In an era where power is often associated with force and dominance, the modern political strongman has become an unmistakable figure. Yet, beyond their aggressive rhetoric and displays of authority, there lies a striking absence of vision—one that is reflected not just in their policies, but in their very appearance.
From Donald Trump’s unmistakable orange hue to Jordan Peterson’s flashy suit jackets, and from Elon Musk’s casual indifference to Andrew Tate’s brash persona, there is a distinct lack of sophistication in the presentation of today’s so-called leaders. Unlike their predecessors, who understood the power of aesthetics, this new wave of authoritarian figures appears careless in their approach. Their lack of refinement suggests a deeper issue: a void in long-term strategy and ideology.
The hallmark of these figures is not the construction of a future, but rather the rapid dismantling of the present. Their approach is defined by accelerationism—an ideology that champions destruction in the hope that something better might emerge from the ruins. Yet, beyond their initial onslaught, there is no coherent plan for what comes next. Their governance style mirrors the crypto-NFT hype cycle—loud, disruptive, and ultimately hollow.
Critics have long accused the progressive left of focusing too much on dismantling historical structures without offering new solutions. Ironically, the same critique applies to the accelerationists in power. Their movements, devoid of substance, fail to inspire a lasting vision.
Historically, even the most extreme political movements possessed a clear aesthetic and a narrative that reflected their ambitions. Soviet-era planners, for instance, constructed monumental architecture that embodied their vision of the future. Fascist regimes, as reprehensible as they were, understood the importance of a striking and organized visual language. In contrast, today’s disruptors lack both the structure and the style to craft a compelling ideological vision.
New Zealand, too, has been swept up in this trend, albeit with less dramatic flair. Prime Minister Christopher Luxon may aspire to align himself with the populist wave seen across Europe and the United States, but he lacks the charisma and the conviction that define those figures. Unlike Trump, who—despite polarizing opinions—has undeniably captured a cultural moment, Luxon remains a mere imitator, struggling to carve out an identity of his own.
His government’s shortcomings are not just in presentation but in substance. There is no comprehensive vision for education, healthcare, or infrastructure—only a vague sense that things must change without a clear roadmap for improvement. Firing top-ranking officials will not fix systemic issues, particularly when the true source of dysfunction often lies in political interference rather than bureaucratic inefficiency.
Ultimately, the era of political vandalism masquerading as bold leadership will come to an end. When it does, it will not be because a shinier, more marketable alternative emerges. It will be because a new movement, rooted in well-defined ideas and a sense of purpose, rises to take its place.
Style is not just about appearance—it is about thought, action, and the ability to create rather than destroy. When the counter-revolution arrives, it will need to be more than just an alternative; it must be meticulously crafted, visually compelling, and intellectually sound. In a world dominated by misinformation and manufactured narratives, the power of aesthetics remains one of the last unfiltered tools of communication. The future will belong to those who understand this—and who wield it with both precision and vision.
