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military-industrial complex
To Avoid Spiritual Death We Must End American Militarism—Now
America, from visionaries and prophets like MLK, we have our marching orders. They are not to invest yet more in preparations for war, whether with China or any other country.
Apr 05, 2025
I read the news today, oh boy. About a lucky man named Elon Musk. But he lost out on one thing: He didn’t get a top secret briefing on Pentagon war plans for China. And the news people breathed a sigh of relief.
With apologies to John Lennon and The Beatles, a day in the life is getting increasingly tough to take here in the land of the free. I’m meant to be reassured that Musk didn’t get to see America’s top-secret plans for—yes!—going to war with China, even as I’m meant to ignore the constant drumbeat of propaganda, the incessant military marches that form America’s background music, conveying the message that America must have war plans for China, that indeed war in or around China is possible, even probable, in the next decade. Maybe in 2027?
My fellow Americans, we should be far more alarmed by such secret U.S. war plans, along with those “pivots” to Asia and the Indo-Pacific, and the military base-building efforts in the Philippines, than reassured by the “good news” that Comrade Billionaire Musk was denied access to the war room, meaning (for Dr. Strangelove fans) he didn’t get to see “the big board.”
If you judge him by deeds rather than words, he’s just another U.S. commander-in-chief enamored of the military and military force (whatever the cost, human or financial).
It’s war, war, everywhere in America. We do indeed have a strange love for it. I’ve been writing for TomDispatch for 18 years now—this is my 111th essay (the other 110 are in a new book of mine)—most of them focusing on militarism in this country, as well as our disastrous wars in Iraq, Afghanistan, and elsewhere; the ruinous weapons systems we continue to fund (including new apocalyptic nuclear weapons); and the war song that seems to remain ever the same.
A few recent examples of what I mean: President Donald Trump has already bombed Yemen more than once. He’s already threatening Iran. He’s sending Israel all the explosives, all the weaponry it needs to annihilate the Palestinians in Gaza (so too, of course, did former President Joe Biden). He’s boasting of building new weapons systems like the Air Force’s much-hyped F-47 fighter jet, the “47” designation being an apparent homage by its builder, Boeing, to Trump himself, the 47th president. He and his “defense” secretary, Pete Hegseth, continually boast of “peace through strength,” an Orwellian construction that differs little from “war is peace.” And I could, of course, go on and on and on and on…
Occasionally, Trump sounds a different note. When Tulsi Gabbard became the director of national intelligence, he sang a dissonant note about a “warmongering military-industrial complex.” And however haphazardly, he does seem to be working for some form of peace with respect to the Russia-Ukraine War. He also talks about his fear of a cataclysmic nuclear war. Yet, if you judge him by deeds rather than words, he’s just another U.S. commander-in-chief enamored of the military and military force (whatever the cost, human or financial).
Consider here the much-hyped Department of Government Efficiency( DOGE) led by that lucky man Elon Musk. Even as it dismantles various government agencies like the Department of Education and USAID, it has—no surprise here!—barely touched the Pentagon and its vast, nearly trillion-dollar budget. In fact, if a Republican-controlled Congress has any say in the matter, the Pentagon budget will likely be boosted significantly for Fiscal Year 2026 and thereafter. As inefficient as the Pentagon may be (and we really don’t know just how inefficient it is, since the bean counters there keep failing audit after audit, seven years running), targeted DOGE Pentagon cuts have been tiny. That means there’s little incentive for the generals to change, streamline their operations, or even rethink in any significant fashion. It’s just spend, spend, spend until the money runs out, which I suppose it will eventually, as the national debt soars toward $37 trillion and climbing.
Even grimmer than that, possibly, is America’s state of mind, our collective zeitgeist, the spirit of this country. That spirit is one in which a constant state of war (and preparations for more of the same) is accepted as normal. War, to put it bluntly, is our default state. It’s been that way since 9/11, if not before then. As a military historian, I’m well aware that the United States is, in a sense, a country made by war. It’s just that today we seem even more accepting of that reality, or resigned to it, than we’ve ever been. What gives?
Remember when, in 1963, Alabama Governor George Wallace said, “Segregation now, segregation tomorrow, and segregation forever”? Fortunately, after much struggle and bloodshed, he was proven wrong. So, can we change the essential American refrain of war now, war tomorrow, and war forever? Can we render that obsolete? Or is that too much to hope for or ask of America’s “exceptional” democracy?
Taking on the MICIMATT(SH)
Former CIA analyst Ray McGovern did America a great service when he came up with the acronym MICIMATT, or the Military-Industrial-Congressional-Intelligence-Media-Academia-Think-Tank complex, an extension of former President Dwight D. Eisenhower’s military-industrial complex, or MIC (from his farewell speech in 1961). Along with the military and industry (weapons makers like Boeing and Lockheed Martin), the MICIMATT adds Congress (which Eisenhower had in his original draft speech but deleted in the interest of comity), the intelligence “community” (18 different agencies), the media (generally highly supportive of wars and weapons spending), academia (which profits greatly from federal contracts, especially research and development efforts for yet more destructive weaponry), and think tanks (which happily lap up Pentagon dollars to tell us the “smart” position is always to prepare for yet more war).
You’ll note, however, that I’ve added a parenthetical SH to McGovern’s telling acronym. The S is for America’s sporting world, which eternally gushes about how it supports and honors America’s military, and Hollywood, which happily sells war as entertainment (perhaps the best known and most recent film being Tom Cruise’s Top Gun: Maverick, in which an unnamed country that everyone knows is Iran gets its nuclear ambitions spanked by a plucky team of U.S. Naval pilots). A macho catchphrase from the original Top Gun was “I feel the need—the need for speed!” It may as well have been: I feel the need—the need for pro-war propaganda!
Yes, MICIMATT(SH) is an awkward acronym, yet it has the virtue of capturing some of the still-growing power, reach, and cultural penetration of Ike’s old MIC. It should remind us that it’s not just the military and the weapons-makers who are deeply invested in war and—yes!—militarism. It’s Congress; the CIA; related intel “community” members; the mainstream media (which often relies on retired generals and admirals for “unbiased” pro-war commentary); academia (consider how quickly institutions like Columbia University have bent the knee to Trump); and think tanks—in fact, all those “best and brightest” who advocate for war with China, the never-ending war on terror, war everywhere.
Wage war long and it’s likely you can kiss your democracy, your rights, and just maybe your ass goodbye.
But perhaps the “soft power” of the sporting world and Hollywood is even more effective at selling war than the hard power of bombs and bullets. National Football League coaches patrol the sidelines wearing camouflage, allegedly to salute the troops. Military flyovers at games celebrate America’s latest death-dealing machinery. Hollywood movies are made with U.S. military cooperation and that military often has veto power over scripts. To cite only one example, the war movie 12 Strong (2018) turned the disastrous Afghan War that lasted two horrendous decades into a stunningly quick American victory, all too literally won by U.S. troops riding horses. (If only the famed cowboy actor John Wayne had still been alive to star in it!)
The MICIMATT(SH), employing millions of Americans, consuming trillions of dollars, and churning through tens of thousands of body bags for U.S. troops over the years, while killing millions of people abroad, is an almost irresistible force. And right now, it seems like there’s no unmovable object to blunt it.
Believe me, I’ve tried. I’ve written dozens of “Tomgrams” suggesting steps America could take to reverse militarism and warmongering. As I look over those essays, I see what still seem to me sensible ideas, but they die quick deaths in the face of, if not withering fire from the MICIMATT(SH), then being completely ignored by those who matter.
And while this country has a department of war (disguised as a department of defense), it has no department of peace. There’s no budget anywhere for making peace, either. We do have a colossal Pentagon that houses 30,000 workers, feverishly making war plans they won’t let Elon Musk (or any of us) see. It’s for their eyes only, not yours, though they may well ask you or your kids to serve in the military, because the best-laid plans of those war-men do need lots of warm bodies, even if those very plans almost invariably (Vietnam, Afghanistan, Iraq, etc.) go astray.
So, to repeat myself, how do you take on the MICIMATT(SH)? The short answer: It’s not easy, but I know of a few people who had some inspirational ideas.
On Listening to Ike, JFK, MLK, and, Yes, Madison, Too
Militarism isn’t exactly a new problem in America. Consider Randolph Bourne’s 1918 critique of war as “the health of the state,” or General Smedley Butler’s confession in the 1930s that “war is a racket” run by the “gangsters of capitalism.” In fact, many Americans have, over the years, spoken out eloquently against war and militarism. Many beautiful and moving songs have asked us to smile on your brother and “love one another right now.” War, as Edwin Starr sang so powerfully once upon a time, is good for “absolutely nothin’,” though obviously a lot of people disagree and indeed are making a living by killing and preparing for yet more of it.
And that is indeed the problem. Too many people are making too much money off of war. As Smedley Butler wrote so long ago: “Capital won’t permit the taking of the profit out of war until the people—those who do the suffering and still pay the price—make up their minds that those they elect to office shall do their bidding, and not that of the profiteers.” Pretty simple, right? Until you realize that those whom we elect are largely obedient to the moneyed class because the highest court in our land has declared that money is speech. Again, I didn’t say it was going to be easy. Nor did Butler.
As a retired lieutenant colonel in the U.S. Air Force, I want to end my 111th piece at TomDispatch by focusing on the words of Ike, John F. Kennedy (JFK), Martin Luther King, Jr. (MLK), and James Madison. And I want to redefine what words like duty, honor, country, and patriotism should mean. Those powerful words and sentiments should be centered on peace, on the preservation and enrichment of life, on tapping “the better angels of our nature,” as Abraham Lincoln wrote so long ago in his First Inaugural Address.
Why do we serve? What does our oath of office really mean? For it’s not just military members who take that oath but also members of Congress and indeed the president himself. We raise our right hands and swear to support and defend the U.S. Constitution against all enemies, foreign and domestic, to bear true faith and allegiance to the same.
There’s nothing in that oath about warriors and warfighters, but there is a compelling call for all of us, as citizens, to be supporters and defenders of representative democracy, while promoting the general welfare (not warfare), and all the noble sentiments contained in that Constitution. If we’re not seeking a better and more peaceful future, one in which freedom may expand and thrive, we’re betraying our oath.
If so, we have met the enemy—and he is us.
Ike told us in 1953 that constant warfare is no way of life at all, that it is (as he put it), humanity crucifying itself on a cross of iron. In 1961, he told us democracy was threatened by an emerging military-industrial complex and that we, as citizens, had to be both alert and knowledgeable enough to bring it to heel. Two years later, JFK told us that peace—even at the height of the Cold War—was possible, not just peace in our time, but peace for all time. However, it would, he assured us, require sacrifice, wisdom, and commitment.
How, in fact, can I improve on these words that JFK uttered in 1963, just a few months before he was assassinated?
What kind of peace do we seek? Not a Pax Americana enforced on the world by American weapons of war. Not the peace of the grave or the security of the slave. I am talking about genuine peace, the kind of peace that makes life on Earth worth living…
I speak of peace because of the new face of war. Total war makes no sense in an age… when the deadly poisons produced by a nuclear exchange would be carried by wind and water and soil and seed to the far corners of the globe and to generations yet unborn… surely the acquisition of such idle [nuclear] stockpiles—which can only destroy and never create—is not the only, much less the most efficient, means of assuring peace.
I speak of peace, therefore, as the necessary rational end of rational men. I realize that the pursuit of peace is not as dramatic as the pursuit of war—and frequently the words of the pursuer fall on deaf ears. But we have no more urgent task.
Are we ready to be urgently rational, America? Are we ready to be blessed as peacemakers? Or are we going to continue to suffer from what MLK described in 1967 as our very own “spiritual death” due to the embrace of militarism, war, empire, and racism?
Of course, MLK wasn’t perfect, nor for that matter was JFK, who was far too enamored of the Green Berets and too wedded to a new strategy of “flexible response” to make a clean break in Vietnam before he was killed. Yet those men bravely and outspokenly promoted peace, something uncommonly rare in their time—and even more so in ours.
More than 200 years ago, James Madison warned us that continual warfare is the single most corrosive force to the integrity of representative democracy. No other practice, no other societal force is more favorable to the rise of authoritarianism and the rule of tyrants than pernicious war. Wage war long and it’s likely you can kiss your democracy, your rights, and just maybe your ass goodbye.
America, from visionaries and prophets like MLK, we have our marching orders. They are not to invest yet more in preparations for war, whether with China or any other country. Rather, they are to gather in the streets and otherwise raise our voices against the scourge of war. If we are ever to beat our swords into plowshares and our spears into pruning hooks and make war no more, something must be done.
Let’s put an end to militarism in America. Let’s be urgently rational. To cite John Lennon yet again: You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one. Together, let’s imagine and create a better world.
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Can the Voices of A-Bomb Victims Drown out the Military-Industrial Complex?
Let us listen to those who have suffered the most. Let us hear the cry of their throbbing souls and begin to understand that the time has come for us to create a world beyond dominance and war.
Mar 16, 2025
When the powerful speak, mushroom clouds emerge—oh so easily. Power is about conquest; winning the war, getting what you want no matter the cost.
For instance, Israel should nuke Gaza. “Do whatever you have to do.” Thus declared Sen. Lindsey Graham (R-S.C.) last year in a “Meet the Press” interview, comparing the current genocide in Palestine to the U.S. decision to end World War II by A-bombing Hiroshima and Nagasaki. “That was the right decision,” he said, spewing out the historical abstraction that still rules the world.
Nothing is more sacred than self-defense! And nothing is more necessary for that than nuclear weapons, at least for the countries that possess them. To think beyond this abstraction—to cry out against the pain of the victims and declare their use is potential human suicide—violates the political norm of the powerful and is easily categorized by the media, often sarcastically, as naïve.
“I realized my pain was not only my pain but other people’s pain.”
And thus we’re stuck in a MAD world, apparently: a world under unending threat of mutually assured destruction. If you have a problem with that, you’re probably a weakling singing “Kumbaya.”
Or so the global war machine wants us to believe, reducing humanity’s anti-nuke—antiwar—sanity to a hollow hope.
It is in this context that I heard Sim Jintae and Han Jeong-Soon speak at a small event the other day in suburban Chicago, sponsored by an organization called—brace yourself—The International People’s Tribunal to hold the U.S. accountable for dropping A-bombs. The two speakers (via translator) are Korean victims of the bombs the U.S. dropped on Hiroshima nearly eight decades ago. Sim Jintae is a first-generation survivor: He was two-years-old when the bomb was dropped. Han Jeong-Soon is a second-generation survivor—the child of survivors of the inferno, who has suffered throughout her life from the aftereffects of the bombing. Their message: Nuclear war lasts forever!
Well, that’s part of their message. Note: The movement they represent is Korean. A little known fact about the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki is that thousands of Koreans were what you might call doubly victimized by the horror. This was during an era when Japan had colonial control over Korea, and some 100,000 Koreans had been forcibly moved to Japan to do wartime labor. Many of them, including Sim Jintae’s parents, had been working in a munitions factory in Hiroshima.
About 40,000 Koreans died in the bombings. Those who survived suffered the aftereffects in silence... until they reclaimed one another and found a collective voice. This is the voice I heard last week at the event I attended, and it resonated as loud as—perhaps louder than—the pro-nuke media and their supplicants. Their collective voice emerges from reality, not abstraction. My God, I hope it’s louder than that of Lindsey Graham, and so many other politicians.
Here is the voice of Han Jeong-Soon. Born in Korea 14 years after the destruction of Hiroshima—her parents had also been forced laborers there, living a few kilometers from the epicenter of the bomb blast—she suffered all her life from birth defects: heart problems, chest pain, lung issues. She had multiple surgeries. She suffered on her own... until she saw a film about the bombing in 2004. Then:
“I realized my pain was not only my pain but other people’s pain,” she told us. She began organizing other second-generation survivors, and began telling the world: “My war has not ended. No war should be allowed or tolerated. No to all war.”
Is this the voice that will drown out the military-industrial complex? The People’s Tribunal is demanding, as the starting point of the human journey beyond war, for the United States to apologize for dropping atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. This was an action that instantly expanded the scope of hell the human race could inflict on itself.
When I heard that word, “apologize,” in the context of first- and second-generation Korean A-bomb victims—victims who were denied necessary healthcare, by both Japan and the United States—what I heard was a soul scream: a demand that the perpetrator grasp and acknowledge the full extent of the harm it caused, and in so grasping, vow never to use such a monstrous weapon again... and, indeed, vow to transcend war itself.
The International People’s Tribunal put it this way:
The A-Bomb Tribunal aims to establish the illegality of the U.S. atomic bombings in 1945 to secure the basis for condemning all nuclear threats and use as illegal today. The fact that the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki were illegal under the international laws in 1945 means that the use and threat of nuclear weapons today are also illegal.
The A-Bomb Tribunal aims to overcome the nuclear deterrence theory that justifies the use and threat of nuclear weapons by nuclear-weapon states, and contribute to the realization of denuclearization of the Korean Peninsula and a nuclear-free world.
Let us listen to those who have suffered the most. Let us hear the cry of their throbbing souls and begin to understand that the time has come for us to create a world beyond dominance and war. Indeed, let us begin listening to one another and, in so doing, learn that we all matter. This is the true nature of power.
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Imperialist Peace: Trump’s Strategic Rebranding of Empire
His rhetoric of ending “forever wars” masks a calculated strategy—one that replaces direct military intervention with economic control, resource extraction, and corporate influence.
Mar 07, 2025
The dramatic clash between U.S. President Donald Trump and Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy dominated headlines, turning what was supposed to be a diplomatic engagement into a public spectacle. Viewers watched in real time as shouting, accusations, and later reports of the abrupt departure by the Ukrainian delegation fueled outrage and speculation. Critics accused Trump of abandoning Ukraine, undermining the U.S. commitment to global democracy, and treating foreign policy negotiations as if he were a mafia boss issuing ultimatums. Yet while Trump’s behavior was undeniably confrontational, the real issue runs deeper than his personal style of diplomacy.
Trump’s approach may lack the diplomatic polish of previous administrations, but the difference is stylistic rather than substantive.
Beneath the theatrics, Trump is not fundamentally breaking from U.S. foreign policy traditions; he is reshaping them. His rhetoric of ending “forever wars” masks a calculated strategy—one that replaces direct military intervention with economic control, resource extraction, and corporate influence. What Trump offers is not an alternative to U.S. imperialism but a rebranded version: a “profitable imperial peace” where stability itself becomes a commodity for American oligarchs. Meanwhile, centrist politicians—his supposed opposition—continue to promote a perpetual war that serves the interests of the military-industrial complex, ensuring that conflict remains a permanent feature of global geopolitics.
The Outrage Over Trump Misses the Bigger Picture
Following the disastrous meeting, widespread condemnation of Trump emerged from political analysts and mainstream media. Critics accused him of selling out Ukraine, bowing to Russian interests, and violating the norms of diplomatic engagement. These critiques, while valid in their own right, fail to address the fundamental reality: U.S. foreign policy has always been about maintaining imperial power, whether through military occupation, economic coercion, or geopolitical alliances that serve corporate interests.
Trump’s approach may lack the diplomatic polish of previous administrations, but the difference is stylistic rather than substantive. His overt transactionalism merely exposes what has always been true: The U.S. does not support Ukraine out of a commitment to democracy but because it serves American geopolitical and economic interests. Beneath the veneer of respectability, the Biden administration, along with centrist politicians in the U.S. and Europe, has funneled billions into a war effort that increasingly appears to be less about securing Ukrainian sovereignty and more about sustaining a profitable cycle of militarization and strengthening U.S. global power.
The left must support Ukraine’s fight for self-determination, but its critique of Trump cannot be reduced to liberal outrage over his rhetoric or authoritarian posturing. What is needed is a materialist analysis of the capitalist forces shaping U.S. foreign policy—one that moves beyond the spectacle of Trump’s behavior to examine the deeper economic interests at play. Trump is not simply an outlier; he is both a continuation of and a divergence from the military-industrial complex mindset embraced by the Democratic establishment and centrist foreign policy elites. While figures like former President Joe Biden and European leaders justify endless military aid as part of a moral defense of democracy, they are simultaneously ensuring that the war remains a lucrative investment for arms manufacturers and defense contractors.
Trump, by contrast, has framed his approach as one of “peace,” but this too is a project driven by oligarchic interests, not diplomacy or anti-imperialism. His vision of peace is not about Ukrainian sovereignty but about restructuring U.S. hegemony in a way that shifts power from defense corporations to the energy sector, real estate developers, and financial elites. The far-right’s “imperialist peace” seeks to replace direct military engagement with economic subjugation, where stability becomes a tool for privatization, resource extraction, and the expansion of corporate control over Ukraine’s post-war future. This is not an abandonment of empire but a strategic reconfiguration of its mechanisms. A critical left analysis must dissect why Trump and his allies are so committed to peace—not as a humanitarian cause, but as a means to consolidate power for a different faction of oligarchs, all while leaving Ukraine trapped between Russian colonization and Western economic domination.
Imperialist Peace: A New Model of Capitalist Control
The real divide in U.S. foreign policy is not between interventionism and isolationism but between two competing models of imperialism: perpetual war and profitable peace. Centrist politicians and military contractors benefit from an unending war economy, where conflicts like Ukraine serve as permanent revenue streams for arms manufacturers and defense lobbyists. The longer the war drags on, the more profitable it becomes, allowing the U.S. and Europe to solidify and grow their military industries.
Trump’s vision for Ukraine presents itself as a departure from military interventionism, yet it reshapes imperial influence into a model of economic control. This “imperialist peace” positions stability as a resource for capitalist elites, ensuring corporate access to energy, land, and financial markets. Instead of a commitment to democracy or self-determination, this approach prioritizes wealth extraction through industries aligned with Trump’s strongest backers—fossil fuel conglomerates and real estate developers.
As long as U.S. foreign policy remains structured around corporate interests, the world will continue to be trapped in a cycle where war is either endlessly prolonged or peace is crafted to serve the needs of capital.
While Democrats and Republicans both maintain deep ties to the weapons industry, Trump’s policies reflect a strong alignment with fossil fuel executives and luxury property developers. Energy firms invested an estimated $219 million to shape the current U.S. government, signaling their expectation of policies favoring resource extraction and deregulation. Real estate investors, long intertwined with Trump’s personal business empire, have also fueled his political rise through massive financial contributions.
The purpose of Zelenskyy’s visit to Washington underscored this economic agenda. While media attention focused on the fiery exchange between leaders, the trip’s primary objective involved securing a deal granting U.S. companies control over Ukraine’s mineral wealth. This agreement cements Trump’s vision where capitalist elites extract profits from conflict not only through weapons sales but also through post-war reconstruction, energy production, and privatized infrastructure.
Luxury real estate speculators view regions impacted by war as investment opportunities. Waterfront redevelopment in areas previously devastated by conflict has emerged as a lucrative ventures. Stability functions as an asset for those seeking to transform destroyed neighborhoods into high-end residential and commercial spaces, ensuring an influx of capital through privatization. Trump’s strategy for Ukraine mirrors this approach, positioning peace as a mechanism for capital accumulation rather than a humanitarian goal.
Expanding the Imperialist Peace Model: Gaza and the Digital Economy
Trump’s “imperial peace” extends beyond Ukraine. His proposals for Gaza suggest similar priorities—displacing residents while repurposing land for high-end redevelopment. Recent reports detail his team’s discussions on transforming Gaza into an exclusive investment hub, removing existing communities under the pretext of regional stabilization. This mirrors his broader approach to foreign policy, where war-torn regions become assets for financial elites seeking prime real estate acquisitions.
This version of peace appeals to billionaire investors shaping the digital economy. High-profile figures like Elon Musk and Mark Zuckerberg support Trump not only due to ideological alignment but also because their industries depend on access to land and minerals critical for data infrastructure. Lithium and rare earth elements, essential for artificial intelligence, electric vehicles, and cloud computing, remain central to their business models. Securing these materials through agreements structured under Trump’s version of stability allows these tech leaders to expand digital empires without disruption.
Developers pursuing large-scale urban expansion depend on geopolitical conditions that guarantee unrestricted access to construction zones, lucrative tax incentives, and flexible labor markets. This extractivist economic model strengthens corporate dominance by securing control over resources, expanding real estate ventures, and integrating digital infrastructure into newly developed regions. Trump’s approach reconfigures imperial influence into an economic framework where energy executives, land developers, and tech giants dictate the terms of global stability. War fuels one sector of capital, and peace opens new pathways for financial expansion, ensuring that every phase of instability generates wealth for those positioned to exploit it.
Perpetual War vs. Profitable Peace–A Capitalist Trap
Framing the future in terms of perpetual war or imperialist peace obscures how both serve capitalist consolidation. Centrist politicians sustain conflict through arms production and military spending, maintaining profits for defense contractors. Trump offers an alternative where corporate executives expand power through resource extraction, real estate ventures, and digital infrastructure. Both systems reinforce a global structure that keeps economic elites in control, ensuring that whether through war or peace, capital remains the primary beneficiary.
The shock over Trump’s behavior during his meeting with Zelenskyy reflects a fundamental misunderstanding of U.S. foreign policy. While his tactics may be more blatant, his actions expose what has always been true—war and peace are both industries, and U.S. engagement in global conflicts is driven not by moral concerns but by economic interests. Whether through perpetual war or a profitable imperial peace, the capitalist class benefits, while the people on the ground—whether in Ukraine, Palestine, or elsewhere—suffer the consequences.
Trump’s brash, domineering style serves as a distraction from the deeper capitalist dynamics at play. He performs the role of the “strong” business leader, evoking the image of a mafia boss who negotiates through intimidation and self-interest, much as Biden projected the aura of a “respectable” diplomat who upholds international order. Each persona functions as a veneer, concealing the same fundamental commitment to capitalist imperialism. While one brandishes threats and transactional deals, the other couches economic coercion in diplomatic formalities. Both preserve a system where economic elites dictate global affairs, ensuring that policy decisions—whether framed as aggressive or pragmatic—ultimately protect the interests of corporate power.
As long as U.S. foreign policy remains structured around corporate interests, the world will continue to be trapped in a cycle where war is either endlessly prolonged or peace is crafted to serve the needs of capital. The real challenge is not choosing between these two models of imperialism but dismantling the system that allows war and peace alike to be dictated by profit.
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