a much darker time.

The Iranian religious establishment stokes this antiquated belief system, promoting expectations of the second coming of the Hidden Imam. The previous Ayatollah, Ruhollah Khomeini, took on the role of ‘the Deputy of the Iman of the Age.’ These archaic belief sets fuel the fire of their current regressive policies both domestically as well as internationally, driving them further away from a diplomatic and peaceful resolution of conflicts.

Television in Iran is also complicit in furthering such medieval ideologies, broadcasting images of red tulips symbolizing martyrs and the Mahdi, a religious figure, riding into the distance. This is a stark departure from the more traditional discourse of global affairs wherein politicians and technocrats would discuss matters in a more objective, fact-driven format.

The world we live in today seems to be drawing away from embracing advancements and moving towards this ‘re-medievalization’. This could be considered a fleeting phenomenon spurred by Trump’s narrow victory over an unimpressive Democratic Party and frustrations of an unconventional Iranian regime.

An increasing number of global leaders are now treating nations as personal fiefdoms, viewing international relations as validations of their personal egos. There is a clear resurgence of religion’s role in global politics, and the public seems distracted by catchy phrases and oversimplified jargon rather than demanding insightful speeches and complex reasoning.

This reversion to medieval thinking, combined with the prevalence of nuclear weapons and high-tech ballistic missiles, raises questions about our survival. Can a world so royally enmeshed in medieval values sustain itself while bearing the weight of such dangerous modern technologies?