What if the American president’s seemingly outlandish claims on serve a higher purpose?
In a world caught between ecological limits and technological ambition, the revival of the long-dormant vision of the Technate suggests that America’s future may be shaped not by traditional geopolitics but by the pursuit of industrial autarky, resource control, and the promise of a self-sustaining technocratic order.
It was an unexpected move, bewildering analysts across the globe. After securing victory in the election, Donald Trump did not immediately focus on perceived strategic rivals like China, Russia, or Iran, as the geopolitical forecasters had so confidently predicted. Instead, his gaze settled on Canada, Greenland, and the Panama Canal – territories that, at first glance, seemed disconnected from the expected choreography of American foreign policy ambitions. This pivot raised a chorus of speculation and debate. Many theories were put forward. Yet, among the multitude of explanations, only one has managed to weave together the strands of Trump’s apparent unpredictability into a coherent narrative. This theory traces the logic of these moves back to a long-forgotten vision of a technocratic society that emerged in the early 20th century within the United States.
The roots of this idea, known as the “Technate,” lie in a vision of a society governed not by politicians or financiers but by scientists and engineers, guided by the principles of efficiency, technological mastery, and resource optimization. In the worldview of early technocrats, economic systems based on arbitrary currencies and speculative markets were seen as chaotic relics of the past. Instead, they proposed that energy itself – measurable and quantifiable – should serve as the basis for all economic transactions. The Technate would thus become a self-contained and self-sustaining entity, where wealth is defined by the availability of natural resources, the expertise of its inhabitants, and the seamless integration of technology with governance.
However, the Technate was never envisioned as something that could be established in just any location. It required a very particular environment – one with abundant natural resources, advanced industrial infrastructure, and a population trained to navigate the demands of a highly mechanized society. The ideal setting, according to early technocratic theorists, was North America, with its vast mineral wealth, fertile lands, and unmatched potential for hydroelectric and industrial power. Canada, with its rich deposits of metals and minerals, and Greenland, with its untapped reserves of rare earth elements, were integral to this vision. The Panama Canal, as the lifeline connecting the Atlantic and Pacific oceans, would further ensure the region’s strategic autonomy from global supply chains.
The German philosopher Georg Friedrich Jünger (1898-1977), in his profound critique of technology, warned against the unchecked dominance of mechanization over human life. His reflections, particularly in ‘The Failure of Technology’ (1949), highlighted the existential dangers of a world where technological systems become self-perpetuating, stripping individuals of their autonomy and reducing human life to mere cogs in a vast machine. Jünger’s critique is a somber reminder of the costs that accompany technological grandeur: the erosion of traditional values, the alienation of the individual, and the potential for technological regimes to evolve into forms of soft tyranny. However, what distinguishes the Technate from the dystopias Jünger warned against is its promise of harmony between human expertise and technological control. Rather than technology dominating life, it would be wielded as an instrument of collective flourishing, overseen by a technocratic elite attuned to the nuances of energy flows, ecological balance, and long-term sustainability.
Elon Musk’s indirect connection to this vision adds an intriguing twist to the story. Musk, known for his futurist ambitions and technological ventures, is the grandson of a former director of the Canadian branch of Technocracy Incorporated, an organization that once propagated these very ideas before its activities were curtailed by the Canadian government. Whether Musk consciously channels this legacy or not, his influence within Trump’s circle has evidently revived interest in the concept of a self-sustaining North American Technate. From this perspective, Trump’s desire to acquire Greenland and secure control over the Panama Canal becomes less of an eccentric detour and more of a calculated step towards fulfilling a technocratic vision that has long been dormant but never entirely forgotten.
Most political analysts initially interpreted Trump’s focus on these regions as part of his broader strategy of retrenchment, aimed at reducing US involvement in overseas conflicts and reorienting national priorities inward. They saw his rhetoric about Canada and Greenland as either bluster or opportunistic real estate maneuvering. Yet, when viewed through the lens of technocratic theory, a different logic emerges. Trump’s America, despite its rhetoric of self-sufficiency, cannot achieve industrial autarky with its current resource base. The energy-intensive industries that would power a new era of American greatness require access to mineral reserves, hydroelectric power, and strategic shipping routes. Canada’s vast natural wealth, Greenland’s potential as a future resource hub, and the Panama Canal’s role as a vital artery of trade are not peripheral concerns – they are central to the construction of a modern Technate.
For all his bluster and unpredictability, Trump’s overarching aim of “making America great again” fits seamlessly into this framework. By 2025, it seems, key figures in his administration have recognized that achieving this vision would require more than tax cuts and deregulation. It would demand the strategic acquisition of resources and infrastructure beyond America’s current borders – assets that could anchor a new era of technological and industrial expansion. The Technate, in this context, is not merely a speculative ideal but a pragmatic blueprint for securing national prosperity in an increasingly multipolar world.
Jünger would no doubt caution against the risks of such an endeavor, reminding us of the dangers of subordinating human life to technological imperatives. Yet, if the vision of the Technate can be tempered by a recognition of these dangers – if it can integrate technological efficiency without sacrificing human dignity – it may offer a path forward that reconciles technological modernity with the enduring need for meaning and community. While the early technocrats of the 20th century were often dismissed as utopian dreamers, their ideas have resurfaced at a moment when the world is once again grappling with questions of resource scarcity, ecological sustainability, and the limits of global interdependence.
Whether this order will achieve the balance envisioned by its architects or succumb to the warnings of critics like Jünger remains to be seen. What is clear, however, is that the dream of the Technate, long relegated to the margins of political thought, is once again shaping the contours of geopolitical reality. It is an ambitious project that, if successful, could redefine the parameters of global power in the decades to come.
