When a society begins to hate its own history, redefine its enemy classes and treat the family as an obstacle, something more than ordinary politics is underway. Jack Posobiec claims these are not new developments but recognisable steps in a long-running revolutionary pattern first perfected by the Bolsheviks.

In a conversation with Seth Gruber, Posobiec draws direct lines from the Soviet Union’s early legalisation of abortion, its assault on the church and its dismantling of the family to contemporary cultural campaigns in the United States. For Australian Christians watching similar pressures at home, the historical parallels raise a practical question: how far down that path has the West already travelled?

Posobiec’s central claim is that envy, resentment and hatred arrive first; the political arguments come later as window-dressing. The word “unhuman” is deliberate. As a Catholic, he treats the impulse as demonic in origin: the conversion of the seven deadly sins into justified political programmes. Debate on the merits of policy is therefore largely futile. The real goal, he argues, is power achieved by dismantling the institutions that stand between the individual and the state.

The first warning sign he highlights is the attack on a nation’s history and public calendar. Columbus, national holidays and the major Christian festivals are systematically undermined so that people learn to despise the culture they inhabit. In their place appear new observances that serve the revolutionary narrative. The second step is the identification and demonisation of an enemy class. For the Bolsheviks it was the kulaks—the small landowners and prosperous peasants who possessed the means to resist. In today’s American cultural Marxism, Posobiec says, the primary target is the white, Christian, heterosexual, relatively affluent male. Assassinations or violence against members of that class are celebrated; the same acts against other demographic groups would not receive the same applause.

The church is the constant target. Posobiec recounts the systematic persecution of priests and nuns under the Bolsheviks, the extreme tortures designed not merely to kill but to force recantation of faith, and the parallel violence against religious in the Spanish Civil War and the French Revolution. He notes that these episodes are rarely taught in the West. The same hostility, he contends, appears in contemporary interruptions of church services and the cultural framing of orthodox Christian belief as a threat to democracy.

Family destruction is presented as equally deliberate. Posobiec cites Edmund Burke’s “little platoons” and Marx’s own call to abolish the nuclear family. Once the family is weakened—through the separation of children from parents, the erosion of fatherhood, and the promotion of ideologies that pit the sexes against each other—there remains little buffer between the citizen and state power. Abortion fits the same pattern: the Soviet Union was the first country to legalise it, framed as liberation from the “oppression of motherhood.” The slogans of 1917—peace, land and bread—find modern echoes in anti-war rhetoric, attacks on landlords and promises of free provision.

The conversation ends with Alexander Solzhenitsyn. Invited to Harvard in the 1970s, the Soviet dissident surprised his audience by warning that America was making parallel mistakes through materialism. Near the end of his life Solzhenitsyn summarised the Russian catastrophe in three words: “We forgot God.” Posobiec applies the same diagnosis to the present: institutions captured, God removed from public life, and a return to tribal warfare already visible in selective celebrations of political violence.

The analysis is forceful and historically detailed, yet it remains an argument rather than settled fact. Claims about the precise sequence of Bolshevik policy, the scale of religious persecution, and the direct continuity with contemporary American movements should be checked against primary sources. Posobiec’s framing also leaves limited room for legitimate reform or good-faith disagreement on the left; almost every cultural conflict is read as revolutionary strategy. Readers looking for a measured comparative history will need to supplement the conversation. What the episode does supply is a coherent interpretive lens that links spiritual, cultural and political diagnosis in a way many conservative Christians will find clarifying.