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In 1923, a group of intellectuals in Frankfurt, Germany, established what would later become known as the Frankfurt School. Created as a response to the perceived failures of traditional Marxism, this school of thought laid the foundation for what we now refer to as Critical Theory. At the time, its founders—comprised of Marxist thinkers—recognized that the goals of Revolutionary Socialism had faltered in Russia, and that the efforts of Revisionist Marxists to promote Marxism through parliamentary means were making little meaningful progress.
In response, these thinkers developed what came to be known as Freudo-Marxism—an ideological blend of Sigmund Freud’s psychoanalytic theories and Karl Marx’s socio-economic philosophies. The resulting framework, Critical Theory, held that societal structures—especially those rooted in Western traditions—were inherently oppressive and required change. Critical Theory suggests that most people (with the exception of the theorists themselves) suffer from some form of psychological distortion that must be corrected—whether through counseling, education, or even legal mechanisms—to ensure the long-term survival of society and economic equity.
The fusion of Freud’s focus on inner psychological conflict with Marx’s emphasis on external class struggle birthed a subversive and often antagonistic worldview. Rather than offering constructive reform, it launched a broad intellectual resistance movement against Western Civilization itself.
Western Civilization, traditionally understood, represents a synthesis of the most enduring legacies of Roman law, Judeo-Christian ethics, democratic governance, and classical liberal values. It is this unique convergence that has underpinned centuries of progress, human rights, scientific advancement, and economic mobility for countless societies around the world. The Frankfurt School’s Critical Theory challenged this foundation not with the aim of improving it, but with the intent to dismantle it.
As a result, what began as an academic movement in the early 20th century continues to influence many aspects of modern thought, education, and politics—often framing traditional institutions and cultural norms as barriers to justice, rather than as the bedrock of prosperity and freedom.
When Hitler rose to power in Germany, he did so as a self-proclaimed socialist, yet quickly turned against those who didn’t share his nationalist ideology. This political shift made it unsafe for many intellectuals who held opposing views—including those from the Frankfurt School. Although their worldview aligned in some ways with socialism, the Frankfurt School’s Marxist orientation and criticism of authoritarianism put them at odds with the Nazi regime. As a result, they fled Germany and relocated to the United States. They eventually settled at Columbia University in New York City, where they remained until 1949, when the school returned to Frankfurt after World War II.
During their time in America, the Frankfurt School continued to develop and spread the ideas of Critical Theory. This ideology criticizes and seeks to dismantle many of the pillars of Western society—namely corporations, Judeo-Christian values, the nuclear family, technological progress, industrial development, and capitalism. According to Critical Theory, these institutions don’t promote freedom or advancement but instead give rise to what they label as “authoritarian personalities.”
But what exactly is meant by an “authoritarian personality” in this context? The definition, as framed by Critical Theorists, may surprise you. A person with an authoritarian personality is described as someone who:
Lives according to the rule of law
Has clear expectations for subordinates or dependents
Adopts collective beliefs or behavior without moral questioning
Prefers structure and formality
Resists the freedoms or ideas of others
Opposes change and innovation
Seeks consistency and order
Accepts prevailing ideologies without personal evaluation—otherwise known as groupthink
This definition is striking because it casts traditionally positive traits—like stability, respect for law, and personal responsibility—as symptoms of psychological dysfunction. The concept of “groupthink,” a term that sounds like something out of George Orwell’s 1984, refers to the pressure people feel—either socially or legally—to conform to an ideology or political movement. In this worldview, even a preference for tradition or order can be considered oppressive.
Critical Theory doesn’t merely critique unjust systems—it often targets the very behaviors and beliefs that allow societies to function cohesively. By challenging the norms that support personal accountability and community values, it sets the stage for the kind of radical cultural shifts we’ve seen in many institutions today.
Interestingly, while Critical Theory condemns traits like structure, morality, tradition, and personal responsibility, it relies on these very mechanisms to exert influence over culture and society. Through a calculated strategy, it uses the law to enforce ideological changes, redefines language to alter meaning, sets rigid expectations for those deemed “oppressed,” and promotes herd mentality via mass media, technology, and political channels. It undermines long-standing moral values by twisting the concept of freedom into something fluid and subjective, advocates for constant cultural upheaval, and engineers chaos as a means of control. At the heart of this manipulation lies groupthink—what we more commonly refer to today as Cancel Culture.
Cancel Culture, a direct outgrowth and practical tool of Critical Theory, has now gained influence across nearly every major institution. It dominates the mainstream media, entertainment industries like Hollywood, educational systems, political discourse, and even many modern religious institutions. Its reach doesn’t stop there—it has infiltrated families, shaped corporate culture, steered technological development, and facilitated the rise of bureaucratic, state-run monopolies. In doing so, it erodes the values of Western Civilization—values that once empowered people to rise above mere survival and pursue lives of purpose, security, and abundance.
Among the many fruits of Western Civilization is the concept of life insurance. While often overlooked, life insurance is a meaningful advancement in humanity’s quest to create stability and reduce suffering. It allows individuals and families to face the uncertainties of life with less financial stress and anxiety. The idea itself is not new—it can be traced back to ancient Rome, where members of the Senate developed early forms of financial protection for families left behind by deceased providers. Life insurance, then, is more than just a financial product; it is a testament to a cultural mindset that prioritizes responsibility, care for others, and long-term security—values that stand in stark contrast to the chaos promoted by Critical Theory.
Life insurance—both in the past and today—is a model built on community. At its heart, it’s about like-minded people coming together to support one another during life’s most difficult moments. Though its origins can be traced to ancient Rome, the concept has evolved over centuries. Western Civilization refined the idea, generation after generation, adding structure, legal protections, and scientific principles. What we have today is a mature, reliable financial tool: life insurance based on actuarial science, safeguarded by contractual law, and backed by financially sound companies dedicated to honoring those contracts.
Like many other cornerstones of Western values, life insurance hasn’t gone unchallenged. In recent decades, it has come under fire from movements aligned with Cancel Culture. These movements tend to reject traditional responsibilities—especially those tied to family, legacy, and long-term planning—in favor of more individualistic and transient pursuits.
A striking example of this cultural shift occurred under the influence of Eliot Spitzer, former attorney general and later governor of New York. Though his political career ended in disgrace following a federal prostitution scandal, his time in office left a lasting impact. Using his legal authority, Spitzer pushed for regulatory and cultural changes that subtly undermined the traditional view of life insurance—not by banning it outright, but by reframing its relevance. Rather than promoting the moral obligation of providing for one’s family, the emphasis shifted toward prioritizing self-interest, retirement comfort, and short-term gratification.
Popular culture followed suit. Consider the 1960 film The Apartment, in which Jack Lemmon plays a low-level employee at a life insurance company who lends out his apartment to higher-ups for their extramarital affairs. Though comedic on the surface, the film casts a shadow over the industry, portraying life insurance executives as corrupt and morally compromised. It was one of Hollywood’s early contributions to the deconstruction of life insurance culture—a subtle yet effective attack on a system that was once seen as a pillar of responsibility, integrity, and familial love.
These attacks, whether political or cinematic, are part of a broader trend to disconnect people from values that once gave meaning and stability to life. Life insurance is not merely a financial product; it is a cultural artifact that speaks to duty, care, and foresight. When that foundation is eroded—when the importance of protecting your loved ones is dismissed as outdated or unnecessary—we risk more than just lost policies. We lose the ethos that made such protection a societal norm.
In defending and promoting life insurance, we are also defending something larger: the belief that thinking beyond oneself, preparing for the future, and securing the well-being of loved ones are not just practical decisions—they are acts of nobility.
Yet Hollywood has frequently chosen to malign this tradition. In Double Indemnity, Fred MacMurray plays a life insurance agent who conspires with a client’s wife to murder her husband for the death benefit—a chilling distortion of the industry’s purpose. In Fletch, Groundhog Day, and The Postman Always Rings Twice, life insurance is again framed as either a joke, a plot device for deception, or a relic to be exploited. These portrayals, though fictional, collectively chip away at public perception, encouraging cynicism toward a product once associated with personal responsibility and legacy.
Is it any surprise, then, that so many people today believe life insurance is something “for the next guy”?
Cancel Culture—Critical Theory in action—has done more to undermine upward mobility around the world than many wars throughout history. It rejects values like sacrifice, discipline, and long-term thinking in favor of immediate gratification and moral relativism. If we were to call it what it truly represents, it might be better named “A Return to Barbarism—With No Quarter Given.”
Human progress thrives when we recognize that, though people are imperfect, they are capable of great good. A thriving culture adopts the good, learns from the bad, and builds a better future. But when society begins discarding the good simply because it came from flawed people—as all people are—it leaves everyone isolated and distrusting, unable to aspire to anything greater than self-preservation.
Western Civilization, for all its flaws, is grounded in the principle that people can rise by lifting others. It embraces ideals like the Golden Rule: “Do to others as you would have them do to you.” Life insurance, at its core, is an application of that principle—caring for others, even beyond your own lifetime.
To reject it wholesale because of who created or promoted it is to miss the point—and to deprive future generations of a simple but powerful way to show love, responsibility, and vision.
Today, our culture teeters on the edge of barbarism. You don’t have to look far to see it—just spend ten minutes scrolling through social media, listening to elected officials, watching the news, or tuning in to a talk show. The reason for this cultural unraveling can be traced back to Critical Theory. It has redefined the meaning of family, rewritten laws, dismantled long-standing moral principles, and corrupted the core values that built Western Civilization—values that enabled upward mobility for people of all backgrounds across the globe.
Those who still believe in the principles of Western Civilization—and reject what Cancel Culture is doing to our world—understand the value of life insurance. Life insurance isn’t just a financial tool; it’s a cultural pillar. It protects the ones we love and reflects a mindset rooted in responsibility, foresight, and care. In many ways, it supports a more abundant life—not just for policyholders, but for future generations who benefit from that legacy.
Tomas P. McFie DC PhD
Tom McFie is the founder of McFie Insurance and co-host of the WealthTalks podcast which helps people keep more of the money they make, so they can have financial peace of mind. He has reviewed 1000s of whole life insurance policies and has practiced the Infinite Banking Concept for nearly 20 years, making him one of the foremost experts on achieving financial peace of mind. His latest book, A Biblical Guide to Personal Finance, can be purchased here.