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The Conquest of Gaza and the Dissolving of Humanity
Both Spanish officials in the Americans then and Israeli spokesmen now have openly declared their intention to “conquer” their enemies by forcing their removal from their homes and concentrating them in more controllable areas.
May 23, 2025
Leon Golub once related a story to a mutual friend. A Chicago artist famous for large canvases depicting crimson torture rooms in Central America, Golub had been asked what it meant to him to be a “Jewish political artist.” The painter’s quick reply was that he wasn’t a “Jewish political artist,” he was just a “political artist.” In the end, though, Golub came to believe that he had let himself off too easily, that his answer was too pat. Yes, he was a political artist. His paintings had focused not just on Latin America but on war-torn Vietnam and racism in the United States and South Africa. But he had consciously avoided Israel’s occupation of the West Bank and Gaza.
Golub admitted that what it meant for him to be a successful artist was never to take the “horrors inflicted on Palestinians” as his subject matter. Only then would he be left free to paint his political opinions on anything else.
Over the last year and a half, I’ve thought of Leon Golub, who died in 2004, many times as the escalation of Israel’s assault on Gaza and settler violence on the West Bank paralleled my own rush to finish a book (just published as America, América: A New History of the New World). Among other things, it traces Latin America’s largely unrecognized role in the abolition of the doctrine of conquest and the creation, after World War II, of the liberal international order, including the founding of the International Court of Justice (today considering South Africa’s case that Israel is committing genocide in Gaza).
Arguments over the legality of the Conquest went on for decades, just as arguments over the legality of Israel’s occupation of Palestinian lands have.
I’ve been writing critically on how the U.S. acted in Latin America for more than three decades. Unlike many scholars and students of the Middle East, I was able to do so and not be punished because, like Golub, I mostly focused on the “horrors inflicted” on people other than Palestinians. As President Richard Nixon put it all too accurately in 1971, nobody of import in the United States gives “one damn about Latin America.”
A general indifference to the region, as well as the fact that even the most diehard defenders of U.S. global power have been willing to concede that this country often acted in unhelpful ways in its own hemisphere (where Washington undertook at least 41 regime changes between 1898 and 1994!), have made it remarkably safe to speak out about Latin America. Yet, in 2025, the “horrors inflicted” are everywhere and it’s no longer possible to silo one’s sympathies.
Conquest, Then and Now
Consider the Spanish conquest of the Americas alongside Israel’s assault on Gaza. In many ways, the two events, separated by half a millennium, are incomparable. The first was continental in scale, a fight for a New World that was then home to, by some estimates, 100,000,000 people. The second unfolds on a patch of land the size of Las Vegas with a population of just over 2 million. The conquest would claim tens of millions of lives, while so far, Israel is estimated to have killed more than 50,000 Palestinians and injured tens of thousands more.
Yet there are uncanny parallels between the two conflicts, including the fact that each began in the wake of a communications revolution: the printing press then, social media now.
Spain was the first empire in modern history to actively publicize its colonial atrocities, as printers in Madrid, Seville, and other cities stamped out sheet after sheet of conquest gore: accounts of mass hangings, of babies drowned or roasted over fire pits to be fed to dogs, and of torched towns. One Spanish governor described a postapocalyptic landscape filled with the walking near-dead, victims of mutilations meted out to Native Americans, this way: a “multitude of lame and maimed Indians, without hands, or with only one hand, blind, their noses cut off, earless.” Today, the internet circulates countless photographs and videos with no less horrific images of atrocities committed by Israeli soldiers on Palestinians, of armless boys and “decomposing babies.” Some photographs of children starved by the Israel Defense Forces (IDF), according to a New York Times editor, were simply too “graphic” to publish.
In 16th-century Spain, common soldiers wrote, or paid others to write, their stories of mayhem, hoping to make a heroic name for themselves. Today, we see updated digital versions of a similar kind of conquering pride, as members of the IDF, on platforms like TikTok, upload videos of Gazans “stripped, bound, and blindfolded” and others showing bulldozers and tanks razing homes. Soldiers mock the destruction of schools and hospitals or, as they rummage through abandoned homes, are seen playing with or wearing the bras and underwear of their former residents.
Both Spanish officials then and Israeli spokesmen now have openly declared their intention to “conquer” their enemies by forcing their removal from their homes and concentrating them in more controllable areas. Not all Spanish, like not all Israelis, believed their enemies to be subhuman. But some did and do. Juan Ginés de Sepúlveda thought Native Americans were “brute animals,” as “monkeys are to men.” Israel Defense Minister Yoav Gallant calls Palestinians “human animals.” Many Spanish priests and royal officials admitted that Native Americans were human, but considered them child-like innocents who had to be violently severed from their pagan priests—just as Israel believes Palestinians have to be violently severed from Hamas. “We are separating Hamas from the population, cleansing the strip,” said Israel’s Finance Minister Bezalel Smotrich of the IDF’s extreme tactics.
Hernán Cortés had his men level Aztec temples, which he called mosques. Those temples served as healing places, and their destruction parallels the ruin visited on Gaza’s hospitals and other centers of refuge. Not even the dead were safe—neither in the Americas, nor today in Gaza. As did the conquistadores, the IDF has desecrated several burial grounds.
Spanish violence in the Americas provoked a powerful ethical backlash. The Dominican jurist Francisco Vitoria, for instance, questioned the legality of the Conquest, while Father Bartolomé de las Casas insisted on the absolute equality of all human beings, and other theologians of the time condemned the many varieties of enslavement imposed on Native Americans. Such declarations and condemnations were consequential in the long run. Yet they did little to stop the suffering. Arguments over the legality of the Conquest went on for decades, just as arguments over the legality of Israel’s occupation of Palestinian lands have.
“The Conquest,” as a singular uppercase event, might have been challenged, but all the individual battles that made up the Conquest, the morning massacres and midnight raids on Indigenous villages, simply went on. Spanish settlers took it for granted that, no matter what priests said from pulpits or jurists argued in seminar rooms, they had a right to “defend” themselves: that, were Indians to attack them, they could retaliate.
Here’s just one of many examples: in July 1503, Spanish settlers slaughtered over 700 residents in the village of Xaragua on Hispaniola (the island that today comprises Haiti and the Dominican Republic), killings that Spain’s Queen Isabella deemed “just” because some members of the village had started to violently resist Spanish rule. Israel uses the same kind of legalisms to insist that its war on Hamas is indeed similarly just, since Hamas started it. Just as the conflict on Hispaniola is sequestered from the larger context of the Conquest, the conflict that started on October 7, 2023, is isolated from the larger context of the Israeli occupation of Palestinian lands.
From Cortés to Hitler
The doctrine or “right” of conquest goes back to Roman times and, apart from the criticism aimed at Spain in the 1500s, remained mostly uncontested until the late 18th century, when—with the breaking free of the Americas from Europe—the doctrine found new champions and new critics.
The leaders of the new United States reinforced the doctrine, invoking the right of conquest to justify their drive westward toward the Pacific Ocean and their taking of Native American and Mexican lands.
At the end of WWII, with Adolf Hitler dead and fascism defeated, Latin America’s nations gladly joined in the creation of a postwar “rules-based” liberal order, the founding principles of which they had all already adopted.
Generations of law professors in the U.S. taught their students that the doctrine was legitimate. “The title of European nations, and which passed to the United States, to this vast territorial empire, was founded on discovery and conquest,” as James Kent put it at Columbia Law School in the 1790s. The Supreme Court, too, said that the United States was founded on conquest, and that its doctrine remained applicable. As late as 1928, a widely-assigned English-language law book insisted that, “as long as a Law of Nations has been in existence, the States, as well as the vast majority of writers, have recognized subjugation as a mode of acquiring territory,” deeming it legal for “the victor to annex the conquered enemy territory.”
In contrast, Spanish America’s independence leaders fiercely repudiated the principle of conquest. They had to, since they had to learn to live with each other, for they presided over seven new Spanish-American republics on a crowded continent. If they had adhered to a U.S. version of international law, what would have stopped Argentina from conquering Chile the way the United States conquered the Creeks and the Mexicans? Or Chile from marching on Argentina to gain access to the Atlantic? The result would have been endless war. And so, the region’s jurists and other intellectuals (drawing from earlier Catholic criticisms of Spain’s subjugation of the New World) disavowed conquest. In its place, they cobbled together a new framework of international relations that outlawed aggressive war and recognized the absolute sovereignty of all nations, regardless of their size.
For decades, Latin American diplomats tried to force Washington to accept such a vision of cooperative international law—and for decades Washington refused, not wanting to be a Gulliver tied down by a gaggle of Latin Lilliputians. Over time, however, U.S. statesmen began to grudgingly accept Latin America’s legal interpretations, with the far-sighted among them realizing that a reformed system of international law would allow for a more effective projection of Washington’s power. In 1890, at the first Pan-American Conference, the United States signed a provisional treaty abrogating the doctrine of conquest. In 1933, President Franklin Delano Roosevelt agreed to give up the right to intervene in Latin American affairs and to recognize the absolute sovereignty of all nations.
At the end of WWII, with Adolf Hitler dead and fascism defeated, Latin America’s nations gladly joined in the creation of a postwar “rules-based” liberal order, the founding principles of which they had all already adopted, especially the rejection of the doctrine of conquest.
Cortés to Hitler, the age of conquest, it seemed, was finally over.
The End of the End of the Age of Conquest
Not really, of course. Cold warriors found many ways to circumvent the “rules,” and didn’t need to cite Roman law doctrine to justify atrocities in Vietnam, Guatemala, or Indonesia, among other places. Then, after the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991, war began spreading again like wildfire in Europe, the Middle East, and Africa, including the U.S.-led first and second Gulf Wars.
Still, the liberal order globally held on to the idea that the world should be organized around cooperation, not competition, that nations had more interests in common than in contention.
Now, though, that idea seems to have been tossed aside and, in its place, comes a new vision of conquest. We see its burlesque version in the boastful pronouncements of U.S. President Donald Trump, who has casually claimed the right to use coercion to take the island of Greenland, annex Canada as “the 51st state,” grab the Panama Canal, and clear out Gaza, supposedly turning the strip into a Riviera-like resort. Far more ferocious expressions of that vision of conquest are seen in both Russian President Vladimir Putin’s war in Ukraine and Israel’s in Gaza.
Of those two wars of conquest, the second touches a deep nerve, in part because Israel’s existence is so tightly bound up with the fortunes of the liberal international order. The United Nations in 1949 conjured Israel (legally at least) into existence. Latin American nations at the time voted unanimously to recognize Israel’s nationhood, with Guatemala serving as Washington’s whip, ensuring that the region would act as a bloc. And the Holocaust has served as the West’s moral reference point, a nightmarish reminder of what awaits a world that forsakes liberal tolerance or doesn’t abide by liberal rules. At the same time, especially after the Six-Day War in 1967, the United Nations has also become the most persistent critic of Israel’s occupation of Gaza and the West Bank. Israel ignores U.N. criticism while invoking the U.N. charter’s article 51, which grants nations the right to self-defense, to justify its assault on Gazans.
As we enter what may be the final phase of the Gazan genocide, that long entwinement between a rules-based order and Israel has become a kind of death dance. Many turn away, unable to bear the news. Others can’t turn away, horrified that those in power in this country offer nothing other than more weapons to Israel, which continues to kill indiscriminately, while withholding all food and medicines from those trapped in Gaza. As of April, about 2 million Palestinians had no secure source of food at all. Babies continue to decompose. “When children die of starvation, they don’t even cry. Their little hearts just slow down until they stop,” said Colorado pediatrician Mohamed Kuziez, who works with Doctors Against Genocide.
In early May, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s security cabinet unanimously approved a plan dubbed Operation Gideon’s Chariots, which, if enacted, would drive all Gazans into a small containment zone in the southern part of that strip, with Israel controlling all food and medical aid to them. The IDF would then, as one official described the plan, complete “the conquest of the Gaza Strip.” Gaza, said Finance Minister Smotrich, will then be “completely destroyed.” He added grimly, “We conquer and stay.”
Back in the 1500s, the revulsion felt by some theologians and philosophers at the extreme brutality of the Spanish conquest began the “slow creation of humanity”—the fragile idea, nurtured over the centuries and always imperfectly applied, that all humans are indeed equal and form a single community beyond tribalism and nationalism. Today, a similar brutality is undoing that work. Humanity appears to be dissolving at an ever-quickening pace.
From Cortés to Netanyahu, Putin, and Trump, the end of the end of conquest begins.
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US Institutions Reward Latin American Leaders’ Crimes in the Name of Liberal Order
As long as these leaders pledge allegiance to the neoliberal order and the Washington Consensus, their authoritarian abuses are ignored, and they are embraced by elites.
Mar 15, 2025
On February 25, the Johns Hopkins School of Advanced International Studies, or SAIS, one of the most prestigious educational institutions in global affairs and an intellectual vanguard of the liberal order, held an event with former Mexican President Ernesto Zedillo. The theme: “Democratic Backsliding in Latin America.”
What the event crucially withheld is that Zedillo himself is responsible for crimes against humanity and the destruction of his country’s democratic system under the Partido Revolucionario Institucional’s “Perfect Dictatorship,” a period of uninterrupted 71-year rule.
Zedillo served as president from 1994 to 2000; he was the last heir of that era, during which the PRI kept rigging elections, threatening opposition parties, buying votes, and deploying security forces against opposition to hold on to power.
If Zedillo is lecturing on democratic backsliding, can we really expect him to acknowledge his own role in it?
Failing to mention his crimes was not an accident—it epitomized a broader, deliberate pattern of whitewashing of Latin American leaders responsible for horrendous crimes by U.S.-led, liberal institutions.
Within days of assuming office, Zedillo provoked the worst economic crisis in the country’s history, better known as the Peso Crisis, when he immediately devalued the peso by 15% and converted private banking debt to public debt, causing enormous economic strife, inequality, poverty, and death.
Zedillo also targeted political opponents including in his own party, and repeatedly used the state’s power against peaceful protesters. After years of calling Indigenous protesters demanding further autonomy “terrorists,” state security forces committed the Aguas Blancas and Acteal massacres under his watch. He attempted to suppress reporting on the massacres (only acknowledged decades later) and accelerated conflict with the Zapatistas, while categorically refusing to negotiate with the group despite its popular support against legitimate grievances.
Silence means access, and access bolsters the institution’s connections, at the cost of truth and progress. Voicing any concern over Zedillo’s blacklist of abuses might lead to Zedillo refusing to give the talk, which would affect SAIS’s prestigious image, no matter how it might pervert the school’s supposed educational mandate.
There are countless examples of this corrupt system at work. Former President of Colombia Iván Duque, who is largely responsible for purposefully tanking the Peace Accords and perpetuating civil conflict, as well as repeatedly using the military to kill peaceful protesters, was given a Global Fellowship with the Wilson Center’s Latin American Program and another at Cornell, and frequently visits prestigious think tanks and universities, including Georgetown, to lecture about democracy.
Alejandro Toledo, the disgraced former president of Peru now in jail for his role in the Odebrecht corruption scandal, has held positions at Stanford and Brookings. Álvaro Uribe, the former president of Colombia who exacerbated the War on Drugs and allegedly supported the far-right paramilitary death squads (now the largest drug producers in the country), was also given a fellowship at Georgetown. These are just a few examples of a long list of criminal Latin American leaders in prominent positions in liberal circles in Washington and beyond.
Former Ecuadorian President Guillermo Lasso, who suspended constitutional rights to deploy the military against protesters and drug cartels, and called an election to prevent Congress from holding him accountable for his corruption, was also given a column in the Wilson Center’s magazine (while he was being impeached), prompting my own resignation from the program. He was also offered a Senior Leadership Fellowship at the Florida International University, along with Juan Guiadó, Álvaro Uribe, and others.
To cite one last ongoing example, Ecuadorian President Daniel Noboa has also been parading around various universities and think tanks, particularly in Washington and Miami, allegedly earning significant cash and gifts despite Ecuadorian law preventing large foreign donations. Noboa has maintained a “state of exception” for more than 13 months, expanding state powers and suspending constitutional rights. Thousands have been arrested without trial, and the ensuing conflict has resulted in thousands more deaths, as the state feeds a worsening cycle of violence, disproportionately targeting marginalized populations, that shows little sign of letting up in the long-term. That includes four Afro-Ecuadorian boys, 15 years old and younger, who were murdered by military forces in Guayaquil late last year. Barring a major shift, it is expected that Noboa will be offered a cushy fellowship or consulting golden parachute in the United States after leaving office.
Their crimes seem to cause no pain for the American liberal intelligentsia, who are supposed to uphold an order based on “rules and norms.” Rather, they seem to be applied selectively based on naked national interest.
As long as these leaders pledge allegiance to the neoliberal order and the Washington Consensus, their authoritarian abuses are ignored, and they are embraced by elites. Attendees, organizers, and institutions enable this whitewashing to protect their geopolitical and economic interests—whether to uphold liberal order or, more cynically, to maintain U.S. control over Latin American sovereignty.
This revolving door extends beyond think tanks and universities—many of these disgraced leaders secure high-paying consulting roles with American firms, advising on the very legal and political systems they once manipulated. Zedillo, beyond his talk at SAIS (and his fellowship at Yale), is also a consultant with various American companies including Citigroup and Coca-Cola, for which he manages multi-million-dollar portfolios.
Evidently, this system has permeated through all institutions belonging to the old liberal order, whether they be think tanks, educational institutions, development organizations, or multilateral regional organizations, all of which have repeatedly provided cover, and even support, to criminal leaders from the region, in the name, supposedly, of “democracy and freedom.”
This incestuous system, consequently, rewards terrible leaders who pay lip service to liberalism, contributing to the perpetuation of institutionalized corruption, human rights abuses, and democratic backsliding in Latin America.
For those consuming these institutions' output—events, speeches, research, and courses—this corrupt cycle distorts the truth, obscuring the crucial historical and political context behind future policy decisions. If Zedillo is lecturing on democratic backsliding, can we really expect him to acknowledge his own role in it?
Having these bad actors as messengers also incentivizes the next generation to participate in the corrupt system themselves, having the leaders as mentors. The leaders, coming from a very powerful position with immense connections and social and economic capital, can provide internships, fellowships, and other opportunities, often with financial reward (and thus ownership). Mentees will then become part of the sociopolitical caste that birthed the corrupt leaders, be fed revisionist history, and perpetuate the cycle further, damaging progress for generations.
This incestuous system rewarding corruption and loyalty to the American-led liberal order should be called out at every turn. Certain heterodox analysts, scholars, journalists, and activists, have themselves been critical, incurring significant professional risks to speak truth to power. Some of these events and appointments, for instance, Uribe’s appointment to Georgetown, have been widely protested.
These critical debates are not “grey areas” or a “game,” they are part of a broader, centuries-long effort for independence, sovereignty, and popular rule, despite very well-funded colonial efforts, including by liberal elites in Washington, against self-determination.
As Eduardo Galeano wrote in his iconic The Open Veins of Latin America, “History never really says goodbye. History says, ‘See you later.’” The weaponization of democracy and freedom by liberal elite institutions to cover up pro-American regional leaders’ crimes for imperial interests is a mere repackaging of Monroe Doctrine dogma, and it won’t go away until it is gutted inside and out.
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The Dangerous Folly of Labeling Mexican Cartels 'Terrorist Organizations'
Combining the failed strategies of the war on terror and the war on drugs is not just misguided—it’s doubling down on failure.
Feb 25, 2025
In the capricious tapestry that is U.S. foreign policy, you can find a recurring pattern: Washington champions sovereignty as a holy principle of the international order when it aligns with its interests—think Ukraine under Biden—but casually disregards it when inconvenient.
The latest thread in this tapestry is last Thursday’s unprecedented State Department decision to formally designate eight groups, including major Mexican drug cartels such as the Sinaloa Cartel and Jalisco New Generation Cartel, as Foreign Terrorist Organizations (FTOs). Beneath the Trumpian tough-on-crime pose lies a policy that threatens to violate Mexico’s sovereignty and destabilize a vital relationship, and reinforces the imperialist tendency that has caused so much damage here in the U.S. and across the globe.
Labeling cartels as FTOs isn’t just a symbolic gesture; it opens the door for military intervention under the guise of counterterrorism. The U.S. could justify drone strikes or cross-border raids without Mexico’s consent—a blatant affront to its sovereignty. President Claudia Sheinbaum highlighted: “This classification should not serve as a pretext for the United States to invade our sovereignty.” Any such military intervention would violate Congress’s constitutional war powers, but Trump is unlikely to respect such legal niceties.
The desire to rise out of extreme poverty can not be bombed out of existence.
Elon Musk has made this clear. Musk recently declared on his social media platform that the FTO designation would make cartels “eligible for drone strikes,” a comment that is both legally dubious and deeply unsettling.
They’re Entrepreneurial Criminals, Not Terrorist Ideologues
Mexican cartels are not terrorists in the way most people understand that word. They’re not trying to overthrow governments or spread extremist beliefs. Yes, they commit horrific acts of violence—killings, kidnappings, extortion—but their primary motive is profit, not ideology. As the narcocorrido (“drug ballad,” a musical genre popular on both sides of the border) "Clave Privada" by Banda el Recodo goes:
I was poor for a long time
Many people humiliated me
I began to earn money...
Things are flipped around now
Now they call me boss.
Understanding the driver of these cartels isn’t rocket science: it’s all about the Miguelitos (i.e. the 1000 peso note). Imposing travel bans might inconvenience cartel leaders but it won’t dismantle their billion-dollar empires. The terrorist designation is unlikely to even cut profit margins because many cartels are already designated as transnational criminal organizations (TCOs), so the FTO designation does not provide significant new policy tools to target their finances.
Drone attacks are unlikely to stop a notoriously violent business where cartel leaders are already frequently killed in assassinations by competitors or shootouts with government forces. The war on terror has shown to the U.S. that “Decapitate the Kingpin” is a loser’s game. In fact, Mexico’s own “kingpin strategy” targeting and elimination of high-ranking cartel members has created power vacuums and increased violence. Combining the failed strategies of the war on terror and the war on drugs is not just misguided—it’s doubling down on failure.
The desire to rise out of extreme poverty can not be bombed out of existence. Meanwhile, the other main drivers of this problem are illicit markets fueled by U.S. demand for drugs and corruption within Mexico—issues that require smarter policies to address. Words matter in policymaking. Using “terrorist” as a catch-all term is already destructive and distorting, from the U.S. “war on terror” to the Netanyahu-Biden-Trump war in Gaza to China’s oppression of the Uighur in Xinjiang. This action exacerbates the problem.
The Imperialist Echo
There’s something disturbingly familiar about this whole idea—a familiar whiff of paternalism. For decades, the U.S. has intervened in Latin America under various pretexts: fighting communism during the Cold War, waging war on drugs in the 1980s and 1990s, and now combating “terrorism.” The results have often been disastrous for the region. Designating cartels as FTOs feels like another chapter in this playbook: framing another country’s problems as existential threats to justify American imperialism. So long liberal internationalism, hello Make the Monroe Doctrine Great Again.
This approach doesn’t work in today’s interconnected world. Problems associated with drug trafficking—and migration—don’t respect borders; they require multilateral solutions rooted in trust and mutual respect—not unilateral declarations from Washington. Meanwhile, Trump is cutting thoughtful, nonviolent programs like U.S. funding for an organization that has reduced the number of children recruited by gangs to help move drugs and migrants across the border. Trump froze another program targeting fentanyl and methamphetamine trafficking at key ports.
A Smarter Path Forward
None of this is meant to downplay the seriousness of cartel violence or its devastating impact on both sides of the border. Tackling this issue requires nuance and humility—especially from the U.S.. Instead of designating cartels as FTOs, policymakers should focus on strategies that address root causes: reducing demand for drugs through treatment programs; cracking down on gun trafficking from the U.S. into Mexico as some members of Congress are working to do; supporting anti-corruption efforts within Mexico; and strengthening bilateral cooperation rather than undermining it.
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