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I don’t think it’s inherently un-American to care about suffering in Gaza or Cuba. It is just an American expectation to get threatened by the State Department for giving a fuck.
I initially wrote this piece in 2024 during the student uprisings that took place around the United States. The content was focused on Gaza and the people who made up the movement for Palestine in the belly of the beast. I've rewritten some of it and replaced Gaza with Cuba. The arguments needed no editing at all.
In March, a delegation traveled to Cuba to bring medical aid to Cubans who were suffering under the fuel blockade imposed on them by the United States of America. In recent months, people and organizations who took part, including my own organization, have been targeted by the Trump administration via investigations, subpoenas, and threatening reports such as Marco Rubio's 100-page report "The Capital of 21st Century Communism." In this report, people who bring aid to Cuba or merely speak out against the unilateral policy of starvation that the US implements upon Cuba are accused of being foreign agents and linked to terrorism. People in the comment section of our videos echo the smears because if the accusation is coming from someone powerful like Marco Rubio, it must be true.
I’ve seen them suggest that CODEPINK and other organizers are acting on behalf of someone other than ourselves and perhaps paid to do so. And Rubio has even gone on record saying that the people he is targeting might even be "unpaid" agents of Cuba, which just sounds like he might be going after people for simply having their own opinions that are different from his.
Cuba has dealt with rolling blackouts, fuel, food, and medicine shortages as well as a looming threat of US invasion or attacks as threatened by the Trump administration. People are not getting the medicine they need or the nutrition, which can and will lead to a slow genocide in Cuba if the US starvation policy stays intact. That is what people are so against: the deliberate slow starvation of 11 million human beings, just 90 miles away from our own border. This recent escalation comes after 60 years of aggressive US policy toward Cuba that has punished its people for pursuing an economic and political system that strays from the US model of capitalist exploitation. Cuba, once existing as a playground for the wealthy elite of the US, is now a representation that not only can a small country overthrow US-backed puppets like Fulgencio Batista, but also pursue socialism.
How do we, in the greatest interest of preventing future wars, stop reproducing this accusation so much that it becomes the dominant narrative about anti-war activists?
The accusations of being foreign agents or affiliated with terrorist groups aren’t new or innovative accusations levied against anti-war activists. This narrative has been used since there were wars and people against them. So there are a few questions to be asked: Is it so un-American for regular people (not policymakers) to care about the disastrous loss of human life? Who is levying these accusations that some malign foreign entity pays (or doesn't pay) Americans who care about death and destruction to do so? And lastly, how do we, in the greatest interest of preventing future wars, stop reproducing this accusation so much that it becomes the dominant narrative about anti-war activists?
There have been massive resistance movements to every single war, and whether politicians like it or not, many of the people who have participated have been Americans. If it’s un-American to disagree with our government, then we might as well pack it all up and call it a day on this whole democracy schtick. The accusation of being foreign agents or terrorist sympathizers denies the basic trajectory of social life at this present moment. In the United States, our neighbors are truly from all over the world, and humans are social animals. If we are, enjoyably, living our lives, then we will meet our neighbors, we will become their friends, and we will care deeply for them. Friends introduce each other to other friends, and we learn to care for people who live in places we have never been. Some forces seek to squash that diversity and others use it merely symbolically without accepting the fact that it might challenge who our country does or does not bomb. But both forces use the “foreign agent” accusation to destroy the lives of activists and squash movements into the curb until they have no teeth anymore. It has happened over and over again.
If we move ahead with the idea that it is not inherently un-American to care about massacres or blockades, what we are left with is that the accusation is a tool to get everyone to shut the hell up about what the pigs in power are doing to our families and friends far, far away from here. Or in some cases, right here at home when some of the most powerful people in the Trump administration launch First Amendment chilling investigations into regular people to attempt to stop them from talking about the massacres our country facilitates.
If the peace movement was such a well-funded foreign apparatus, we would never have a war ever again. We would never have blockades and embargoes that starve people to death. The war industry is far better funded than those of us in opposition to it.
So, I don’t think it’s inherently un-American to care about suffering. It is just an American expectation to get threatened by the State Department for giving a fuck. And the inverse is true: it’s also quintessentially American to remain apathetic to the massacres and not utter a word about them and be awarded some temporary comfort. For example, the quiet may have no subpoena in the mail this week or next. If you fall into the latter category, congratulations on your unthreatening inboxes, but I have some bad news for you: One day our country might do something that will anger you. Or, god forbid, your children become adults who decide to care. Then you or your children will become vulnerable to the same accusation and subsequent treatment, including repression, arrest, and murder (like we've seen in the cases of Alex Pretti and Renée Good). Unless we stop reproducing this narrative about protesters at this very critical moment, disagreeing with the government will continue to get you investigated, thrown in jail, or your life ruined by red scare tactics the US government continues to rinse and repeat.
The short answer is the American elite. The politicians and rich have a vested interest in keeping us at war and attempting to drive communist countries like Cuba into the gutter. The US is the largest weapons dealer in the world, and the companies that make the weapons are the biggest donors to many of our politicians. Politicians are bought and sold by the war profiteers, but also by private equity that sees investment opportunities in Cuba. The ruling class has done a great job of making war a profitable industry for themselves. So they built up militarized domestic surveillance to protect the war industry from dissent. If the accusation of being foreign agents scared people into silence about what our country was doing to Vietnam, Cambodia, Iraq, Afghanistan, and so on, why wouldn’t this repression tactic work for what’s happening in Cuba? Besides the fact that the tactic has worked in the past, there’s also a part of it that might be a telling projection: that because the elite need to get paid for their morals and opinions, maybe everyone else does too.
So, their tactic of accusing people of being terrorists or foreign agents works at repressing the masses. They’ve learned this over and over again. Can we say the same, that we’ve learned the same lesson over and over again? It appears that we cannot. But we have the opportunity to do things differently right now.
The longer we go without challenging this narrative, the longer it gets passed down to the war resisters after us. We don’t remember the US wars on Vietnam or Iraq kindly. So why do we still write off the people who resisted those wars? Maybe a lot of the Vietnam War protesters were communists, but they were also right when it mattered. It doesn’t matter if you disagree with the war in Vietnam now. Over 2 million Vietnamese people were killed by our government. It is long over. It only matters if you’re right when it’s actually happening or before it happens, not when the blood is already dried on the pavement.
And as it so happens, being a communist might be the most American thing you can do as more and more people feel like everyone around them somehow got the short end of the stick. Who has the long end of the stick? We’ve never met them.
Americans happen to have their own opinions, and many of us are not paid to have them. You can tell that is a fact by how few of us have healthcare. If the peace movement was such a well-funded foreign apparatus, we would never have a war ever again. We would never have blockades and embargoes that starve people to death. The war industry is far better funded than those of us in opposition to it.
If you ever disagree with the war machine, the titles of “foreign agent” or “terrorist sympathizer” will be waiting for you at your doorstep. It’s really just a matter of time.
Some of us can shake these accusations off. Two years ago, we all saw a photo of a young Palestinian girl with her face falling apart and her father trying to press her back together. We decided her life was worth more than any job or future opportunity we could ever lose from saying something. Her life was worth more than any threat I could ever receive—but the stakes don’t need to be so high for us to stand up for what’s right if we collectively decide right now that they don’t need to be. We can get it right when it comes to Cuba before it's too late. Power is reproduced in every single one of us. The accusations stick every time we don’t refute them on behalf of others. The accusations work every time it isn’t shot down or called out. So we must.
I am proud to be the national co-director of CODEPINK. I am called a foreign agent or terrorist sympathizer every time I post about a child being murdered in Gaza. Or that I don't agree with a policy of collective punishment in Cuba. Or when I dare suggest that the United States shouldn’t be stoking a war with China. The US and China both have nukes. I don’t have to be paid off by a foreign government to have the opinion that a confrontation between two nuclear powers would be a disaster.
Right now, CODEPINK, along with other organizations, are the subject of a smear campaign to discredit our work toward peace. We were accused of being funded by a deep and large web of interests that led back to the Chinese Communist Party, and now we are accused of being agents of the Cuban government. I am sorry to our haters and clickbait journalists, but that is just completely untrue. It is a disrespect to the fearless leadership of women in North America who don’t like blockades being imposed in our name and to our thousands of donors who make our work possible. Now, as the Trump administration escalates its hybrid war on Cuba and people are standing up for what they believe in, the same accusation is coming down on each and every one of us who happens to care about the 11 million Cubans who will go into this fall and winter without electricity, or without the medicines they need to survive. If you ever disagree with the war machine, the titles of “foreign agent” or “terrorist sympathizer” will be waiting for you at your doorstep. It’s really just a matter of time. If we want history to stop repeating itself, if we want to stop the senseless slaughter carried out by our government, we have to stop falling for the same tricks.
When the American elite make the inevitable pivot, and start telling you what country to hate: See through it. And when they start pointing fingers at people who think we shouldn’t go to war—ask if their accusations are actually admissions about their own integrity. You are not bought to care about Cuban life; your comrades aren’t either.
This moment, and every moment of resistance that comes after we are gone, requires us to learn this lesson and fast. The movement and the people sympathetic to it must stand up for themselves and reject the notion that it is fundamentally un-American to care about people or despise massacres.
Peace means embracing conflict, understanding it—through non-judgmental communication between everyone involved—and looking for ways to heal, rather than punish, any harm that has occurred.
Breathe deep, sigh, embrace the next word: W-A-R.
It doesn’t go away. I write about it far too often, and every time I do I feel torn inside... even though I remain personally safe from it (at least for now). Words can so easily turn the actions and consequences of war into abstractions, while failing to question why it exists at all. War is simply who we are. This is a hard certainty to shatter. But...
“Nothing exposes the bankruptcy of America’s approach to Iran more clearly than its return to more war as the answer to its own failures.”
So wrote Sina Toossi and Nancy Okail recently in The Nation. Their words start opening a deeper level of understanding, one that I’m groping for. They go on:
It is tempting to dismiss the war resumption as another example of Donald Trump’s impulsiveness. It is something deeper. Trump is less breaking with America’s approach to Iran than taking it to its logical conclusion.
The logical conclusion, as far as I can tell, is to declare victory and then start looking for the next enemy... the next evil that threatens us. This is “peace”: that brief moment of silence while everyone reloads, as someone once put it. In other words, war is inevitable and ongoing. It solves nothing. It changes nothing, except to intensify people’s hatred, toward “someone,” and their desire for revenge. It shatters connection. It shatters healing.
War’s primary function is to perpetuate itself. It’s a collective addiction to power: power over others, not with them. The enemy is always present and always dehumanized. And war doesn’t always manifest itself through militarism. Consider the criminal justice system, aka the prison system, for instance.
So let me restart this column. The word I want to embrace is: P-E-A-C-E.
Peace equals evolution. Peace means power with others, not over them. And it manifests in numerous, and often unnoticed, ways. Peace is complex and rarely produces great headlines. Over the years I’ve written about many different peace organizations, which exist in many different contexts.
In essence, peace means embracing conflict, understanding it—through non-judgmental communication between everyone involved—and looking for ways to heal, rather than punish, any harm that has occurred.
Here’s part of a column I wrote about 10 years ago, after I had attended a conference on “soul repair” in Des Moines, Iowa:
The community was out of control—the children, oh my God, the children, were sniffing gasoline and pretty much abandoning any pretense of a future—and the social and criminal-justice systems were just adding to the problem. Nothing was working.
“Our children slammed us against a brick wall," Burma Bushie said.
This is the story of a culture in shambles. It was the early ’80s. Bushie’s community is called the Hollow Water First Nation Reserve, a village of about 900 people in eastern Manitoba, more or less at the end of the highway. There was one road in and one road out.
They may have felt utterly isolated in their troubles, but what a few of them started to do—in synchronicity with people in other Indigenous communities—has spread hope and awareness across the planet. They began reaching beyond the known (i.e., Western) world, deep into their souls and into the roots of a lost way of life, to save their children and the future...
“Our children were acting out—not learning. That was our beginning," she said. "We couldn’t hide anymore. The Indian reservation-school system, the child welfare system—all these systems that came to help us more or less became our enemies."
The committed team of change-bringers began talking to one another about their own lives, as well as the troubles around them. They began addressing the issue of alcoholism, an obvious surface manifestation of far deeper matters. "Each time we cleared up one level, we found another," Bushie said. “When we got to sexual abuse—we knew that’s what we had to deal with...”
And it became a community process. When someone has been harmed, people sit in a circle as equals—victim, perpetrator, any others who are affected—and everyone has a chance to talk. When they’re not talking, they listen. There is only one goal: healing
Rupert Ross, who was at the conference with Burma Bushie, wrote about all this in his remarkable book, Returning to the Teachings. He had been a Canadian crown (i.e., prosecuting) attorney, and Hollow Water was part of his coverage area. His job was to prosecute offenders, send them to prison. He began to realize all this was doing was creating more damage to the community, and that Western “justice” had nothing to do with healing. It broke connections. It created bad guys and proceeded to dehumanize them.
He wrote, in his book: “The word ‘healing’ seems such a soft word, but, as I will show later, Hollow Water’s healing process is anything but soft. In fact, jail is a much easier alternative, because it does not require the victimizer to face the real truths about abuse.”
And this is peace: not a simplistic lull while enemies reload—that is to say, nothing at all—but the ongoing creation of a world that belongs to all of us. It’s also known as evolution.
In the largest veterans’ protest since the Vietnam era, 500 veterans, active-duty service members, and military families marched in Philadelphia against ICE, the occupation of American cities, the war on Iran, and threats to deploy troops at polling sites in November.
On the 250th anniversary of the founding of the United States, a coalition of more than 500 veterans, active-duty military members, and military families gathered in the birthplace of the nation to reject what they called the “Trump administration's fascist vision for the country's future.”
Undeterred by 101°F heat that forced the cancellation of the official Philadelphia parade, the coalition—About Face, 50501 Vets, Veterans For Peace, Common Defense, Military Families Speak Out, Fayetteville Resistance Coalition, and Center on Conscience and War—marched under the banner “Veterans Against Fascism."
"We cannot continue the next 250 years as we have the last 250," proclaimed About Face organizing director Rebecca Roberts, a 12-year veteran of the New Jersey National Guard who resigned her commission in protest of US foreign policy.
“Our neighbors are being kidnapped by ICE and put into concentration camps; VA, Medicaid, and SNAP—vital services—are being cut to instead fund war crimes abroad, and for troops to occupy cities like DC, Memphis, and New Orleans,” said Roberts.
“So who is with me?” asked Roberts, as she led attendees in a call-and-response, asking marchers to raise their fists if they demand:
Roberts noted the march returned to the same ground where veterans and military families gathered 50 years ago, led by Vietnam Veterans Against the War, to demand a country that took care of them as they suffered and healed from the wounds of war.
The Veterans Against Fascism coalition was the front contingent of the larger Peoples’ Parade, comprised of local Philadelphia groups and national groups such as the American Friends Service Committee, AFL-CIO Philadelphia Council, Juntos, and No ICE Philly. Over 1,000 people marched on July 4 in what the Peoples’ Parade called “an act of decisive opposition to the current state of American politics and material conditions, including mass deportation, forced displacement, climate crisis, and international war.”
Michael McPhearson, executive director of Veterans For Peace, invoked the Declaration of Independence signed 250 years ago in the same city:
On this anniversary, hundreds of veterans and military families have come to sound an alarm for democracy, as our national leaders ignore these basic truths, trample our rights, and treat us as subjects of the billionaire class, not as self-governing equals.
McPhearson reminded service members of "your duty to refuse illegal orders" and called on the public "to honor our service not with ‘thank yous’ but by organizing and acting to protect our elections and stop fascism.”

Among the marchers were at least a dozen currently-serving members of the US military, part of the Service Members’ Anti-War Contingent. Cam White of the Center on Conscience and War, marching alongside active-duty members of the Army, Marines, Air Force, and Navy, said:
There are more active duty troops at this protest than there have been in generations, because people in uniform today are waking up. Many service members are facing the greatest crisis of conscience that they have ever dealt with in their lives.
White reminded attendees that "service members do not take an oath to a president or a government; they take an oath to the Constitution. Troops have a duty to disobey unlawful orders."
Maxine Rebeles, a Navy veteran and member of About Face and Common Defense, tied the march to her work with the No Border Wall Coalition and Frontera Federation in her hometown of Laredo, Texas, describing efforts to stop a border wall and river buoy obstructions that endanger riverfront communities' only water source:
We're watching militarized law enforcement like ICE and Border Patrol harass, intimidate, and outright murder people who were standing up for their neighbors. This is an alarm bell for the country. And we don't intend to be quiet about it.
"The future does not belong to billionaires, it does not belong to bulldozers, and it does not belong to fear," she said. "It belongs to our children, it belongs to our communities, and it belongs to us."
Johnny Odom, a retired US Army Sergeant First Class, combat veteran of Iraq and Afghanistan, and member of Military Families Speak Out, spoke as the father of a service member currently deployed to Jordan since the start of the war with Iran.
"Today I stand here before all of you as a father... to denounce this illegal and unjustified war against the people of Iran and the mis-utilization of American forces without congressional approval and, most important, the people's approval,” said Odom.
“In my multiple deployments, I honestly can't tell you why we were in Iraq or Afghanistan or what we achieved other than violence and trauma. Now my son is repeating the cycle in Jordan, and it tears me up inside to think he is in harm's way for no good reason."
Odom called on veterans and military families to help "restore the standards and traditions that make this country truly unique," warning:
We are at a crossroads. We can choose to build and fight for the country that we all deserve, or we can let a wealthy few steer us down a path of ruin.
Another participant, Savanna Rostad of Milwaukee, was full of praise for the marchers:
A key word I would use to define the July 4 Veterans Against Fascism march in Philadelphia is "care." From the medic team who worked tirelessly in the heat to distribute water to the crowd, to the leaders who centered our collective voice around a message of unity and hope, everyone demonstrated care for each other and for our collective future. Witnessing this community in action redefined what nationhood means to me. I now feel a sense of meaning and belonging.
What if I were under the rubble right now? What if I had I just learned that my daughter is 12 years old again and the girls’ school she attended in Iran—in Minab—had just been bombed by an American plane?
Writing a column is like sitting atop a large hill, looking down lovingly—and angrily—at the surrounding world, embracing it in a moral perspective and sharing your analysis of what you see. Primarily, this means telling people what’s wrong.
Today, as I climbed up the hill—this is called research—something felt different, troubling. Where I used to feel enthusiasm, I felt hollow: bereft of self-confidence and certainty. I’ve been writing a weekly column for nearly half of my life, first at a local paper in Chicago for 10 years, then the current column, syndicated until recently by the Chicago Tribune, for the last 27 years. What’s going on here?
I was no longer atop that hill. Suddenly I had nothing to say. The doubt I was feeling—that I had anything relevant and valuable to add to our collective grasp of the world—overwhelmed me.
I had decided to write about what I almost always write about... war. Both current and eternal. Indeed, I had begun scrolling the internet, looking for provocative points of view. I googled the words “terrorism vs. waging war,” seeking to learn what I already knew: that the “official” world has declared a distinction between the two terms as definite as the distinction between “evil” and “good.”
Perhaps the flow of pain I felt was the realization that opposing war in relative safety is too easy. It’s not enough.
My first pop-up response was an AI Overview: “Terrorism and waging war differ fundamentally in their targets, legal frameworks, and combatants. Terrorism targets civilians to induce fear for political or ideological goals. Waging war is typically an armed conflict between states or organized groups, where lawful combatants target military objectives.”
Of course, of course. Terrorists represent evil, plain and simple. They kill real people, always for selfish reasons. But war is official. It’s state-sponsored and legal. It’s registered with God, for God’s sake. And while there’s always an evil side—the enemy—the winners, the good guys, are simply doing what they must. Civilization couldn’t have evolved without it. And that’s how we organize history: from one war to the next. This is the official understanding, which we’re spoon-fed as we grow up.
I see beyond this official certainty and have devoted my life to dismantling it. But the AI Overview explanation, seemingly such an easy target for my ruthless analysis, had an unexpected effect. I felt stabbed with a sense of depression so sharp I could hardly move, let alone write. All I could do was go back to bed, cover my head with my pillow, I wanted to hide.
But the emotional pain didn’t stop. It continued piercing me. I got back up. I saw no relief. I was terrified that old age had set in. Oh my God, am I too old to write anymore (a month and a half away from age 80)? I was ready to give up, blow the column off... spend the rest of the day secretly crying.
Instead, I started writing—cluelessly. I had no idea where my words might go. I was no longer atop a hill. I didn’t know where I was. But an awareness started clutching me. What if I were under the rubble right now? What if I had I just learned that my daughter is 12 years old again and the girls’ school she attended in Iran—in Minab—had just been bombed by an American plane?
A hole had suddenly opened in my life. No, those imaginings aren’t real—not for me—but they are for some of us. Perhaps the flow of pain I felt was the realization that opposing war in relative safety is too easy. It’s not enough. And beyond the realization is simply a dark emptiness. I had nowhere to go. I couldn’t even cry.
All I can do, right now, is reach deeper into my soul, to bless every human I encounter, and to publicly share the largest cry I can make for change. The cry tears loose from a poem I wrote a decade ago, which I also shared in a column I sent out last December. It’s called “The Gods Get in Touch with Their Feminine Side:”
I stroke the unknown,
the dark silence, the
soul of a mother. I
pray, if that’s what
prayer is: to stir the certainties of
pride and flag and brittle
God, to stir
the hollow lost.
I pray open
the big craters
and trenches of
obedience and manhood.
Now is the time
to cherish the apple,
to touch the wound and love even
the turned cheeks and bullet tips,
to swaddle anew
the helpless future
and know
and not know
what happens next.
If we are to dismantle the Doomsday Machine, it will require widespread and concerted efforts to awaken from the spell of this ordinary insanity. In other words, we need to cultivate an ordinary sanity.
This film presents a synthesis of my father’s book The Doomsday Machine. His book depicts the evil murderousness of nuclear war plans, and the particular dangers posed by intercontinental ballistic missiles, or ICBMs, with their first strike capability, intended to be launched on warning.
He believed that with these weapons both the US and the USSR, now Russia, had constructed Doomsday Machines, capable of destroying most life on Earth—machines that are particularly dangerous because neither side acknowledges this reality but continue to proceed as if there were some circumstances in which it was possible to win a nuclear war.
The epigraph from Dad’s book is from Nietzsche: “Madness in individuals is something rare; but in groups, parties, nations and epochs, it is the rule.”
And I am very glad that this film expands on that particular theme with the title: “Ordinary Insanity”—ordinary, as he says, because it is so widely shared.
My dad said that until his last breath he would continue to do everything he could to avert this peril.
And that points to a theme that underlies his most recent, posthumous book, Truth and Consequence: Reflections on Catastrophe, Civil Resistance, and Hope. These reflections, drawn from notes he wrote for himself over 50 years, reflect his deep meditation on what kind of flaw in the human species makes us vulnerable to this kind of insanity.
In other words, we have to face, on the one hand, the particular danger posed by the weapons we have created and the strategies that dictate their function and use. But we also have to contend with the kind of danger posed by human beings—all of us capable of participating in projects that are evil, participating in the widest sense through our silence.
If we are to dismantle the Doomsday Machine, it will require widespread and concerted efforts to awaken from the spell of this ordinary insanity. In other words, we need to cultivate an ordinary sanity.
One of the ways of promoting that is through educational efforts such as this film, which may alert the public to the dangers we are facing. But it will also require widespread conscientious action, a kind of pandemic of courage, wisdom, enlightenment, and dedication to the survival of our planet.
Only when such sanity becomes ordinary will we have a chance of surviving the nuclear era.
My dad said that until his last breath he would continue to do everything he could to avert this peril. I am happy that through this film, even after his last breath, he may continue to plant seeds of sanity and hope.
An Ordinary Insanity is free for viewing on the film’s website or on YouTube.
Religious liberty claims win everywhere, except when it comes to financing war.
The war in Iran has forced many Americans to confront what their tax dollars make them party to. After the US has killed hundreds of Iranian children in school and bombed the country’s civilian infrastructure, more and more Americans are considering tax refusal. It’s a tradition older than the republic itself. Quakers resisted military taxes in the colonies, sometimes at the price of seized property. Thomas David Thoreau was jailed for refusing a poll tax in protest of slavery and the Mexican-American War. And hundreds of thousands resisted the telephone tax during the Vietnam War, when the National War Tax Resistance counted 192 centers in 45 states.
Call that “freedom.”
In an age of ascendant religious liberty, a fortunate class of Americans enjoys it in special measure. Employers, schools, religious institutions, and corporations have won exemption after exemption from ordinary legal duties they claim violate their religious faith. Creationist craft store chains no longer have to pay for contraceptive coverage for their employees. Public school football coaches may launch disruptive displays of prayer at midfield. For every belief, the court has seemed ready with a baroque exception.
Except one, of course: the pacifist’s objection to financing war. One of the oldest religious and conscience claims in American life has been a consistent loser in court. Even the Religious Freedom Restoration Act (RFRA) of 1993, which helped make religious freedom claims an all-conquering force in American law, worked no change for war-tax resisters. In the late 1990s, Quaker objectors tried RFRA and First Amendment claims in federal court. Some offered to pay their full income-tax bill if the money could be directed to nonmilitary uses; others withheld the military portion and redirected it to life-sustaining organizations. All lost.
Once it’s war your conscience abhors, and not condoms, the show stops, and the killing must go on.
Mushrooms have fared better. In 2001, a mushroom company challenged a federal program that required it to help pay for generic mushroom advertising. The company argued that it could not be made to fund a message it did not believe: that mushrooms were mushrooms, and that its own were no better than anyone else’s. The Supreme Court agreed, finding the program violated the First Amendment. Free speech principles have thus protected the consciences of corporations from being wounded by mushroom advertising. But when pacifists, under a similar theory, have objected to financing war? Court after court has told them to get over it.
In this way, American law has built a vast sanctuary for conservative religious conscience and libertarian free speech sensibilities. That sanctuary ends at the gates of the only thing more powerful: the national-security state. Once it’s war your conscience abhors, and not condoms, the show stops, and the killing must go on.
Courts might be able to throw up their hands and say there’s nothing they can do, but Congress has no such excuse. It has let the most tepid solution to conscientious objection to war taxation languish for decades. The Religious Freedom Peace Tax Fund Act, most recently reintroduced in 2021, would deposit the income, estate, and gift tax payments of conscientious objectors and religious pacifists into a fund reserved for nonmilitary uses. Americans who object to war would no longer have to choose between violating the law and violating their conscience. Instead, the bill would offer them a third way: Pay in full, but not for war.
The Peace Tax Fund Act has been reintroduced for five decades, and a more embarrassingly modest intervention is hard to imagine. The bill reduces neither military spending nor objectors’ tax burden. It would offer accommodations less burdensome than those given to other religious-liberty claimants. And it’s been backed in different iterations over the years by giants like John Lewis, the “conscience of Congress”; Ron Dellums, the first Black chair of the House Armed Services Committee; and Mark Hatfield, an evangelical Republican, World War II veteran, and one of the first Americans to witness Hiroshima after the atomic bombing.
All of this raises the question: so why hasn’t it passed? If Congress cannot enact even this most minimal of bills—one that leaves the military budget untouched and still requires objectors to pay their full federal tax burden—then the objection cannot really be about administrative inconvenience or military necessity. Indeed, the Peace Tax Fund is far more dangerous than that. By making war taxation visible as a moral choice, the act would make Americans do what the national-security state is desperate to prevent them from doing: think.
That would begin on the otherwise dry tax form, where it would be hard to miss a new option to object to war. A taxpayer might wonder why it exists. She might begin to question how the military and intelligence agencies spend their combined trillion-dollar budget. She might wonder why the country goes to war and plucks foreign leaders from their beds without public debate. The national-security state has fought hard to keep those questions at bay by keeping citizens in the dark. Questions, after all, can quickly lead to demands for answers. The Peace Tax Fund would encourage them by inviting Americans to take a hard look at the killing done in their names, and that kind of public scrutiny is an existential threat to the military and intelligence agencies accustomed to immunity from it.
This is the only explanation for an otherwise odd situation. Congress appears more willing to lose money to scattered acts of illegal tax resistance than to provide conscientious objectors with a legal pathway to objection. That makes sense once one sees that legal objection is more dangerous to the national-security state than evasion. The Peace Tax Fund Act would legitimize opposition to the military-industrial complex and its casual violence by transforming that opposition into a recognized claim of conscience. Once the state recognizes those claims as the stuff of deep moral conviction rather than the anarchical fringe, it undermines the military-industrial complex’s favorite tactic: ridiculing opponents as traitors and stigmatizing their claims as beyond the pale.
The consciences of objectors and pacifists do not command the tender political theater reserved for the craft store chain, the football coach, or the mushroom company. But that should tell opponents of the American war machine something hopeful: The people who operate it do not believe it can survive public scrutiny. The task, then, is to drag more of that machinery into the light, where everyday Americans might begin to ask whether the country uses its power for good in the world—or for them.
"I'm at the top of this bridge," says Guido Reichstadter, "because the government of the United States is engaged in acts of mass murder in my name."
Forty-five-year-old social justice activist named Guido Reichstadter, on Saturday morning, was still perched atop the Frederick Douglass Memorial Bridge in Washington, DC, after first scaling the structure Friday afternoon in protest against President Donald Trump's disastrous war against Iran, now in its third month, and the rapid and unregulated spread of artificial intelligence technology.
As Reichstadter, who described himself as the father of two children with master's degrees in both math and physics, said in a video posted to social media on Friday: “Hi, my name is Guido Reichstadter, and I’m currently occupying the top of the Frederick Douglass memorial bridge in Washington, DC.”
"I'm calling on the people of the United States," he continued, "to bring an immediate end to the Trump regime's illegal war on Iran and the removal of the regime's power through mass nonviolent direct action and non-cooperation."
"I woke up on February 28th, and I found that hundreds of school children had been blown apart. I think there are many millions of Americans who reject the war in principle, but whose actions have not yet been sufficient to bring it to an end."
In a separate video, he explained he was at the top of the bridge, which rises approximately 168 feet above the Anacostia River at its highest point, "because the government of the United States is engaged in acts of mass murder in my name. And I refuse to be complicit in that."
While bridge traffic in both directions was closed at times on Friday and overnight, the bridge is reportedly open to traffic Saturday morning, though with some lane restrictions, as law enforcement said a "barricade situation" with the protester continued.
Reichstadter, who has staged high-profile protests in the past, spoke to Al-Jazeera via video stream on Friday to explain his actions and call for an end to the war that he says—and tens of millions of other Americans agree, according to polling—is a colossal failure by the Trump administration.
A 45-year old man is occupying the top of Washington’s Frederick Douglass Memorial Bridge to protest the war on Iran.
Guido Reichstadter spoke to Al Jazeera from atop the structure - here's what he had to say. pic.twitter.com/YzHghEoS8m
— Al Jazeera English (@AJEnglish) May 2, 2026
"I mean, it's an atrocity, right?" he said when asked what motivated him. "I woke up on February 28th, and I found that hundreds of school children had been blown apart. I think there are many millions of Americans who reject the war in principle, but whose actions have not yet been sufficient to bring it to an end."
Democratic members of Congress, both in the US House and Senate, have now brought several War Powers Resolutions to the floor in an effort to end the US attack on Iran, which now includes a naval blockade of the country, but Republican majorities in both chambers, backing Trump, have thwarted those efforts.
Poll after poll, meanwhile, shows that Reichstadter is completely correct in stating that millions of people "reject the war," but still the war continues even after a 60-day deadline, according to the War Powers Act of 1973, which says the president must either end military operations or get the explicit approval of Congress, which came and went on Friday.
On Friday, a video showed Reichstadter wearing a t-shirt that read "NO WAR" and unfurling a large black banner along the side of the bridge's central arch as part of the protest.
Before scaling the bridge, Reichstadter also spoke with journalist Ford Fisher to explain his motivations and what he hoped to accomplish with his one-person direct action:
- YouTube www.youtube.com
Reichstatder stayed on the bridge overnight, even as fireworks exploded overhead from a nearby Major League Baseball game.
In his statement concerning AI, Reichstadter said he wanted to "urgently warn the people of the US and the world of the imminent danger we are in of crossing a point of no return towards the development of artificial intelligence, which poses the risk of catastrophic harm to humanity, including human extinction."
"I call on the governments of the world to take immediate action to end this danger by permanently banning the development of artificial general intelligence and machine super intelligence," he said. "I also call on the people of the world to exert all possible influence through nonviolent action to compel their governments to end this danger with all possible speed."
It is the perceived American imperial interest, led by an infantile, power-hungry US president with the Epstein scandal hanging over him, that caused the Iran War.
Israel has been a junior partner of the US empire’s Middle East policy since its military success in the 1967 Six Day War. While there are instances of Israel pushing the US into conflict, most directly in the US-Israel war against Iran in June 2025, the current war in Iran was driven by the US empire’s perceived interests plus the Trump factor.
Israel has long been pressuring the US to fight Iran, but the empire did not find it worthwhile to initiate a full-scale war against the country. Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s address to the US Congress during the Obama era warned of an impending Iranian nuclear weapon. But, instead, President Barack Obama continued the diplomatic route through establishing the Iran Deal, ensuring Iran would not develop nuclear arms. Long before that, neocons dreamed about attacking Iran, from John Bolton’s pressuring the Bush administration to attack the Persian nation to John McCain’s 2007 bomb Iran song.
In addition to the neocons, several other segments of the population have long been eager for an Iran war: Christian evangelicals, Christian Zionists, Jewish Zionists, and pro-Israeli American lobbying groups like the American Israel Public Affairs Committee. Also, the pro-military US public, while not supportive of this war, seems to have an inadequate sense of war's gravity based on their overwhelming majority support for most American wars since WWII. Then, of course, there is the American military-industrial complex, which is seeing high demand for armaments and missile technology as the US spends at least $1 billion a day on the Iran War. With oil at over $100 a barrel, the other main corporate beneficiary to the war is the petroleum industry.
These are all very active and influential internal American elements that have existed for quite some time. With a demagogue in the White House seeking to turn the US into a dictatorship, war has proven to be the answer, whether with Venezuela, threatening a takeover of Greenland, and now Iran. An important factor in pushing President Donald Trump are the Epstein files: war is not only good for accumulating power domestically but a convenient distraction from scandal.
In essence, the US empire, with a Nero-like figure at the helm riddled with scandal, has created a disastrous mess.
American oil interests, the military-industrial complex, and the US’ general policy demanding obeisance from other nations have always seen Iran’s theocratic republic as a particular thorn in their side. Historically, when the US has interfered in the Middle East, Iran, through allied groups like Hezbollah, the Houthis, or its more distant ally, Hamas, have not remained quiet. This was seen during Israel’s genocidal war on Gaza with the Houthis attacking Israel and when Iran-backed militias attacked US soldiers in Iraq during the mid 2000s. The question in the US media was never about what right the US had to be in sovereign Middle Eastern countries. It was, rather, that no one had the right to push back against US interference. The US seemed to think that if countries didn’t bend over backwards like the Gulf States, they were a problem. And, to Washington, Iran has been especially troublesome.
Israel, as has been said by many scholars, is essentially a US fortress in the Middle East. From 2023 to present, Israel has weakened its local enemies and set its sights on Iran’s destruction with increased intensity. Yet it is the perceived American imperial interest, led by an infantile, power-hungry US president with the Epstein scandal hanging over him, that caused the Iran War. Before this, there was hesitation to attack, despite Israeli pressuring, because of the difficulty of changing the deeply embedded Iranian regime, Iran’s ability to strike back at neighboring countries and their US bases and embassies, and the economic blowback of closing the Strait of Hormuz that we now see unfolding.
Furthermore, while only about 40% of Americans support the war, the lack of significant anti-war demonstrations and the general war-normalized zeitgeist of Americans indicates that they are not too opposed to it either. The leading Democrats are no better: They’ve offered only procedural rather than principled criticism of the Iran War.
In essence, the US empire, with a Nero-like figure at the helm riddled with scandal, has created a disastrous mess. It has started an unplanned, unrationalized and, most importantly, unjust war replete with probable war crimes against the people of Iran and Lebanon. It is true, Israel sometimes has wagged the dog, but despite Secretary of State Marco Rubio’s war justification (one of many from the administration), the blame lies squarely with the empire, vested internal interests, and its wannabe dictator. Some blame also lies with the pro-military American population that still sees war as noble, even if sometimes the means of carrying it out aren’t pretty.
Yet war is never noble unless a nation is attacked or a nation has a boot pressing against its neck. Even then, war is ugly. This fact, more than a spurious desire to “liberate,” is what Americans need to remember.
President Sánchez’s voice has been the bravest in Europe. His peace communication and action have the potential to disarm the authoritarian brutality of war as events in Iran and the Middle East grip the hearts and minds of the peoples of the world.
In a move that has sent shockwaves from Washington to Tel Aviv, passing through Berlin and Ankara, Spanish President Pedro Sánchez has positioned Spain as the primary European holdout against the escalating military conflict in Iran. Invoking the ghost of protests against the 2003 Iraq War, Sánchez’s government has blocked the United States from using Spanish military bases at Rota and Morón de la Frontera to bomb Iran—a decision that has triggered threats of a trade embargo from US President Donald Trump.
Sánchez has provided a three-fold argument against the war: that it is contrary to international law, unethical, and catastrophic for the world. He is simultaneously presenting himself as a courageous politician whose principles transcend any fear of US retaliation and a pragmatist who wishes to avoid the negative consequences of the war, from economic disaster to Islamist terrorism.
No a la Guerra captures this narrative in a way that resonates strongly not only in the minds of Spaniards but across the world. Sánchez has satisfied an international demand to speak out against Trump and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and put peace on the agenda. His government has broken a spiral of silence. Can it stir support to stop the war?
Sánchez’s predecessor, José Maria Aznar, dragged Spain into the illegal and catastrophic Iraq War against the will of its people. That remains strongly embedded in the Spanish collective consciousness. The right-wing Partido Popular (PP) knows it lost the subsequent election because “weapons of mass destruction” did not exist, innocent people were killed en masse, there were jihadist terrorist attacks in Madrid as retaliation, and the party lied, blaming the domestic terrorist group ETA. Today’s No a la Guerra is a slap to the face of the PP and the far-right party Vox, which both support the US-Israeli war.
In opposing the Iranian war, the Spanish government is part of a wider movement that can unsettle the sense of helplessness that often grips Europe during Middle East conflicts.
While 80-90% of the Spanish population opposed the invasion of Iraq, almost 70% rejects the current war; 53% of the public supports the government’s stance on military bases. Just 23% supports the war. The right-wing opposition, and Podemos on the left, accuse Sánchez of hypocrisy for sending the frigate Cristóbal Colón to the United Kingdom’s military base in Cyprus. Per Britain’s claims for mobilizing forces and matériel, the Spanish government has responded that this is merely for protection rather than offensive purposes, in accordance with NATO’s doctrine of collective defense. Of course, such doctrines may be invoked quite differently should Iran attack US forces stationed in Europe.
Spain’s government must navigate the tension of geopolitical power relations while avoiding any mismatch between its discourse and practice, per the slaughter in Gaza. Some on the left also maintain that it is impossible to oppose the war effectively without sanctioning Israel and leaving NATO.
The right labels Sánchez as posturing ahead of a potential snap election. Yet the PP leader Alberto Núñez Feijóo has offered babbling, erratic responses that are themselves framed almost entirely through the lens of domestic partisan politics.
Feijóo also argues that Sánchez has abandoned Spain’s allies, jeopardizing the national interest. But the PP’s alignment with pro-war interests represents a regression to an outdated colonialist mindset of total servility. Much like during Aznar’s era, the PP is willing to kneel to US interests, sacrificing national sovereignty to serve as a submissive junior partner in a foreign military campaign. Sanchez’s performance is approved by 42% of the population; 19% support the opposition’s reaction.
The country’s main business association has expressed deep concern about the possibility of the US severing trade relations with Spain and placed responsibility on the Spanish government, urging it to ameliorate the situation.
The European Commission, Italy, France, Portugal, Austria, Ireland, Malta, Turkey, and China have expressed solidarity with Spain in the face of Trump’s threats. However, France and Portugal, together with Germany, the UK, Greece, and Australia have adopted bellicose positions, and Canada is wavering. The President of the European Commission Ursula von der Leyen has justified the attack on Iran and stated that the European Union must be prepared to “project power” as it can no longer rely on the “rules-based” system to protect the continent’s interests, while the President of the European Council Antonio Costa and the Vice-President of the European Commission Teresa Ribera have spoken up for international law.
Within Latin America, Brazil, Colombia, Mexico, Venezuela, and Chile have advocated for adherence to international law and diplomatic resolution; conversely, Argentina has signaled explicit support for the US and Israeli governments.
Israel accuses Spain of failing to fulfill its obligations per NATO, while Trump, as ever the class bully, threatens to punish it. While remaining submissive to Trump, German Chancellor Friedrich Merz has reminded him that he cannot unilaterally block trade with Spain because it shares most-favored nation status with all European Union members. NATO Secretary General Mark Rutte justifies the offensive against Iran at the same time as he defends Spain’s contribution to the organization.
Positions may change as the war evolves. Sánchez needs to go further and mobilize international opposition to the war. He must show it is possible and beneficial (including in electoral terms) to stand up to bullying. That will mean developing new alliances and favoring European strategic autonomy and sovereignty. Should the war go badly for US interests, Sánchez’s blend of ethical resistance and enlightened self-interest could encourage other leaders to join him.
For now, Spain is holding up a mirror to other European countries, challenging them to reflect on their diminished sovereignty. Merz looks weak by contrast when he claims that international law does not apply to Iran.
The US National Security Strategy frames the EU as an enemy to be destroyed, while DC and techno-authoritarians promote the far right. Positive coverage of the Spanish government’s stand in the international press can encourage European governments and citizens to confront Trump and Netanyahu. Significant majorities in Spain, Germany, Italy, and Britain oppose military intervention. It is about time democratic leaders understand the US not as an ally but an irresponsible actor seeking to weaponize Europe in its own interest. Iran’s democratic opposition needs peaceful conditions, as opposed to bombs. And the violence that the regime uses to deter dissent and seek internal cohesion against the external enemy. The country’s democratization must be accompanied by democratization and pacification across the globe, especially the United States.

In opposing the Iranian war, the Spanish government is part of a wider movement that can unsettle the sense of helplessness that often grips Europe during Middle East conflicts. Per 2003’s invasion of Iraq, grassroots popular culture is playing a key role in expressing peaceful solidarity.
A Turkish news anchor moved audiences by thanking Spain—in Spanish—for being “on the right side of history” and “representing the common consciousness of humanity,” while a video of Turkish football fans passionately singing the pasodoble España Cañí has become viral; a surreal display of cultural support. Other viral videos feature a skilled Palestinian skater holding a Spanish flag and a Japanese influencer advocating for Spanish products in response to Trump’s threat.
Peace has a chance should the US people rise decidedly against the war. Spain has paved the way for citizens around the world.
Peace and democracy require symbolic triumphs that bring binding affects to the people and joy to the collective political body. Believing that “yes, we can” is a necessary step to the realization of objectives. As Susan Sarandon said in cinema’s recent Goya Awards, “Silence is very dangerous.” When Sánchez broke the silence of world leaders, the possibility of resistance turning viral emerged: “In a place where you feel repression and censorship, to see Spain come forward with such a strong voice and moral clarity is so important to us, the United States; it makes you feel less alone and that there is hope.”
The US and Israel seem to be losing the battle of international public opinion, but that’s not enough: Authoritarian leaders such as Trump and Netanyahu act through force more than consensus in the international arena. Nevertheless, they rely on their own voters. Although 93% of Israeli Jews and 26% of Israeli Arabs support the war, as of early March, 44% of US citizens support the war and 56% oppose it. Despite Trump’s electoral promise of “no war,” only 15% of his supporters oppose the attacks on Iran, but support for Trump and the war are based on a cult of personality and spectacular demonstrations of force and victory in short wars with few national casualties. Some notable isolationist and antisemitic conservatives have already broken with him over Iran.
Although the figures vary depending on the survey, support for the strikes is far lower than that at the beginnings of previous wars. As ever, support for military action may wane as the economic and human costs of war increase. International-relations mavens are unified in their skepticism. While current opposition remains insufficient to halt the conflict, it highlights a decline in President Trump’s support that could prove decisive in the November midterm elections. However, given the catastrophic consequences of the war, an electoral shift may come too late. Because of the illegal nature of the strikes and the bypassing of congressional approval, it may be time to pursue impeachment based on executive overreach and the violation of international law, albeit with no prospect of conviction.
The role of peace communication is to engage with Trump’s supporters: listening to them, empathizing where possible, sharing information, and showing how they are negatively affected by the war.
Peace has a chance should the US people rise decidedly against the war. Spain has paved the way for citizens around the world. But peace communication should not merely be refusal; it should mobilize diplomacy, internationalism, and interculturality. Peace communication must encourage others to agree, not push them away, and do so in the name of mutual transformation. That depends on a shared will, creativity, and care for humanity.
My country bombed a girl's elementary school. My country killed around 160 girls in an instant. Then, we all go to work on Monday—like nothing ever happened.
"To act is to be committed, and to be committed is to be in danger." —James Baldwin
An aerial photo shows rectangular tracings etched into dirt, one rectangle after the other, creating a grid across the land. A yellow excavator pulls piles of earth out from within the rectangular lines until each rectangle is six feet deep, then it moves onto the next. Men jump into the graves and shovel out what the excavator couldn’t reach. We don’t know if these men are the ones burying their own daughters, or if they knew the girls at all. But in my mind, I think they do—maybe they’re the uncles or the older brothers, and I hope to God it isn’t their fathers having to do something so devastating.
Wars have existed throughout all of human history, and this isn’t the first time hundreds of graves have been dug at once. I do wonder, though, if I were born in another time, if I would have seen such an image. The only thing I can be sure of is the reason why I saw the picture in the first place.
My country bombed a girl's elementary school. My country killed around 160 girls in an instant. My country is the reason that the men and women who loved those little girls have to pull their severed, bloody limbs from the rubble; find their backpacks covered in blood; and bury them forever. Then people like Karoline Leavitt, who will be remembered forever for being the spokeswoman for the human meat grinder, will refer to the mass slaughter as “propaganda” when asked about it. Then, we all go to work on Monday instead of setting the world on fire—like nothing ever happened. Like 160 girls’ lives weren’t extinguished while neocons and liberals alike justify regime change on the basis of state-sanctioned violence against women. Have we not all been here before?
When people are being gunned down in the street for resisting immigration raids, and environmental activists are shot execution style in the woods—to be committed is to be in danger.
This carnage is not new to anyone who’s been paying attention. The protests in response to President Donald Trump’s war on Iran were small, and I would be lying if I said it didn’t depress me. Have we all gotten so used to this? Did seeing the videos of children broken to pieces in grocery bags or hanging from their own intestines from the sides of destroyed buildings in Gaza wear down our nerve endings? As time goes on, and the depravity continues, are we more content with our lives if we ignore our own humanity?
Ultimately, and this may be for my own sanity, I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s not because Americans do not care about the slaughter being carried out in their name. James Baldwin wrote in a letter to his nephew about racism, explaining why white people don’t act differently, even if they know racism is wrong, he says:
Many of them, indeed, know better, but, as you will discover, people find it very difficult to act on what they know. To act is to be committed, and to be committed is to be in danger.
He goes on to describe that if white people were to accept that they weren’t superior to Black people, it would turn their whole world upside down. It would be uncomfortable, for an undefined amount of time to live in a world where everything you “knew” to be true wasn’t anymore.
It would take an exhaustive amount of time to describe how life would change in the United States if people within the country decided that war wasn’t the answer to all of our problems—which has been our country’s fundamental “truth” for decades and decades. Our economy which is so centered around creating weapons and selling them, would need to be restructured completely. We would have to have a government that cannot act against the will of its people.
We would have to accept the “consequences” of not being able to plunder the Earth to its core and take over any country to seize its resources that we happen to need to fulfill the fantasy of endless growth and endless comfort. Eventually, the purpose of life wouldn’t be to have better and better things and be more and more convenient. The purpose of life would be to live, and live with dignity, and live with care. All of this, though, would come later.
The first hurdle in our way is the obvious repression that the pedophile warmongers in the White House can and will put us through if we collectively decide that we aren’t okay with them killing kids anymore. When people are being gunned down in the street for resisting immigration raids, and environmental activists are shot execution style in the woods—to be committed is to be in danger. That repression and that violence are just the tip of the iceberg. If history has taught us anything, it’s that the danger is worth it, that the “truth” we had before is nothing compared to the freedom we will have later. I hope we can all see that clearly, and I hope we’ve sat with it long enough to act, and act seriously.
In the coming weeks, how do we collectively decide to be brave instead of comfortable?