Marco Rubio Has Gone to Moral Hell

The Secretary of State of the United States—chief diplomat of what was once a proud republic—has renamed the United States Institute of Peace after Donald Trump. Seriously. I’m not joking. Little Marco has performed sycophantic tribute, as matter of fact, to what he calls “the greatest dealmaker in our nation’s history” and “the President of Peace.”

The United States Institute of Peace stood for four decades as testament that some things transcend the man. That institutions serve the Constitution, not the person who temporarily wields its power. That peace belongs to the people, not to the leader who claims credit for its pursuit.

Marco Rubio has soiled it, in some kind of moral piss-stain, by renaming it the “Donald J. Trump Institute of Peace.”

Well, my friends, if this counts for civic virtue in what remains of the republic that we all love, then I must confess my despair for the corruption of the American heart. That it would allow this trespass over the sacrifice of all those who have willingly paid the ultimate price such that this nation may survive and thrive.

I take symbolism very seriously.

And this symbol—the domination of one man’s vanity upon a republic which now sits in embarrassment—is a predicate of patriotic rage within me.

Too many people have given their lives for this republic for this to stand.

I curse Marco Rubio.

I curse him to the ether-reaches of moral hell.

And you don’t come back from moral hell. In moral hell, you stay. A subject of eternal shame.

Never go there. It’s bad.

This is not politics. This is degradation. The systematic replacement of republican virtue with cult of personality. The kind of thing men do in authoritarian regimes where dignity has been so thoroughly surrendered that they’ve forgotten what dignity looks like.

Marco Rubio once understood what republics mean. He once opposed Trump as unfit. He once knew that free people don’t name institutions after leaders, that dignity matters more than power’s temporary approval, that some lines exist that men of principle don’t cross.

Now he smiles for cameras while announcing the “Donald J. Trump Institute of Peace.” Now he praises as peacemaker a man conducting extrajudicial killings without Congressional authorization. Now he says “the best is yet to come” while participating in cult of personality that would make Soviet propagandists blush.

This is complete moral surrender. The transformation of a human being with agency into a vessel for authoritarian glorification. The journey into moral hell that begins with calculation and ends with enthusiastic participation in your own degradation.

There is a place beyond political disagreement. Beyond partisan calculation. Beyond forgivable error. It’s the place where human dignity goes to die. Where principle becomes performance. Where men who once understood right from wrong choose wrong so completely they can no longer see the difference.

Marco Rubio is there now.

The soldiers who died at Normandy gave their lives so government institutions would serve the people, not glorify leaders. The patriots who fought for independence refused kingship because republics don’t name things after rulers. The founders built separated powers and constitutional constraints specifically to prevent this cult of personality from taking root.

Marco Rubio pissed on all of it. For what? For the hollow pleasure of the leader’s approval? For the temporary comfort of not having to resist? For the small satisfaction of being praised by sycophants who are themselves degraded beyond recognition?

Let this act follow him forever. Let every mention of Marco Rubio begin: “The man who renamed the Institute of Peace after Trump.” Let his legacy be exactly this degrading, this small, this pathetic.

May his grandchildren ask what he did during this time, and may the answer be documented in government records with perfect clarity: He participated enthusiastically in cult of personality. He renamed peace institutes after the leader. He smiled while doing it.

The warning stands clear: Never go to moral hell. Never trade dignity for power’s approval. Never participate in cult of personality even when convenient. Never surrender your capacity to see clearly even when seeing clearly costs everything.

Because once you’re there, you stay there.

Marco Rubio chose this. He walked through that door willingly, eagerly, with a smile.

I curse him to moral hell.

May this condemnation follow him through history. May his name become synonymous with degradation. May his choice be documented so thoroughly that no one can claim they didn’t know what he became.

The republic endures. The tent can be rebuilt. The wire still holds.

But Marco Rubio stays in moral hell.

Where shame is eternal. Where history’s judgment is merciless. Where he chose to go.

Witness it. Remember it. Condemn it.

Two plus two equals four. And some degradations cannot be forgiven.

I don’t know about the rest of you, but I stand with our forefathers in the project that we should orient towards a more perfect union, and that starts with character, with respect for the dignity of those who were felled in sacrifice to this country, not toleration of effigy to those who wear our colors like a hat.

You disgust me.

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