Politics usually bores people with talk of tax brackets, zoning laws, and infrastructure spending. That isn’t the case in Colorado this year. The Republican Party’s choice for governor, Victor Marx, has effectively turned the state’s gubernatorial race into a surreal spectacle that feels more like a horror movie script than a standard campaign for executive office.
Marx isn’t your typical establishment candidate. He doesn’t talk about policy nuances. Instead, his campaign centers on a traumatic and deeply bizarre personal history—one involving claims of voodoo, ritualistic abuse, and a confession that he killed a person when he was just seven years old. While his supporters see a man transformed by redemption, critics and political analysts are sounding the alarm. They argue his candidacy signals a disturbing trend toward political nihilism, where shock value replaces governance as the primary currency of the ballot box.
The narrative of a troubled past
To understand why Marx is a political lightning rod, you have to look at the stories he tells about himself. He has built a career as an author, speaker, and filmmaker focusing on the plight of traumatized children. His official campaign website and various media appearances highlight a childhood he describes as horrific.
He claims he grew up in an environment saturated with occult practices. According to his public accounts, he was subjected to what he terms ritualistic abuse. Most shockingly, he has publicly stated that at the age of seven, he was forced or coerced into taking a life.
These claims are difficult to verify. Law enforcement records from the era and locations he cites remain private or nonexistent, which allows his supporters to treat his story as a testament to personal survival. Skeptics, however, point to the lack of corroborating evidence as a red flag. In any other election cycle, a candidate making these kinds of claims would be laughed off the stage. Today, it’s being framed as "authenticity."
How trauma became a campaign platform
Marx is tapping into a specific vein of modern American populism. Many voters today feel disconnected from the polished, rehearsed responses of career politicians. They want raw, unfiltered human struggle. By positioning his own life as a series of near-death experiences and narrow escapes from darkness, Marx bypasses the need for a traditional platform.
He isn't campaigning on how he will manage the Colorado budget. He is campaigning on the idea that he has fought literal "evil" and won.
This strategy effectively silences opposition. If a journalist asks him about his plan for state water rights, he can pivot to his history of survival. If a rival challenges his lack of legislative experience, he can lean into his narrative of overcoming systemic corruption. It creates a closed loop where the candidate’s personal story is the only thing that matters, insulating him from the mundane but essential requirements of the job.
The rise of political nihilism
Observers are calling this brand of candidacy "political nihilism." This isn't just about a strange candidate; it is about a shift in what voters demand from their leaders. When voters stop believing that government can solve problems like inflation or healthcare, they stop looking for problem-solvers. They start looking for entertainers or provocateurs who validate their anger.
Marx represents a gamble. The Colorado Republican Party is betting that voters are so disillusioned with the status quo that they will ignore his lack of political track record and the extreme nature of his personal claims. They are betting that "different" is better than "experienced."
This approach carries significant risks. A governor manages thousands of employees, navigates complex legislative sessions, and oversees a state economy worth hundreds of billions of dollars. None of these tasks require the skills of an exorcist or the ability to narrate a tragic past. They require administrative competence, the ability to build coalitions, and a grounded understanding of the law.
What this means for the midterms
The Colorado gubernatorial race is becoming a national litmus test. If Marx wins, it proves that the traditional guardrails of American politics have collapsed. It would signal that personal branding, no matter how extreme, now outweighs the need for proven executive capability.
For the average voter, the situation is frustrating. You have one side offering a candidate whose history reads like a sensationalist thriller, and you have to weigh whether that person can handle the actual mechanics of state government.
If you are trying to make sense of this cycle, ignore the noise for a moment. Look past the stories of voodoo and the dark childhood anecdotes. Ask yourself three basic questions:
- Does this person have a clear plan for the state budget? Most of the rhetoric surrounding Marx avoids fiscal specifics entirely.
- Has this candidate managed a large-scale organization? Experience in the private sector or local government is a baseline requirement for a reason—it teaches the hard lesson that you cannot simply "will" results into existence.
- What is the focus of their advertisements? If 90% of the messaging is about the candidate’s past rather than the state’s future, you aren’t looking at a governing agenda; you’re looking at a personality cult.
Colorado voters have a choice in November. They can choose to continue down the path of ideological theater, or they can demand a candidate who speaks to the realities of running a state. The danger of political nihilism is that once you burn down the standards of what a leader should be, it becomes nearly impossible to rebuild them.
