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Opinion
Trump Is Vindicating Every Warning About the Potential Misuse of War-on-Terror Powers
What we are witnessing is the war on terror in zombie form: devoid of its original life force and human drive, but more dangerous than ever, as it shuffles mindlessly forward in a search for human flesh to no end.
Oct 15, 2025
There is good news and bad news for critics of the United States’ bloated 21st century war machine. The good news: The “war on terror” is dead.
The bad news? It seems to have become a part of the walking dead—a kind of zombie war on terror that is continuing and radically expanding, even as the fears and threats that originally motivated all its excesses are seemingly vanishing from the American psyche.
Consider the following facts: Despite the public release only a few years ago of evidence showing the Saudi government’s direct complicity in the crime of September 11, 2001—the central, instigating act of terrorism that drove and justified every aspect of the “war on terror” that followed—associating with or even taking money from that same government appears to carry no stigma. The Biden administration’s efforts to pledge American lives and treasure to defend that same government elicited relatively little controversy. And this year, dozens of top US comedians, from the left-leaning Bill Burr to the right-leaning Andrew Schulz, happily took its money to help whitewash its image. The Saudi government’s expanding encroachment into US sports and entertainment in general continues only to receive an eager welcome.
Meanwhile, after spending more than a decade fighting the shadowy threat of al-Qaeda, the US government has now seemingly come to terms with the terror group’s ongoing influence in the region. It has enthusiastically gone along with the installation of an al-Qaeda-linked militant, Ahmed al-Sharaa, as the leader of Syria, whose former president Washington spent years trying to remove from power expressly because of his alleged support for terrorism—including the very al-Qaeda its new president hails from.
Trump may be the first president to use this zombie “war” for ends that it was never meant for, but history suggests he will not be the last, unless we make the collective political choice to put a lid on and roll back the radical growth of executive war-making power that has accumulated year after year since 9/11.
Sharaa swiftly had the $10 million US bounty on his head removed, the terrorist designation of the al-Qaeda offshoot he led has been revoked, and just a few weeks ago, he was given a warm welcome during the United Nations General Assembly in New York, where on one stage, former CIA Director David Petraeus acknowledged the two had been on opposite sides of the civil war in Iraq 20 years ago, in between lavishing him with praise and declaring himself a “fan.”
It’s not just al-Qaeda. The Biden administration had explored teaming up with the Taliban to fight ISIS’ branch in Afghanistan, while the Trump administration is now inching toward normalizing relations with the group, which George W. Bush once said was “threatening people everywhere by sponsoring and sheltering and supplying terrorists.”
The Taliban’s link to al-Qaeda was once upon a time the rationale for regime change and 20 years of US war in Afghanistan—which, of course, ended with the Taliban coming back into power, which Washington appears to be coming to peace with now.
Together, these stories suggest that both the American public and the Washington national security establishment have moved on from the core motivations that drove the “war on terror” for the better part of two decades. Al-Qaeda, the Taliban, the government forces behind September 11—none of it matters anymore, apparently.
And yet the “war on terror” is not just still with us, it’s expanding in radical new ways. The Trump administration has now explicitly repurposed the tactics and powers used against terrorism against a new, unrelated target: drug traffickers—launching airstrikes on private Venezuelan boats in international waters on the basis that drug smugglers are terrorists, and that their transportation of drugs constitutes “an armed attack against the United States.” This is despite widespread doubts about the legality of such strikes and concerns about the risks of this terrorist designation.
Meanwhile, President Donald Trump has also continued and escalated the trend started under the Biden administration of turning the “war on terror” inward. The president is now threatening to deploy the military against what he calls the “enemy from within,” as his administration pushes to treat a variety of domestic critics, dissidents, and opposition groups as terrorist threats over their First Amendment-protected activity, and draws up secret watchlists of supposed domestic terrorists.
This is all a vindication of the many civil libertarians who warned over the past 24 years that the expansive powers claimed by President Bush and then Barack Obama would somewhere down the line be used in new, alarming ways they were never originally intended for, including to intimidate and punish political dissent. What’s absurd is that this is happening at the exact time that the threats that originally justified all of this are simply being forgotten.
What we are witnessing is the war on terror in zombie form: devoid of its original life force and human drive, but more dangerous than ever, as it shuffles mindlessly forward in a search for human flesh to no end.
Trump may be the first president to use this zombie “war” for ends that it was never meant for, but history suggests he will not be the last, unless we make the collective political choice to put a lid on and roll back the radical growth of executive war-making power that has accumulated year after year since 9/11. Until then, this zombie will stagger on.
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The Abundance Movement’s Deregulatory Deceit
How Green Amendments, not rollbacks, can help usher in an era of true abundance.
Oct 15, 2025
The nation’s halting and uneven clean energy rollout—exacerbated by President Donald Trump’s hostility to anything green—threatens our prosperity, our climate, and our communities. Left unchecked, rising temperatures—driven largely by fossil fuels and the industries that burn them—will destroy ecosystems, disrupt our economy, and destabilize our society.
Some opportunistic politicians think they have a solution in the latest media fad, the so-called “Abundance” movement. They argue that the rules and regulations put in place to protect the environment are in fact obstacles impeding our ability to build the clean energy our climate needs. Their logic is nonsensical: Cut environmental regulations to protect the environment and unleash energy abundance.
But we’ve been down this path, and it leads not to abundance, but impoverishment. We’ve seen the havoc that unrestricted exploitation of nature brings to our health, our communities, and our environment: Barren hillsides. Air too dangerous to breathe. Workers’ lives devastated, and too often lost. Toxic rivers and underground fires.
In 1971, damage like this led Pennsylvanians to rise up and demand the passage of the state’s Green Amendment. Led by visionary State Sen. Franklin Kury, Pennsylvania became the first state in the nation to enshrine in its constitution a revolutionary recognition of the People’s right to pure water, clean air, and healthy environments, and to create a constitutional obligation for leaders to protect these rights. Pennsylvania’s Green Amendment is now being used to ensure that industry—including a vibrant clean energy sector—is able to advance while also protecting Pennsylvanian’s inalienable right to a clean, safe, and healthy environment, and all the economic benefits that flow therefrom.
Rather than regulatory rollbacks, we need a reorientation—one that advances clean energy abundance without empowering fossil fuels.
But in pushing a stale deregulatory agenda, the Abundance movement threatens to undo the balance healthy environments provide and open the door to a fossil fuel industry more focused on profits than people—an industry that has always overpromised on job creation and economic benefits, while consistently downplaying the harm it causes to our environment and our health.
And make no mistake, the harms are significant. Pollution and environmental degradation can impose debilitating costs through higher rates of childhood cancer, heart disease, asthma, and Alzheimer’s, on top of a broader economic burden and loss of personal well-being.
Moreover, regulatory rollbacks proposed under the false promise of “abundance” will let industry off the hook for its failures while doing nothing to stop companies from attempting to increase profits by foisting the costs of environmental abuses on to the communities they harm. Indeed, far from pushing these companies to meaningfully address project shortcomings, a deregulatory agenda allows them to continue blaming regulation for their failures, however specious the case.
Take for example, the PennEast pipeline, a proposed natural gas pipeline cancelled in 2021. Deregulation advocates blame the inability to secure permits for the project’s failure, but the real issue was a lack of demand. In the absence of genuine need, there was no way to justify the investment, seizure of private property, or harm the project would unleash on the community’s health, economy, or environment.
Faulting regulations that protect communities and prevent wasteful investment for the fossil fuel industry’s failure to deliver is misplaced. Reforming the way that environmental permitting works, even removing the requirement to secure these permits entirely, won’t solve the industry’s fundamental duplicity.
Indeed, in today’s environment—with a federal government that is actively hostile to clean energy, that believes climate change is a hoax, and is fully in thrall to monied interests bent on extracting every dollar possible from the natural world, whatever the consequences to our health, our communities, or our environments—advocating that states roll back environmental protections and shut communities out of the decision-making process is laughably naive at best, and complicit in the resulting harms at worst.
Removing the ability of communities to push back on these harms, and instead counting on the fossil fuel industry to police itself, will not result in abundance for all, but profits for a select few.
Rather than regulatory rollbacks, we need a reorientation—one that advances clean energy abundance without empowering fossil fuels. We must undergird our system with a recognition that all Americans have an inherent right to pure water, clean air, and a healthy environment. That is how Green Amendments will support economic progress while also protecting our environment.
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10 Ways Billionaires Are Making Your Life Worse and 5 Ways to Fight Back
An economy rigged to funnel so much wealth and power to the billionaire class is bad for you and everyone else. It undermines your life in some major ways.
Oct 15, 2025
As a coeditor of Inequality.org, I get a lot of fan mail (and a few complaints). Greg B. recently wrote in, “None of my problems exist as a result of someone else being a billionaire.”
My response to Greg: “An economy rigged to funnel so much wealth and power to the billionaire class is bad for you and everyone else. It undermines your life in some major ways.”
I wrote my new book, Burned by Billionaires: How Concentrated Wealth and Power are Ruining Our Lives and Planet, for folks like Greg to talk about how extreme wealth inequality disrupts our daily lives. Here are 10 ways you are being burned by billionaires, pulled from my book.
My analysis doesn’t focus on the behavior of individual billionaires—though some are gnarly ones (while a handful show signs of decency). The problem is the system of laws, rules, and regulations tipped in favor of big asset owners at the expense of wage earners and working folks.
When I’m talking about billionaires, I’m thinking of more people than the 905 US billionaires that together control about $7.8 trillion in wealth. I include the top one-tenth of 1%, the 0.1% of households that have over $40 million on up to the billionaire class. People with wealth north of $40 or $50 million have every need and desire met and easily accumulate power. They’re not just buying mansions and private jets but also lawmakers and media outlets. That’s when we need to sound the alarm about “the billionaires.”
Here are 10 of the ways you are personally getting burned by billionaires:
1. The billionaires stick you with their tax bill. By opting out of their tax obligations, the billionaire class is shifting responsibility on to you to pay for everything from infrastructure to national defense to veterans services.
2. They rob you of your voice and vote. With the billionaire capture of the government, what you think barely matters. Your vote might still make a difference, but only in marginal situations where the billionaires haven’t dominated candidate selection, campaign finance, and policy priorities. The billionaires love gridlock and government shutdowns because they can block popular legislation from happening.
3. The billionaires supercharge the housing crisis—and profit from it. Billionaire demand for luxury housing is driving up the cost of land and housing construction, supercharging the already existing housing crisis. Billionaire speculators are buying up rental housing, single family homes, and mobile home parks to squeeze more money out of the housing shortage. Global billionaires are coming to “tax haven USA” to park their money in US farmland, timber and housing.
4. They inflame existing divisions in society. The billionaires don’t want you to understand how they are picking your pocket. So, they invest heavily—pouring millions into partisan media organizations and divisive politicians—to deflect our attention away from their harmful behavior. Their divisive policy and social agenda drives down wages, worsens the historic racial wealth divide, and scapegoats immigrants.
5. They are trashing your environment. The billionaires are the super polluters and carbon emitters, burning up the Earth with their excessive consumption through yachts, private jets, and multiple mansions. While you’re recycling and walking, they are zooming around in private jets and yachts with the carbon emissions and pollution of small nation states. While we all need to do our part, the billionaires make us feel like chumps for making ecological choices and sacrifices.
6. They are making you sick. Billionaire backed private-equity funds are buying up hospitals and health specialties—along with big pharma drug companies—with the aim of squeezing more out of healthcare consumers. Health outcomes in societies with extreme disparities in wealth are worse for everyone, even the rich, than societies with less inequality.
7. They are blocking timely action on climate change. Fossil fuel billionaires spend millions to block the transition to a healthy future. They fund politicians to declare a bogus energy emergency to keep their coal plants open and shut down competing wind projects. They are literally running out the clock for our governments to take action to avert the worst impacts of climate disruption.
8. They are coming for your pets. Billionaire private equity funds know we love our pets like family members and are sometimes willing to go into debt for their healthcare. To squeeze more money out of us, the billionaires are buying up veterinary care, medical specialties, pet food and supply—and even pet care services like Rover.com.
9. They are dictating what’s on your dinner plate. The food barons—the billionaires that monopolize almost every sector of the food economy—are dictating the price, ingredients, and supply of most food stuffs.
10. They are corrupting charity and philanthropy. Billionaire philanthropy has become a taxpayer subsidized form of private power and influence. As philanthropy gets more top-heavy—with most charity dollars flowing from the ultra-wealthy—it distorts and warps the independence of the nonprofit sector.
11. Bonus: They are buying up and hijacking the media. The billionaires are buying up the media: broadcast, social media, news outlets. We need more news and social media outlets that are independent of billionaires, like this one!
Burned by Billionaires isn’t another gloom and doom book. I talk a lot about what we can do together to fight the billionaire hijacking of our society and democracy. And you can read about our faces on the frontlines in our Inequality.org newsletter every week to see how people are taking action. A few action steps you can undertake today:
1. Talk to your neighbors about these 10 ways they are feeling the billionaire burn. Organize a discussion group of Burned by Billionaires. Don’t act alone. Join with others.
2. Advocate for taxing the rich and ensuring that billionaires pay their fair share. When your neighbor understandably complains about local and state taxes, explain how the billionaire class has lobbied for tax law changes—to shift taxes off the wealthy and onto everyone else; off federal tax systems onto local; off taxes on income from wealth and into taxes on wages.
3. Game-changing campaigns. Advocate for policies that tax billionaire wealth and invest in housing, educational opportunity, and the energy transition away from Earth-cooking fossil fuels. If federal changes are blocked by the billionaires, work at the state and local level. Tax luxury real estate transfers to fund affordable housing. Tax private jet fuel and fund green transit. Tax billionaire inheritances and fund debt-free higher education and job training.
4. Join the satirical resistance: Trillionaires For Trump! We see the power of comedians and late-night talk show hosts. You can join a new comic resistance effort, see www.trillionairesfortrump.org. Have fun while imitating and parodying the powerful billionaires and join their new health campaign, “Go Fund Yourself!”
5. If you haven’t already checked out Inequality.org, the web site I coedit. Please sign up for our weekly newsletter HERE. Every week we lift up action campaigns and heroic “faces on the frontline” of people working to reverse extreme wealth inequality.
If this intrigues you, I hope you’ll buy Burned by Billionaires from your local independent bookstores or online. Learn more at www.burnedbybillionaires.com.
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The Quiet Shuttering of a Main Street Lending Program Will Make Inequality Worse
What looks like administrative housekeeping represents the dismantling of one of the most effective tools the federal government ever created to help working people and local economies build wealth.
Oct 15, 2025
Buried in the government shutdown is a decision that has nothing to do with budgets and everything to do with what government is for. Amid the political theater and arguments over spending priorities, one of the first casualties appears to be the Community Development Financial Institutions Fund. The Treasury Department has eliminated the entire staff of the program that, for three decades, delivered capital to Main Street instead of Wall Street and did it profitably.
The news has barely registered. In the hierarchy of shutdown crises, a federal lending program with a bureaucratic name ranks somewhere below furloughed workers and closed monuments, well beneath the spectacle of masked agents patrolling streets and entire zones flooded by federal enforcement. A program that helped people build wealth for 30 years disappears with less attention than a single day of border theater.
This is precisely the problem. What looks like administrative housekeeping represents the dismantling of one of the most effective tools the federal government ever created to help working people and local economies build wealth.
Understanding what we have lost requires understanding what the fund actually did, which is harder than it sounds because the work was so determinedly practical. The CDFI Fund began in 1994, in that brief Clinton-era window when both parties still pretended to care about the specific geometry of American inequality, not inequality as an abstraction to be lamented or celebrated, but the actual spatial reality of capital disappearing from entire regions of the country.
The message reads clearly: Certain people, certain places, are not worth the investment, no matter how small, no matter how effective.
By the early 1990s, the mechanics of abandonment were clear. Banks had discovered they could make more money financing suburban developments and corporate mergers than lending to the people who actually lived in Flint or Pine Ridge or the Mississippi Delta. Redlining had been illegal for decades, but you didn't need explicitly racist policies when you had risk models that just happened to define entire communities as unprofitable. The result was a map of America divided into places where credit flowed freely and places where it had stopped flowing at all.
The CDFI Fund offered a simple solution: seed money for local lenders who were willing to do the work that big banks had abandoned. These were credit unions, community development banks, and loan funds that knew their borrowers personally, understood the local economy's rhythms, and had better repayment rates than many commercial lenders precisely because they were not trying to jam every applicant through the same algorithm. The fund's proposition was straightforward. If the federal government absorbed some of the early risk, the cost of building institutional capacity, the uncertainty of lending in disinvested markets, private capital would follow. And it did. For every federal dollar invested, roughly eight more came from private banks and investors. This was market making in places the market had written off.
Over 30 years, the program quietly assembled a record that should have made it politically untouchable. Affordable homes built or financed. Hundreds of thousands of small businesses and farms kept afloat or launched. Grocery stores in food deserts. Rural health clinics. Childcare centers that allowed parents to work. The fund's annual budget remained microscopic by federal standards, less than one-tenth of 1% of federal spending, a rounding error in the defense budget, less than we spend in an afternoon on interest payments on the national debt.
Two-thirds of the money went to rural and small-town America, the places we are endlessly told have been forgotten by coastal elites and federal bureaucrats. In West Virginia and Oklahoma and Mississippi, the CDFI Fund was often the only source of affordable capital for people trying to start a business or expand a farm. When the pandemic hit and the big banks utterly failed to deliver Paycheck Protection Program loans to actual small businesses, CDFIs stepped in and moved billions in relief to the people who needed it. A Republican Congress allocated more than $12 billion to the program in 2020 because the work was so obviously effective that even in a moment of total partisan fracture, both sides could see it.
The decision to eliminate the fund during a shutdown allegedly about fiscal discipline becomes genuinely difficult to parse on any rational level. A credit union helping a farmer in rural Oklahoma buy equipment qualifies as essential economic infrastructure. A small business owner in Alabama repairing a roof with an affordable loan represents exactly the kind of entrepreneurship politicians claim to champion. The fund financed the least ideological activity imaginable: commerce. Loans for tractors and storefronts and roofs. Yet treating this program as expendable serves a purpose. It transforms practical infrastructure that helps people build equity and create jobs into something that can be discarded without having to reckon with what is actually being destroyed.
What we are watching represents a category error elevated to governing philosophy. The people eliminating the CDFI Fund claim to be advancing a vision of limited government, of returning power to communities, of letting markets work without federal interference. The fund embodied that vision. It was small, disciplined, and targeted. It did not replace markets; it created the conditions for markets to function in places they had abandoned. It rewarded work and ownership and entrepreneurship, all the things conservative politicians claim to revere. It did this while leveraging massive amounts of private capital, proving that government and markets could be partners rather than adversaries. If you actually believed in the rhetoric of small but effective government, the CDFI Fund would be the model you built outward from.
If the CDFI Fund stays dead, we will have chosen a particular vision of what government is for, and it is a grim one. Government becomes landlord and cop, the entity that collects and enforces but does not build.
We are not cutting the Fund because it failed. We are cutting it because its success exposes the incoherence of what "small government" has come to mean. The government continues to expand in all the ways that involve surveillance, enforcement, and punishment. What shrinks is the part of government that lends, that invests, that takes on risk so that private actors will follow. We keep the agencies that police and audit and deport, and we eliminate the ones that help a mechanic in rural Alabama buy the shop where he works or finance a grocery store on a South Dakota reservation so families do not have to drive 40 miles for food. This represents a preference for a government that extracts over one that builds.
The people who will pay for this are the people who have been paying for decades of policy designed in their name but against their interest. The CDFI Fund served exactly the communities that elected the politicians now calling it unnecessary: working-class families in regions gutted by globalization and bank consolidation, small towns where the factory closed and nothing replaced it, Native communities where the nearest bank branch is an hour away. These are places that have been told again and again that the market will provide, that government is the problem, that they need to be self-reliant. Then when a program appears that actually helps them be self-reliant, that gives them access to the capital they need to own rather than rent, to build rather than wait, it gets swept away. The cruelty here compounds itself. The message reads clearly: Certain people, certain places, are not worth the investment, no matter how small, no matter how effective.
The damage will unfold in the way that budget cuts always do: slowly, locally, in ways that do not generate headlines. Hundreds of CDFIs have pending applications for 2025 funding. Those awards form the core of operating budgets, the money that allows these institutions to lend at all. Without them, a developer planning affordable housing will lose financing and cancel the project. An entrepreneur will give up on expanding. A family that could have afforded a home will keep renting. None of these qualify as catastrophic failures in isolation. They accumulate. They compound. They are the small subtractions that, over years, transform a place from one that still believes in its future to one that has accepted its managed decline.
When those places continue to hollow out, when the remaining jobs disappear and the young people leave and the buildings crumble, the same politicians who eliminated the tools that might have helped will return with explanations that conveniently blame everyone except themselves. It will be the fault of cultural decay or moral failure or not trying hard enough. No one will acknowledge that we made a choice to defund the institutions that helped people build, while preserving and expanding the ones that punish. This represents the con at the heart of the current discourse about government: We dismantle the programs that work, watch the predictable failures that follow, and then use those failures as evidence that government cannot work. The prophecy fulfills itself as discovery.
The CDFI Fund's elimination also clarifies something uncomfortable about how we talk about economic policy in this country. We have entire industries built around helping wealthy people and large corporations access capital: carried interest loopholes, opportunity zones, tax credits for real estate development, subsidies for industries that have not needed them in decades. We have a Federal Reserve that will move heaven and Earth to ensure that financial markets have liquidity. A program that helps working people access a fraction of that capital, that creates actual jobs and ownership in places the market has abandoned, gets deemed expendable. The asymmetry reveals who the economy is designed to serve and who it is designed to exclude.
There is a broader pathology here about what kind of government we are willing to tolerate. We accept, without much controversy, a national security apparatus that costs nearly a trillion dollars annually. We accept a carceral system that incarcerates more people than any other nation on Earth. We accept subsidies for fossil fuel companies and tax breaks for private equity firms. The idea that government might invest a few hundred million dollars to help small businesses in struggling towns access loans somehow becomes a bridge too far. The issue concerns what we are spending on. We have built a state that is very comfortable exercising power over people and very uncomfortable helping them.
If the CDFI Fund stays dead, we will have chosen a particular vision of what government is for, and it is a grim one. Government becomes landlord and cop, the entity that collects and enforces but does not build. Government gives up on the idea that policy can be a tool for shared prosperity rather than just a mechanism for distributing the gains to those already winning. This transcends left or right, progressive or conservative. We either believe that people who work for a living in places the market has forgotten deserve a chance to build something, or we have decided that some places and some people lie beyond reach and should be left to fend for themselves in an economy that has made clear they are surplus.
When the shutdown ends, and it will end, because these things always end, Congress will face a choice. It can restore the CDFI Fund quickly and with enough resources to make up for lost time, or it can let this become permanent, another small program that vanished in the chaos and never came back. The decision will reveal whether any of the rhetoric about helping working people and reviving struggling communities was ever sincere, or whether it was always just performance.
The CDFI Fund proved for 30 years that a mechanic in Alabama buying his shop and a grocery store serving a South Dakota reservation are worth a federal investment, that the work of building and lending can succeed when government chooses to be a partner rather than an overseer. Its elimination announces we have made a different choice. The real casualty of this shutdown will outlast whatever budget deal finally ends it. It will be measured in the homes not built, the businesses not started, the communities that stopped believing they were worth investing in. That loss has already begun.
If you believe the CDFI Fund should be restored, you can sign and share this petition. It will be shared with members of Congress on October 17.
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