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military-industrial complex
Finally, Someone in Congress Is Listening to Our Pleas for Military Budget Cuts
While congressional efforts to reign in military spending face steep odds of passing, growing pushback shows us that a different path is possible.
Jun 11, 2026
Last week, Democratic Massachusetts Rep. Seth Moulton introduced an amendment to the National Defense Authorization Act, or NDAA, that would have cut $150 billion from the president’s proposed military budget. While it didn’t pass, 12 members of the House Armed Services Committee voted against advancing the bill, signaling a shift from decades of bipartisan support for unchecked spending on weapons and war.
Now the NDAA goes to the Senate, where resistance to unchecked military spending is also on the rise. The Senate Appropriations Committee has repeatedly delayed action on the budget because of disagreements between the parties over top-line numbers. This pushback is even more critical as the war in Iran again escalates. Congress must say no to more war and war funding.
The majority of people in the US don’t want endless wars that line the pockets of military contractors while making life harder for everyone else. If more lawmakers start following the will of their constituents, it could point the way to a brighter and safer future for all.
This year, the military budget soared past $1 trillion dollars, paid for by cuts made to Medicaid, food assistance programs, infrastructure funds, and more. Overall, nearly 72% of all discretionary spending went to pay for the military, homeland security, Immigration and Customs Enforcement, and other related programs. The National Priorities Project estimated that on Tax Day this year, the average taxpayer paid over $4,000 for weapons and war.
A $1 trillion military will not save us from climate change, overdose deaths, or industrial accidents. It won’t even save us from another military.
If President Donald Trump has his way, those numbers will be even higher next year. The presidential budget released this April seeks $1.5 trillion for military spending.
The $500 billion increase exceeds the total combined amounts the US spent in 2025 on public health, education, job training, transportation, agriculture, and vital safety net programs like the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program and childcare. And even these massive cuts to lifesaving social programs are not enough to cover the massive proposed military expenditure. Trump’s budget would drive the country further into debt.
The president, the weapons company lobbyists, and most of Congress want us to believe that this money is a generational investment in our security. They want us to believe that there is no price too high for safety. But a $1 trillion investment in weapons won’t keep us safe in the same way that a $1 trillion investment in umbrellas won’t keep us dry in the ocean. The problems we face—in our communities, in the United States, and globally—require solutions that reduce violence rather than compounding it.
Over the past quarter century the US has spent trillions of dollars on wars and militarism, but global and national risks have only increased. The post-9/11 "War on Terror" resulted in up to 5 million direct and indirect deaths, yet the Taliban is back in power in Afghanistan, the destabilization of Iraq directly contributed to the creation of ISIS, and in 2025 there were more violent conflicts between states than any time since WWII.
The Trump administration’s unprovoked war against Iran is just the latest example of the spectacular failures of military force. While the US was able to quickly destroy key Iranian infrastructure, months later they are now in a weaker negotiating position than at the outset. The cost of continued war—both in dollars and lives—is unconscionable.
The US military is the most expensive, lethal, and technologically advanced the world has ever seen, and US military spending is more than 60 times that of Iran. The idea that we can, and should, resource an enormous military prepared to fight both Russia and China simultaneously is preposterous. Continuing to throw trillions of dollars away on weapons that we hope to never use in wars that we can never win makes no sense. Peace, not war, requires generational investments in security. Getting there will require courageous action from our elected officials.
A $1 trillion military will not save us from climate change, overdose deaths, or industrial accidents. It won’t even save us from another military. It is time for a new paradigm. Real generational security comes when people are housed, fed, healthy, and have hope for a better future.
This is not a call to turn inward, but to invest in international cooperation rather than international destruction. Addressing global problems through international investment isn’t a utopian vision. Spending even a fraction of the military budget to address the root causes of poverty and conflict would have a massive domestic and global impact. If the US reduced military spending, other countries would be likely to follow, freeing up global resources to meet human needs.
Internationally, the World Food Program estimates that it would cost $93 billion per year to end world hunger by 2030. Ending extreme global poverty would cost approximately $300 billion per year—a fraction of the US military budget. At home, the child tax credit gave $2,000 per child to all US families with children. That program could be continued with less than half of the increase sought for the military.
There are some signs of hope. Recent war powers votes have received far more support, across party lines, than previous ones. While congressional efforts to reign in military spending face steep odds of passing, growing pushback shows us that a different path is possible. Refusing to rubber stamp a deadly status quo takes courage and resolve. Congress must vote against military spending increases; continue to advocate for spending cuts; and invest in diplomacy, development, human rights, and human needs. That is where real security can be found.
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The One Conscience Claim America Won’t Honor
Religious liberty claims win everywhere, except when it comes to financing war.
Jun 04, 2026
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.
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The US Fails Young People by Mobilizing for War, Not Jobs
A country is not secure simply because it can strike targets, protect bases, or surge forces across oceans. It is secure when its people can see a future worth defending.
May 22, 2026
Washington usually measures American decline in external terms: China’s rise, Russia’s revisionism, strained alliances, and military crises in the Middle East. But one of the clearest warnings is coming from inside the United States. In 2025, only 43% of Americans ages 15 to 34 said it was a good time to find a job where they lived, 21 points below Americans 55 and older. In no other surveyed country was the generational gap this wide.
That finding should unsettle a country that is still speaking the language of primacy. Young Americans are not turning gloomy because they have forgotten how to be optimistic. They are reading the economy in front of them. Youth unemployment stood at 9.5% in April. Renter cost burdens hit a record 22.7 million households in 2024. The share of first-time home buyers fell to a record-low 21%, while the median first-time buyer’s age rose to 40. For a generation told that education, discipline, and work would translate into stability, the bargain looks broken.
This is not only a domestic story. It is also a foreign policy failure, because budgets reveal what a government treats as urgent. The Defense Department’s 2026 request totaled $961 billion, among the largest inflation-adjusted requests of the past half century. Additional military-related funding has pushed “national defense” spending beyond $1 trillion. The point is not that every dollar spent on the Pentagon could be mechanically converted into a job, an apartment, or a mortgage. The point is that Washington still knows how to mobilize at scale—but most reliably when the beneficiaries are weapons programs, contractors, and permanent military infrastructure.
The war with Iran has made that imbalance harder to ignore. By May, the US campaign had cost an estimated $29 billion, including operations and equipment repair or replacement. The conflict has also disrupted energy flows through one of the world’s most important corridors, raising the risk that households already squeezed by rent, debt, insurance, and food costs will face still more pressure. For young workers, “foreign policy” is not abstract when it comes back as higher prices, lower confidence, and another delay in leaving home.
If Washington continues to protect an empire more energetically than it protects the next generation’s prospects, the damage will not remain hidden in surveys.
Washington often treats these costs as unfortunate side effects of leadership. They are better understood as evidence of an outdated model of security. A country is not secure simply because it can strike targets, protect bases, or surge forces across oceans. It is secure when its people can see a future worth defending. A state that can finance escalation faster than housing, debt relief, or public investment teaches its younger citizens a bleak lesson: Their insecurity is manageable, but imperial credibility is an emergency.
A serious foreign policy would start from that recognition. It would pursue diplomacy with Iran rather than convert each crisis into a test of dominance. It would restore the congressional role in decisions of war and peace. It would subject military spending to the same moral and fiscal scrutiny imposed on social programs. And it would treat economic security at home as part of national security, not as an afterthought to be discussed after the next supplemental defense bill.
This is not a call for withdrawal from the world. It is a call to abandon the habit of confusing militarization with responsibility. The United States can cooperate, mediate, trade, provide humanitarian assistance, and support climate resilience without treating armed escalation as the default proof of seriousness. In fact, a foreign policy built around restraint would be more credible abroad precisely because it would be more defensible at home.
The warning from young Americans is not just that the job market feels weak. It is that the future feels rationed. If Washington continues to protect an empire more energetically than it protects the next generation’s prospects, the damage will not remain hidden in surveys. It will appear in politics, institutions, and the country’s declining ability to persuade anyone—including its own citizens—that American power still serves a public purpose. The real measure of decline is not only what rivals do to the United States. It is what the United States keeps choosing to do to itself.
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