What led staunchly anti-American voices to cheer for the President of the United States?
Because they embraced the notion that he was battling the so-called Deep State and, by extension, globalization.
On these grounds, they argue that Trump is actually resisting Americanization itself—even though his slogan is Make America Great Again.
But how much substance is there in this narrative?
Let us begin with the Deep State, the sensational “discovery” of populists over the past two decades.
The term deep state is used loosely and with shifting meanings, depending on the context. Broadly, it suggests that beyond elected governments and official institutions there exists a hidden network of power—composed of bureaucratic, military, intelligence, or economic elites—capable of steering, or even dictating, the real course of state policy.
Such a “discovery” is convincing only to those entirely ignorant of history, sociology, and politics.
Whatever one thinks of the virtues or flaws of electoral democracy, it has never been the case—nor could it ever be—that the fundamental structures of the state (bureaucracy, major economic interests) are reshaped by a vote.
Even in regimes where power was overwhelming, such as Nazi Germany, bureaucracy retained a life of its own and was extremely difficult to penetrate or reprogram.
All the more so today.
The “Deep State” has always existed
Even the smallest, most centralized governments require officials, soldiers, judges, diplomats, administrators. These apparatuses inevitably outlast electoral cycles and regime changes: a ministry employee or an army officer remains in post regardless of whether the president or monarch changes.
Thus, there is always a “permanent core” ensuring continuity of the state beyond day-to-day political shifts.
Economic power has always shaped political power.
From antiquity—the patricians of Rome, great merchants in the maritime republics, landowning aristocracies in feudal times—to the modern state, groups with wealth have always found ways to influence politics.
The intertwining of political and economic power is not an anomaly of recent times but a historical constant.
The real question is one of degree, not of presence.
What varies from state to state is the degree of autonomy these apparatuses possess—how far they can resist or adapt to the decisions of elected governments.
In some contexts (military regimes, or systems dominated by powerful lobbies), the permanent apparatus can exert decisive influence; in others, its impact is more limited and better regulated.
What makes today’s “Deep State” different?
There is indeed a difference compared with the past—not because the “Deep State” has seized power, but because the sociology of power itself has changed. For many reasons—demographic shifts, immigration, open markets, ease of travel—top-down authority has weakened everywhere.
Since the 1980s, another trend has accelerated: subsidiary power, or institutional deregulation, in which states intervene as little as possible, leaving responsibilities to local administrations or private actors, including NGOs.
We have entered a stage—one being pursued feverishly even by non-Western nations—in which national states operate halfway between the local and the global. Economic, cultural, and communicative interactions, together with global supply chains, have produced a condition in which the future role of the state is questioned—but certainly not that of the “Deep State.”
Trump’s own struggles show how dense this web has become: every move brings unintended consequences, forcing him to steer blindly.
Is the “Deep State” an ideological party in the service of some mysterious elite?
Back in 2002, in Nuovo Ordine Mondiale tra imperialismo e Impero (New World Order: Between imperialism and Empire), I noted that in a fragmented society, lobbies were taking root—not only the mighty financial and media lobbies, but any form of minority organization.
I also pointed out that not all financiers or media executives share the same ideology or zeal. Yet minority groups within them set the direction which, though not universally shared, soon becomes uniform.
For example—an evolution already visible then and confirmed since—the LGBT lobby eventually imposed its agenda simply because it was the only cause persistently pressed.
In short, while the majority of those within the “Deep State” or the lobbies are malleable, organized minorities have the power to reshape the whole. The “Deep State” is therefore never neutral.
These minorities often operate using Gramsci’s cultural strategy and Lenin’s organizational methods. Whether LGBT activists, communists, clericals, Jewish or Islamic communities, open society networks—the tactics remain the same.
Where there is no balance of power, such minorities even capture institutional authority. One striking example is the disruption caused by groups of judges intervening heavily in policy, holding institutions hostage.
Why the clash between “the people” and the “Deep State” or elites makes little sense
Some of the nostalgic reassertions proposed by American populism have the merit of forcing the issue into the open and of cutting funds to organized minorities that act ideologically.
But as a strategy for real change, this confrontation is not only insufficient—it is doomed to fail.
The “Deep State” cannot be dismantled; doing so would mean dismantling the very fabric of society and the state. What can be challenged are the subversive minorities that pollute institutions—but on what grounds? They cannot be targeted simply by designating a scapegoat (fascist, antifa, Jew, antisemite, Freemason, Satanist, globalist, jihadist, communist).
If the goal is to restore the state and regenerate society, then the response must be practical: acting directly in the field, without leaving hostile organized minorities an oligopoly over culture and administration.
As I have argued for a quarter of a century, to counterbalance lobbying subversion, neither demagoguery nor indignation will suffice unless there is an organized framework for what I call a “people’s lobby.”
Nature abhors a vacuum: unless citizens step actively and constructively into the arena, no correction will be possible—unless Providence intervenes. But providence belongs to the realm of faith, not of political action.
