For reasons inexplicable to me, we all try to evaluate the processes taking place on the political Olympus as the most difficult chess game. Rarely, when the situation seems to be as dramatic as possible, do we forget about chess and instead see an ancient Greek tragedy, the confrontation between the worthy Hector and Achilles. At first glance, it seems like this: the best among the best—smart, strong, brave—fighting for the right to improve our lives and doing things beyond the capabilities of any mere mortal.

However, any careful observer quickly realizes that behind the palaces, processions, private security, and seemingly tragic grandeur, a daytime soap opera is hidden. Yet, I see a completely different picture—no chess game, no heroes and gods, no soap opera; just a lame, disgusting farce. Typically, this farce is veiled, with power-driven individuals skillfully hiding their true nature, but time and time again, events occur that lay bare their ugly nature. In my opinion, Thursday's debate was just such an event.

I didn't expect anything from two obviously outdated figures except uncontrolled aggression and meaningless boasting. The reality fully met my expectations and did not merit further consideration. The interesting events started after the debate. Two main patches of reactions emerged: "panic among the supporters" and "one failed night means nothing." Some readers might find my assessment of this crucial political event harsh, but before you cast the first stone, let me explain my position.

Regarding the panic, I ask—Really? Did you not expect that a weakened, buffoonish figure would perform so catastrophically? Or did you think no one would notice? If so, the situation is even more dire than I imagined. Among the "panickers," there is one particularly amusing category—those who seriously call for the old man to withdraw his candidacy. Interesting! Where were you when he shouted "I want, want, want"? Why didn't you appeal to his patriotic feelings then? Why did you contribute 180 million to his fund? These questions are rhetorical, but they are timely and relevant.

So far, we've only discussed the reaction of the political and economic elite. This reaction may be honest, paranoid, or absurd, but it remains the reaction of a small part of the population. If we have the courage to face reality, we will see the ordinariness of the candidates, the debates, and the reactions to them. In my opinion, today, a traditional, repeatedly repeated struggle for feudal power—based on personal interests—is taking place. Many other similar stories can be mentioned, but for some reason, I went to England in 1455-1487. Evaluating today's events through the lens of the rivalry between the Yorks and Lancasters, everything becomes very clear: the undisguised hatred of the candidates towards each other, the unconditional support of the candidates by their inner circles, the selection of candidates based not on common interests (everyone has forgotten what Res Publica means) but on factional interests, and the complete polarization of the political elite.

This perspective easily explains the reactions to the debate as well. But there's one big "but" here—we haven't been living in a monarchy for a very long time. Moreover, we have declared that we live in a republic, where the source of power is not God, not money, not posterity, or any other archaic institution, but the people. That is why I have a whole series of questions. How did this become possible? How did the people of a beautiful, strong, proud country allow this farce to unfold in real life? Why couldn't three hundred and thirty-three million people find better candidates than modern incarnations of Nero and Attila the Hun?

No matter how much we try to blame bad candidates on conspiracy theories, elites, or other forces, it is still our fault. With the help of approximately 54 million people in 2020 and over 21 million people in 2024 who participated in the primaries and caucuses, we chose these candidates. This substantial voter participation indicates that it is not some shadowy cabal but our collective decision-making—or lack thereof—that has brought us to this point. Each of us must confront this reality and ask ourselves how we can do better.

The real tragedy is not in the farce we see on stage but in our passive acceptance of it. The responsibility lies not just with the power-crazed clowns who parade as leaders but with every one of us who allows them to take the stage. We must move beyond cynicism and apathy. We must demand better and engage more deeply with the political process, not just as voters but as active participants in our democracy. It is time to recognize our power and use it wisely.

In the end, the question isn't why these figures are on the stage; it's why we, the audience, keep buying tickets to the same tired show. It’s time to change the script, to choose leaders who genuinely represent our values and aspirations. The future of our republic depends on it.

I was going to end with this call because further reflections are painful enough, both for me and probably for my readers. But I fully share Kant's opinion: "If the truth shall kill them, let them die." So I'll just say it—there is a high probability that we are not just passive observers of this entire clown show. If we think about it, several very uncomfortable questions arise: Maybe these old, evil clowns actually do represent us perfectly? Perhaps we, as a society, are aggressive, hateful, and merciless ourselves? Is it possible that we choose such people as our representatives because they reflect our own hopes and aspirations? If so, then we must confront a harsh reality: the need for change isn't just in our leaders, but in ourselves. This self-reflection might be the most critical step towards building a better future. Until we address our own shortcomings, we will continue to elect those who mirror them. This, then, is not just a political crisis but a moral one, demanding introspection and a commitment to personal and collective growth.