My Personal Philosophy: Ethno-Originalism

I’ve been pondering this for many months now, taking private notes, questioning why I believe what I believe, and sorting through my ideas without any intent to drive a narrative in the community or speak for anyone else. This isn’t about influencing others or claiming some big revelation—it’s simply me getting my thoughts on paper, for my own clarity. These reflections are 100% my own, in no way, shape, or form the thoughts of anyone else in the community.

I’ve talked to Ethic Americans to get their input on what they think the philosophy of Ethnic Americans is or should be, without sharing any of my own views—I like listening to them in order to understand their personal perspectives. I’ll have many more conversations like that in the future to see if we can find some consensus on a group philosophy down the line, but for right now, this is strictly my personal starting point.

My unnamed emerging philosophy until now, shaped by influences like Johann Gottfried Herder as my number one, Aristotle as number two, the Stoicism collective of Epictetus, Seneca, and Marcus Aurelius as number three, then John Locke, Baron de Montesquieu, and Carl Schmitt in that order. Through writings like “What is an Ethnic American?” and “The Great Ethnic American Displacement – Part X: The Immigration Conquest,” I’ve tried to express a simple belief in holding onto what our forebears built. I call this outlook Ethno-Originalism, but it’s deeply tied to the spirit of Americanism—the unique story of a nation founded by people of European descent, aiming for a shared life under laws that fit their ways. It’s not meant to be flashy or revolutionary; it’s about quiet strength in preserving what’s ours, and I see it as something any ethnic group could adapt for their own kith and kin, empowering them to carry forward their heritage in their homeland. After all, I believe the Creator designed nations this way, each with their own space to prosper without overstepping, so every people can thrive in harmony with that divine order.

Let me explain what I mean by Ethno-Originalism, step by step, like we’re just talking over coffee, weaving in how these thinkers have quietly shaped my views along the way. At its heart, it’s about two connected ideas: the “ethno” part, which is the natural bond of a people through shared ancestry, customs, language, and faith; and the “originalism” part, which means sticking closely to the original meaning of America’s founding documents. Think of the “ethno” as the family ties that make a community feel like home. For Ethnic Americans—folks like me, descended from the Europeans who settled here—it’s about recognizing that the country was set up as a place for “free white persons of good moral character,” as the 1790 Naturalization Act put it. That doesn’t mean hating others; it means understanding that strong nations come from people who share enough in common to trust each other, like a big family working together.

This draws heavily from my top influence, Johann Gottfried Herder, who in his Ideas for the Philosophy of the History of Humanity (often translated as “Outlines of a Philosophy of the History of Man”) portrayed cultures as unique, living organisms, each shaped by their history, environment, and spirit, needing protection to maintain their vitality and avoid dilution from outside forces—he saw humanity as a garden of diverse plants, each thriving best in its own soil.

Similarly, Aristotle, my second influence, in his Politics (Book V) explored how differences in backgrounds can lead to divisions in city-states, suggesting that a shared spirit from common roots helps keep peace and unity, as he analyzed revolutions and stressed homogeneity to prevent factionalism.

Building on that, the Stoic collective—Epictetus, Seneca, and Marcus Aurelius—comes in as my third influence, adding a layer of personal resilience and moral duty. Epictetus in his Discourses emphasized controlling what you can (your character and actions) while accepting external challenges, Seneca in his Letters advocated for virtue through endurance and self-discipline, and Marcus Aurelius in his Meditations reflected on fulfilling one’s role in the larger whole with quiet strength—these ideas echo in my view of Ethnic Americans enduring hardships like our ancestors did, turning adversity into a foundation for communal solidarity.

The originalism side is about treating the Constitution, the Federalist Papers, and those early laws like a family promise passed down. John Jay in Federalist No. 2 warned that mixing too many different backgrounds could lead to trouble, and I see that playing out today with things like open borders or policies that shift jobs overseas. In my articles, I point out how changes like the Hart-Celler Act or twists on the 14th Amendment feel like they’ve strayed from that original promise, turning immigration into a slow kind of takeover instead of careful growth. Here, John Locke influences me with his Two Treatises of Government, where he outlined natural rights and consent of the governed as a contract for a specific people, which I interpret as exclusive to the founding ethnos to protect liberty and property from tyranny.

But this isn’t about anger—it’s about fixing it through the rules we already have: stronger borders, no more giving away our resources to far-off places, and getting back to a government that serves its own people first. Baron de Montesquieu, in his The Spirit of the Laws, reinforced this with ideas on separation of powers and laws tailored to a people’s customs, warning against despotism and advocating republican virtue to safeguard a homogeneous society. And Carl Schmitt‘s The Concept of the Political adds a sharper edge, with his friend-enemy distinction highlighting how sovereignty means defending your group against existential threats, like framing immigration as a quiet war—which aligns with my calls for border reclamation without veering into excess. It’s all aimed at empowering us to keep going, to make sure our kids and grandkids inherit a place where they can thrive as part of this shared story. That’s why I wrote these articles for free—it’s my payment, and I feel it’s my duty to pass on these reflections, even if just for my own peace of mind.

And here’s the thing: while my focus is on America because that’s my home and my people’s story, the basic idea could work for anyone. Any ethnic group or nation could use something like this to strengthen their own bonds and future—it’s about each group looking after their own in their corner of the world, without stepping on others. That’s the empowerment: not domination, but steady furtherance, like tending a garden so it grows strong for generations. I truly believe this is how the Creator meant for all nations to flourish, each in their own way, respecting boundaries to build lasting prosperity.

Now, let’s turn to why I think this humble path of Ethno-Originalism offers more for Ethnic Americans than the ideas of Friedrich Nietzsche, someone many folks look up to as a guide for living boldly. Nietzsche wrote books like Thus Spoke Zarathustra and Beyond Good and Evil, pushing for people to break free from old rules and create their own strength. It’s exciting stuff, like imagining yourself as a superhero rising above the crowd. But when you dig in, especially if you’re just starting to think about life without much experience yet, his way can leave you feeling lost rather than grounded. Picture this: you’re a high school kid figuring out who you are, and someone tells you to smash everything familiar to find your power. Sounds adventurous, but what if it just leaves you wandering alone, without a map or friends?

Nietzsche redefined nihilism in a way that went beyond the old idea of simple despair or believing in nothing—he saw it as a cultural crisis where traditional values (like those from religion or morality) lose their hold because they’ve “devalued themselves,” leading to a world without built-in meaning.

He distinguished between two kinds of nihilism:

• Passive nihilism, where people react to this emptiness with resignation, hopelessness, withdrawal from life, or clinging to old comforts in a weakened state (like a weary acceptance that nothing matters, so why try); and
• Active nihilism, where someone embraces the destruction of old values as a powerful step toward creating new ones through their own will and strength. He thought active nihilism could be a sign of vitality, a hammer to smash outdated illusions and pave the way for something stronger, like the Übermensch who affirms life fully.

Sadly in practice, especially when older folks push twisted versions of it onto younger generations—often emphasizing the destructive side without the creative rebuilding—it often leads straight back to emptiness, encouraging a destructive cycle where nothing lasting gets built, steering eager minds toward self-defeating despair under the guise of enlightenment. What starts as “active” can slip into passive resignation if the will isn’t strong enough to truly create anew.

That’s where Ethno-Originalism steps in stronger. Nietzsche talks a lot about the “will to power”—this drive to grow and overcome, even if it means tearing down what’s around you. He sees life as a big, wild struggle where the strong make their own rules, and he knocks things like Christianity for making people too soft or resentful. But in my view, that’s like jumping into a stormy sea without a boat. For Ethnic Americans dealing with real stuff—like jobs going away or neighborhoods changing fast—we need something that builds us up together, not pulls us apart.

Ethno-Originalism’s “will to preservation” is about channeling that energy into protecting our shared home, using the Constitution as our steady guide. It’s not wandering through empty spaces where nothing has meaning (those “value-voids” Nietzsche leaves you in, where you’re constantly destroying without rebuilding, chasing personal highs that fizzle out and leave communities fractured, especially when misinterpreted to justify endless conflict without roots); it’s planting your feet on solid ground, drawing strength from your family’s history to face challenges head-on, creating a legacy that empowers your people for the long haul.

Take morality, for example. Nietzsche says we should go “beyond good and evil,” creating our own values instead of following the crowd’s. That might work if you’re all by yourself on a mountain, but in real life—like raising a family or building a community—it can turn into everyone doing their own thing, leading to confusion or fights. Ethno-Originalism keeps it simple: good moral character, tied to our Christian roots, isn’t a weakness—it’s what lets us trust each other and work as a team. Nietzsche might call that “herd thinking,” but think about it like this: if you’re on a sports team with no rules or loyalty, how do you win? My way empowers the group to move forward together, turning individual strength into something bigger that lasts, without the risk of it all dissolving into the kind of aimless void that some interpretations of Nietzsche promote, especially when they’re fed to impressionable young people by those who might not have their best interests at heart.

I know this will stir up strong pushback from folks who love Nietzsche’s fire, especially those who see his ideas as a call for total freedom or tough leadership without limits. They’ll say Ethno-Originalism is too safe, like hiding behind old papers instead of charging ahead. “Where’s the real power in sticking to the past?” they’ll ask, arguing that true strength comes from breaking everything to rebuild stronger, maybe even under one person’s vision to cut through the mess. They’ll claim my focus on community and faith is just hidden weakness, a way to avoid the hard truth that life is all conflict and the strong take what they want.

To those who twist Nietzsche toward extreme control, they’ll insist that only raw, unchecked will can save a people from decline, dismissing things like constitutions as chains—perhaps overlooking how such paths, when pushed by cynical elders on eager youth, often steer toward a redefined “nihilism” that’s really just self-defeating despair in disguise, where the “active” destruction never leads to true creation but loops back to passive withdrawal.

But let’s close those gaps with clear eyes. First off, Ethno-Originalism isn’t hiding—it’s strategic, like our Founders who balanced freedom with order to avoid falling into chaos or one-man rule. Nietzsche’s endless breaking might feel empowering at first, but without roots, it’s like building a house on sand; one storm, and it’s gone, leaving behind the very emptiness he tried to redefine away. For young folks with little experience, that’s a risky bet—better to start with a foundation that grows your people’s story than gamble on solo adventures that might leave you isolated, or worse, caught in a cycle of destruction peddled as enlightenment. To the leadership fans: sure, a strong guide can inspire, but history shows unchecked power often turns against its own. My way spreads the strength around, through laws that protect everyone in the ethnos, making us resilient without the danger of it all crumbling under one person’s flaws. And that “herd” label? It’s backwards—true empowerment comes from lifting your people up together, not leaving them behind in your quest for personal glory, especially when that quest gets warped into something that erodes hope rather than building it.

In the quiet of it all, Ethno-Originalism is just my way of saying: let’s honor what we have, empower our kin to keep it going, and let others do the same in their lands. It beats Nietzsche’s path for us because it turns ideas into everyday strength, not distant dreams that can lead astray. If you’re pondering life’s big questions, start here—with your roots—and see how far it takes you.

A Personal Note from the Author

These words are my humble attempt to capture what I’ve been mulling over in solitude for so long. Writing them down feels like fulfilling a small duty to myself and my posterity, nothing more. If they resonate with you, great—but remember, this is just one man’s starting thoughts.

© James Sewell 2026 – All rights reserved