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While Simon Bolivar has been right for 200 years, the US is not doomed to act this way forever.
Simon Bolivar, the great liberator of South America, famously observed, “The United States appear(s) to be destined by Providence to plague America with misery in the name of liberty.” For 200 years, US leaders have never proved him wrong.
In the early 1800s, Bolivar led what is now Venezuela and five other countries to independence from the Spanish Empire. But the United States still refuses to recognize the independence of other countries in the region. Wannabe emperor Donald Trump even refers to Canadian prime minister Mark Carney as a “governor,” as if Canada was merely another US state.
The US-backed despots replacing popular democratic and socialist governments across Latin America today are indeed doing so in the name of liberty, as Bolivar warned. But in practice this means only the liberty of traditional ruling classes to exploit, impoverish and kill their less privileged neighbors, formerly as conquistadors and compradors for the Spanish Empire and now as agents of the US government and transnational corporations.
Trump’s 2025 National Security Strategy (NSS) vowed to “restore American preeminence in the Western hemisphere.” It reiterated the 19th century Monroe Doctrine, demanded “sole source contracts to our companies,” and promised to “push out foreign countries that build infrastructure in the region.”
Then came the most blatant demonstration of what Trump’s new Monroe Doctrine means in practice: the US invasion of Venezuela. On January 3, 2026, US forces bombed targets in Venezuela, stormed Caracas and kidnapped President Nicolás Maduro and his wife, Cilia Flores. Trump has openly declared that the United States would “run” Venezuela and recently claimed that the U.S. had secured the biggest oil deal in world history.
And Venezuela is not the only place where the US is using military force. The “war on drugs” has become a pretext for expanding US military power throughout the region. Since September 2025, the US military has incinerated small boats in the Caribbean and eastern Pacific, killing at least 227 people without providing proof that they committed any crime. US forces are now participating in counternarcotics operations inside Ecuador, while the Trump administration is seeking similar joint military operations in Colombia, Honduras and other countries.
But military force is only one weapon in Washington’s arsenal. Trump has also cajoled, threatened and encouraged people throughout Latin America to elect extreme right-wing authoritarian presidents in his own image. Before Argentina’s 2025 midterm elections, Trump offered Javier Milei’s far-right government a $20 billion currency lifeline and backed another $20 billion in financing, while warning that US generosity depended on Milei’s political success. After Milei’s party won, Trump boasted, “He had a lot of help from us.”
Across the continent—from Colombia and Peru to Argentina, Chile, Ecuador, Honduras, Bolivia and Panama—there has been a stark reversal of the region's progressive pink tide that brought hope for a more independent and socially just Latin America. The only two major powers in Latin America still governed by the left are Mexico and Brazil—and Brazil faces a fiercely contested presidential election in October.
The progressive coalitions that came to power in Latin America had forged impressive grassroots ties between indigenous and rural communities in heavily exploited areas and urban working classes, linking struggles over identity, land and sovereignty with struggles over class and economic justice. But these broad coalitions were fragile, while the economic and institutional power of entrenched oligarchies remained largely intact. Those elites were never going to surrender their wealth and power without a fight.
And that fight is hardly unique to Latin America. In the United States, oligarchs are reacting furiously to the election victories of democratic socialists, who propose real-world solutions to America’s problems that would improve ordinary people’s lives instead of making the rich even richer, as our current system of neoliberal capitalism demands. In Latin America and the Caribbean, the same battle is playing out on a larger and often more brutal scale.
The right has capitalized on genuine voter concerns about crime, drug trafficking, economic hardship and, in some cases, immigration. Promises to eradicate violent crime through harsh crackdowns modeled on El Salvador’s Nayib Bukele resonate with many voters.
Just as Americans who are disillusioned by economic insecurity and the broken promises of the Democrats have turned to Donald Trump and the Republicans as the only alternative on offer within this undemocratic two-party system, elections in Latin America present voters with similarly narrow and deliberately confusing choices that can lead to the election of Trump-allied right-wing governments.
This pattern is also reflected in the news media that frame these choices for voters. Since the 1980s, Latin American broadcast media have become increasingly dominated by a small number of large commercial conglomerates, mostly tied to wealthy, powerful families. Latin America lacks the public broadcasting and community media that balance the dominance of commercial media in other parts of the world, although, as in the United States, there is a small but growing alternative media movement, with outlets like TeleSur, Brasil do Fato, La Jornada and Kawsachun News.
The United States also has a narrow range of dominant corporate media, but Latin America’s media are even more concentrated and responsive to oligarchic interests. The market concentration of Latin American media conglomerates is among the highest in the world, with four transnational companies controlling 89% of the broadcast media across six major countries, while Mexican billionaire Carlos Slim has the largest media holdings anywhere. The market power of these huge media conglomerates is a real obstacle to any movement for democracy or socialism.
Another major factor working against progressive forces is direct intervention from the United States. As working people come together to organize coalitions for structural change in Latin America and the Caribbean, the United States pours money into right-wing political movements to counter them.
The US-funded National Endowment for Democracy (NED), has spent billions of dollars to interfere in the political systems of countries around the world, especially to organize opposition to governments that won’t take orders from Washington. Allan Weinstein, who helped to create the NED, told the Washington Post in 1991, “A lot of what we do today was done covertly 25 years ago by the CIA.”
The NED’s annual budget for Latin America and the Caribbean in 2025 was $36.7 million. But the NED spends most of its money in the countries where the US has the least influence, so it spent the largest amounts in Cuba, Venezuela and Nicaragua, and the most globally in China and Russia.
In countries where the US already has more influence through existing ruling classes and captive corporate media, it protects and promotes its interests through ideologically-crafted NGOs. Some receive direct US funding, while others are funded by corporate sponsors and foundations.
An organization that plays an outsized role in Latin America is the Atlas Network, a sprawling international network that brings together corporate interests, conservative donors and extreme right-wing groups to coordinate their activities. The Atlas Network receives no direct US government funding, but the US does fund many of the NGOs and foundations that Atlas works with to build right-wing coalitions and parties.
Atlas Network was founded in San Francisco in 1981 by Sir Antony Fisher, a British businessman and a colleague of Margaret Thatcher, Milton Friedman and F.A. Hayek, who all reportedly approved of his Atlas Network project. Atlas works in the shadows as “a think tank that creates think tanks,” and trains its partners on “how to win the battle for hearts and minds.” It has annual revenue of $28 million and works with more than 500 partner organizations in nearly 100 countries.
Atlas has a long history of connections to powerful corporate interests. In the 1990s it was strongly linked with the tobacco industry, and the UK’s Tobacco Control Research Group reported that Atlas “appears to have played a particular role in helping the tobacco industry oppose tobacco control measures in Latin America.” Atlas also has long-standing links with ExxonMobil and the Charles Koch Foundation.
More recently, the Atlas Network has been linked to Donald Trump, the Brexit campaign in the UK, and to protest movements against left-wing governments in Latin America.
Atlas and its partners set up fake online accounts to boost the #SOSCuba campaign on Twitter during protests in Cuba in 2021, and also ran trolling campaigns during the 2019 coup in Bolivia and elections in Ecuador and Peru. Atlas also worked with the now jailed Argentine right-wing fixer Fernando Cemedo to orchestrate “Gen Z” protests against the Scheinbaum government in Mexico in November 2025.
In Brazil, where agribusiness is gradually destroying the Amazon rainforest, climate science denial is a central part of Atlas’s work. Atlas Network sponsors the annual Liberty Forum, which brings right-wing groups together with the agribusiness industry to plan their strategy and messaging in Brazil. Atlas’s main partner organizing the Liberty Forums is the libertarian Institute for Business Studies, which has close links to the jailed former president Jair Bolsonaro. His son, Flavio, is challenging President Lula in October’s presidential election.
Another influential US ideological export to Latin America is evangelical protestant Christianity, which has grown from 4% of the population 50 years ago to 20-25% today. As in the United States, evangelical Christianity is a political force as much as a religion, leading movements against abortion, homosexuality and liberal, scientific education, and often supporting brutal state violence in the name of law and order.
The spread of evangelical christianity in Latin America was a deliberate Cold War policy launched by the US Information Agency in 1954 as a weapon against communism and later used to counter the growing influence of liberation theology among Catholics.
By the 1980s, Guatemala had its first evangelical president, Efrain Rios Montt, who seized power in a 1982 coup and conducted a US-backed genocide against the Mayan indigenous people, particularly the Ixil. Ríos Montt’s evangelical faith helped him cultivate powerful allies among US evangelicals, who raised money for his regime and lobbied Congress to restore US military aid even as evidence of massacres mounted.
Incredibly, evangelical Christianity has kept spreading in Guatemala since the end of the civil war in the 1990s, even among the Ixil themselves. The evangelical religion has become deeply rooted in the Ixil region even as survivors have struggled with the legacy of a genocide carried out under an evangelical dictator.
On a trip to Guatemala, Nicolas met a family in Ixil whose father was beheaded by an army death squad, after being accused of giving food to the Guerrilla Army of the Poor. His widow joined a weaving collective of genocide survivors, working long hours on a back-strap loom to weave the beautiful, intricate geometric designs that Ixil women are famous for. And yet, like many Ixil families in the decades since the genocide, the family had also joined an evangelical church.
It is tragic to see the recent resurgence of right-wing parties and politicians in Latin America and the Caribbean, but indigenous and working people are resisting, and they deserve our solidarity.
The mostly indigenous people of Bolivia have endured two right-wing coups in less than 10 years, but they have learned that when they say “No,” they have the power to down tools, withdraw their labor, block the roads and shut down the system that provides profits to the ruling class. They deserve our support.
The people of Cuba are enduring their worst test since the revolution, as the United States tightens its already deadly blockade, denying them fuel, electricity, medicine and even food. Many are dying of preventable causes at the hands of Trump and the US government. For 68 years, American politicians of both parties have tried and failed to snuff out this dangerous example of a poor country that, until this latest brutal escalation of the blockade, provided better healthcare to its people than the United States does. They too deserve our support.
The people of Brazil are going to the polls, and millions are standing up to Trump’s threats, manipulation by the Atlas Network, hypocritical sermons in evangelical churches, and the sneering arrogance and greed of Bolsonaro and his cronies. They too deserve our support.
In Argentina, Chile, Colombia and Honduras, brave people are already resisting the austerity and abuses of new right-wing rulers, as they have all done many times before. They all deserve our support.
In much of Latin America, the right’s grip on power is tenuous. The recent presidential elections in Colombia and Peru were extraordinarily close and many new right-wing governments face deeply divided parliaments and powerful opposition movements. We might well see a new wave of progressive politicians taking power across the region in less than four years.
For those of us in the United States, our job is to stop our government from interfering. While Simon Bolivar has been right for 200 years, the US is not doomed to act this way forever. It can and must stop exploiting, impoverishing and killing its neighbors.
Washington says it wants the Lebanese state to reclaim authority, but Beirut is still being asked to move first while Israeli withdrawal remains conditional.
This week, the argument over Lebanese sovereignty became concrete on a ridge overlooking Nabatieh. The New Arab reported on August 24 that Washington is pressing for the strategic Ali al-Taher ridge, where Hezbollah fighters are present, to be transferred to the Lebanese Army in exchange for Israeli withdrawal. The same area has been subjected to repeated Israeli shelling. In one small patch of southern Lebanon, the larger problem is suddenly hard to hide: Beirut is being asked to move first, while the withdrawal of foreign forces from Lebanese territory remains the inducement offered in return.
That pressure did not begin this week. Reuters reported in July 2025 that Washington was pressing Lebanon to make a formal cabinet commitment to disarm Hezbollah before talks could continue on halting Israeli military operations. Lebanese officials were told that without such a commitment, the United States would stop sending its envoy and would no longer press Israel to halt airstrikes or withdraw troops. Even the Washington Institute for Near East Policy, which strongly favors disarmament, later described Lebanon's policy shift as having been adopted “under duress.”
Call it diplomacy if you like. It is still leverage. And it is being applied unevenly. Lebanon is expected to reduce its own side's military leverage first, while Israeli withdrawal is treated as something Lebanon must earn through compliance. If sovereignty means anything, it should not mean that a weaker country first dismantles its deterrent while a stronger military power keeps troops on its land.
None of this requires pretending Hezbollah has made no miscalculations. In March, after Hezbollah fired on Israel during the US-Israeli war with Iran, Lebanon's cabinet prohibited Hezbollah's military and security activities and ordered it to surrender its weapons to the state. The principle behind that decision is legitimate. A political movement, however rooted or powerful, should not be able to decide by itself when an entire country goes to war.
That is what real sovereignty would look like: not simply fewer Hezbollah weapons, but a Lebanese state strong enough that people no longer feel they need Hezbollah for protection, reconstruction, or basic support.
But sovereignty cannot stop at Hezbollah's weapons. It also has to mean that Israeli troops leave Lebanese territory and that Israeli strikes do not become a permanent feature of Lebanese life. Washington itself warned Israel this month that a permanent military presence in southern Lebanon would conflict with the US-backed framework. Yet the practical sequence still asks Beirut to show progress first. For many Lebanese in the south, that does not feel like state building. It feels like being told to surrender under fire.
There is another reality that is often flattened out of the American debate: Hezbollah is more than an arsenal. Its institutions became deeply rooted because they stepped into places where the Lebanese state was weak, slow, or absent. CNN reported as far back as 2006 that Hezbollah was providing water, helping pay medical costs, running schools, and collecting garbage in communities where government capacity was thin. The Council on Foreign Relations still describes a broad network of Hezbollah-linked healthcare, schools, infrastructure, and youth programs.
Calling that a “state within a state” is not far-fetched. But the phrase contains an uncomfortable admission: There was space for a parallel state because the official one repeatedly left a vacuum.
After the 2006 war, NPR found Hezbollah moving into reconstruction within hours of the ceasefire, assessing damage and distributing assistance while the government struggled to respond. For families standing in front of rubble, that was not an abstract debate about militias. It was help arriving when they needed it. People remember that.
The pattern returned after the 2024 war. The World Bank estimated Lebanon's reconstruction and recovery needs at $11 billion. While Lebanon searched for financing, Hezbollah's Jihad al-Bina network was already surveying damaged communities and paying compensation. Le Monde reported in early 2025 that Hezbollah had paid about $400 million to roughly 140,000 people. The effort was imperfect, and residents complained about delays. But it was there, visible on the ground, while the state had nothing comparable at that scale.
The same failure of formal institutions helped the Hezbollah-linked Al-Qard al-Hassan network grow during Lebanon's banking collapse. Families turned to it because ordinary depositors had been locked out of their savings. The United States has sanctioned Al-Qard al-Hassan officials and says the institution helps Hezbollah evade sanctions and move money. That allegation belongs in the picture. So does the reason such an institution became useful to ordinary people: The formal banking system had failed them.
This is the part a disarmament order cannot solve. Remove the weapons, and then what? Who fills the security gap along the border? Who rebuilds the next damaged neighborhood? Who replaces the clinics, schools, relief networks, and financial lifelines people have relied on for years? Lebanon's army can and should become the country's sole military authority. But it cannot also become a nationwide welfare system and reconstruction agency overnight.
There is a path out, but the order matters. Hezbollah should ultimately give up its military role and function as a political and social organization. Israel should withdraw fully from Lebanese territory, with an enforceable mechanism to stop renewed attacks and violations. At the same time, Lebanon and its international partners need to build institutions strong enough to replace the civilian functions that helped Hezbollah become indispensable to many communities.
That is what real sovereignty would look like: not simply fewer Hezbollah weapons, but a Lebanese state strong enough that people no longer feel they need Hezbollah for protection, reconstruction, or basic support.
The Ali al-Taher dispute shows why sequencing is not an academic concern. When Washington asks Beirut to take control of a strategic position in exchange for Israeli withdrawal, it reinforces the very perception that has sustained Hezbollah's argument for decades: that Lebanon is expected to prove its sovereignty by satisfying conditions imposed from outside. You cannot build a sovereign state by removing structures people rely on and promising that the state will catch up later. Build the security, capacity, and trust first. Then disarmament becomes a transfer of responsibility to a functioning state rather than an act of surrender to someone else's timetable.
Upon the dismal record of the 21st century’s first four administrations, President Donald Trump, since reentering the White House in 2025, has pounded the final nail in the coffin of trust for American leadership.
While the US has a long history of signing treaties, making commitments, and then walking away from them (ask Native American tribes about this), this century’s record of American policy in the Middle East is something quite extraordinary. Dramatic policy shifts, broken treaties, promises made and forgotten, foolish wars fought without attention paid to the mess left for others, and the shattering of international law and conventions—all of these have done substantial damage to the region and to the trust that others have in the US.
It’s convenient for Republicans and Democrats to point the finger at the “other side” for America’s loss of standing and support in the world. In reality, there’s plenty of blame to be shared by all of this century’s administrations. President George W. Bush started the disastrous wars and occupations of Afghanistan and Iraq, but Presidents Barack Obama and Joseph Biden ended both badly, compounding the damage that had been done. And while Bush may have flaunted international law and conventions with the use of torture, rendition, and extrajudicial targeted killings, Obama further undermined the US’ commitment to the rule of law by refusing to call for accountability for these crimes.
Biden waxed eloquent in his defense of what he called the “international rules-based order.” But he undercut himself when it became clear that his commitment was selective since it only applied to Russia’s invasion of Ukraine and not to Israel’s genocidal policies in Palestine.
And speaking of Palestine, during the first quarter of this century, no administration has taken the firm measures needed to curb Israeli behaviors in the occupied Palestinian territories or in Lebanon and now Syria. The impact has been clear: Israel acts with impunity, Palestinians have lost hope, and the people of the region have lost even a shred of belief that the US can play a constructive role in peacemaking.
If the US is to even have a place in this new order, we will need more than a just a new president with promises of change.
Upon this dismal record of this century’s first four administrations, President Donald Trump, since reentering the White House in 2025, has pounded the final nail in the coffin of trust for American leadership in the Middle East.
While on one occasion Biden went to the United Nations Security Council and secured passage of a ceasefire for Gaza—telling the council that Israel approved it, knowing full well that Israel had not agreed to its terms—Trump has taken this practice of dissembling even further. With great fanfare he assembled leaders to an event celebrating his 20-point peace plan to end the Gaza conflict. The problem, of course, was that none of the combatant parties—neither Hamas nor especially Israel—had agreed to its terms. And Trump’s boastful handling of his war with Iran has reached new levels of absurdity. On at least 42 occasions he has announced that the war was over, he had won, or that Iran was begging to negotiate on his terms, only to pivot a day or two later threatening, in violent or vulgar language, to obliterate Iran if they didn’t, as he put it, “wave the white flag” of surrender.
Added to this mess are the thousands of Lebanese who’ve been killed and the scores of villages laid waste by Israel since the Trump-backed ceasefire, the displacement and frightening violence that Israeli settlers and soldiers are wreaking in the West Bank, the continuing genocide unfolding in Gaza, and the insecurity in the Arab Gulf States housing US bases which are being recklessly attacked by Iranian missiles and drones. It is no wonder that Arabs have lost faith not only in the US’ commitment to regional peace and security, but also to the trustworthiness of the US as an ally.
A problem so big can’t be fixed by one US election. After decades of a dizzying roller coaster ride of wars based on lies, violations of international laws and conventions, promises made and then broken, and now an administration that acts impulsively and makes contradictory pronouncements as if words have no meaning—trust has been lost.
After the disasters resulting from the Bush administration’s Iraq war; its anti-Arab, anti-Muslim domestic policies; and its ill-conceived “democracy agenda,” President Obama traveled to Cairo to deliver a speech designed to open a new chapter in US relations with the region. After seven years without decisive follow-through on the promises he’d made in his Cairo address, Obama gave a long interview to The Atlantic magazine in which he blamed the Arabs for not doing enough. When I spoke with him about the speech and that interview, he told me that the expectations of the Arabs had been too high. I responded that he was the one who set the high expectations and made the promises that he would “change Washington, change America, and change the world.” “Don’t blame them,” I said, “for believing you.”
What’s evident now is that the Arab world isn’t believing US promises or even our words. They are beginning to find their way in a post-US world order by creating new alliances, finding new partners, and putting their own interests first. If the US is to even have a place in this new order, we will need more than a just a new president with promises of change. What will be required is a thoughtful examination of our decades of shortcomings and betrayals leading to new policies toward justice for Palestinians and regional partnerships and security. But acknowledging the problems is only the first step. A demonstrated and sustained commitment to implement a changed approach to the multiple crises we have helped to create or exacerbate across the region must follow. Since it took us a generation to dig deep holes for ourselves in the Arab World, getting out won’t be quick or easy. Restoring trust will take time and hard work.
"Trump is going to be hitting American consumers with a new round of tax hikes just over two months before the election," said one economist.
"It's war."
That's how one Canadian journalist described overnight developments between the governments of the US and Canada after trade talks were suspended Friday night without a deal to avoid the 50% tariffs President Donald Trump threatened on a wide swath of Canadian goods.
Both nations accused the other of scuttling the deal, with Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney citing "last-minute changes" by the Trump administration and US Trade Representative Jamieson Greer pointing to "new demands and walkbacks" by the Canadians.
Asked earlier on Friday if a deal was within reach, Trump responded, "I think so, yeah, we'll see." But by late Friday night, it was clear the talks had collapsed entirely as Carney summoned Canada's representatives back to Ottawa.
In his statement on Friday night, Carney said, "We have recognized from the beginning that America has changed, and that we will not return to our old relationship. Our government understood, before many, that America is altering all its trade relationships. Putting tariffs on its closest allies and charging for access to its vast market."
CBC News reports:
The fresh American tariffs and the promise of Canadian counter-tariffs are a significant escalation in the dispute between Canada and the US, two countries once seen as being as close as can be on trade.
Canadian Trade Minister Dominic LeBlanc met with Greer, his American counterpart, throughout the week in Washington, DC, to try to secure a deal before the administration's Friday night deadline.
The terms of the tentative deal were not made public, but separate sources have said the agreement would have lowered sectoral tariffs that have been crushing the Canadian aluminum, steel and automobile sectors for months. In return, Carney asked Canadian premiers to consider ending provincial bans on American alcohol.
While Carney said the Canadian government operated to strike "a fair deal that would provide the best access to the US market and greater certainty to Canadian businesses and workers," ultimately the "progress has not been enough," leading to the suspension of talks.
Carney noted that the US government under Trump would impose, starting at midnight on Friday, a 50% tariff on roughly $28 billion worth of goods, and he vowed that Canada would "match those tariffs dollar for dollar to protect our workers and businesses."
With such pain being inflicted on both sides of the border, economist Dean Baker, co-founder of the Center for Economic and Policy Research (CEPR) in Washington, DC, said Americans will not avoid the sting of higher prices on a variety of consumer goods, which he argues should be recognized as a tax imposed by President Trump's chaotic trade policy.
"Trump is going to be hitting American consumers with a new round of tax hikes just over two months before the election," warned Baker.
Peter Armstrong, senior economics reporter for CBC News, said not only would the new tariffs will "very hard" in the sectors targeted and "be catastrophic for some businesses," the additional concern that people must understand is that "the collapse in talks" between the US and Canada "might be even worse" due to the breakdown in trust and the new "injection of uncertainty" between two nations that once stood as solid and reliable trading partners.
With no clear sign about when, how, or if talks would resume, Armstrong warned the risk of tit-for-tat retaliation—a spiraling trade war, in other words—remains high. Armstrong said he texted one business leader in Canada to ask "just how bad" things are and the one-word reply was: "Very."
Peter Armstrong on the collapse of Canada-US trade talks: "There will be books written about what happened tonight." pic.twitter.com/Hcw9nJK4Yl
— Scott Robertson (@sarobertson_) August 22, 2026
"The US-Canada trade war is threatening to spiral," commented Bloomberg's Josh Wingrove. "Carney is threatening to match tonight's tariffs dollar-for-dollar; if he does that, a US official is saying Trump will be given options to retaliate again."
Labor union leaders in Canada expressed support for Carney's position, but also lamented the looming negative impact the tariffs would have on Canadian industry and workers. As the Toronto Star reports:
Automotive Parts Manufacturers Association president Flavio Volpe, who sits on Ottawa’s Canada-U.S. advisory council, said that while he did not know any details of what happened, “the prime minister promised Canadians that he would walk away from a bad deal and he kept his word. Canadians will appreciate that.”
Unifor president Lana Payne, another member of the group, said negotiators made the right decision to walk away.
“We can’t trade good jobs for a bad deal, and it was clear the U.S. was continuing to push for untenable concessions,” she said.
However, the Global Automakers of Canada said in a statement it was disappointed the two sides could not come to a deal, claiming the “current trade and tariff environment has already cost the sector over $100 billion.”
Phillips P. O'Brien, a professor of strategic studies at the University of St. Andrews, looked at the situation with Canada and castigated the Trump administration's handling of multiple issues on the geopolitical stage.
"The US decision to launch a trade war against Canada while it is in the midst of a foolish war with Iran, while China is laughing at its weakness, while the deficit is exploding and bond markets are calling BS... shows that the US government is not acting in the US national interest."
According to O'Brien, "The great debate in foreign relations today is whether the US is more untrustworthy or more self-destructive in how it is interacting with its former allies." Citing his own confusion on the question, he said, "I can’t make my mind up between them."
The US has become a deeply polarized nation. One idea to overcome this is to pay people to disagree.
America is a polarized nation. Recent polls find that nearly half of us consider members of the opposing party to be “downright evil.” Perhaps this helps explain why more and more of us are choosing to live in towns and cities that match our political leanings—a phenomenon known as “the Big Sort.” Adding to this split is a media landscape where we choose news outlets that confirm our views, and the feeds we scroll offer up more of the same. The result is an American public increasingly sealed off from opposing views. Think about it: When was the last time you had a political conversation where you disagreed with someone? And more importantly, how did it go? You most likely found it stressful rather than informative.
I believe this is because we have lost a core American skill: the ability to disagree well. Not the faceless, angry kind we do online, but the kind that happens when people who disagree come together with the intention to understand one another and compromise. Our country was built on this. A summer of argument produced our Constitution. Four more years of it produced the Bill of Rights. This tradition endured in the form of New England town meetings and union halls. We’ve let this tradition lapse, and it’s costing us.
So here’s a simple idea to point us back in the right direction: We should pay people to disagree.
This isn’t as strange as it sounds. Organizations like Braver Angels have already built a framework for this, borrowing techniques from family conflict resolution and applying them to a country in conflict. I (Natasha, 21) have seen it work firsthand. In high school, one of my classes partnered with a school in Louisiana to run a Red-Blue Workshop—several weeks of facilitated dialogue between my liberal classmates and our conservative counterparts. As is usual in this program, we became fast friends, comfortable talking through the very topics that were supposed to divide us.
America’s problem is not that Americans disagree. It's that we’ve stopped seeing people who disagree with us as fellow citizens with different ideas about what's best for the country and started seeing them as enemies to be vanquished.
We learned what successful dialogue looks like. We learned that the goal isn’t to change the other person’s mind or to completely humiliate them, as is often modeled online (open YouTube, click one political video, and you’ll be recommended hundreds more with titles like “liberal DESTROYS conservative” or vice versa). Instead, the goal is to explore each other’s lived experiences and backgrounds to form a deeper understanding of what our peers believe and why. We left the program with more empathy for one another. We were no longer competitors trying to “win” and prove our side was right, but fellow citizens united by the shared goal of bettering our country.
Now imagine this at scale: a national program teaching Americans how to have effective civil dialogue and demonstrating that the villainous way the other side is depicted online is largely untrue. Who’s to say what would come of this? Maybe we would realize that over 80% of us favor stock trading bans for members of Congress. Or that over 70% of us favor term limits for Supreme Court justices. Maybe we would realize that much of the anger we are taught online is convenient for people in power. Maybe we would conclude that our power lies in looking past the differences we are sold and uniting to fight for issues that matter to us.
Paying people to participate in such a program isn’t completely unheard of either. AmeriCorps has paid Americans for civic work for decades. New York recently paid its residents to shovel snow after this winter’s blizzards. No one regarded either policy as a handout. The work was viewed as an investment in what a functioning city or country needs. Structured dialogue between political opposites belongs on that list of vital infrastructure. This would likely begin as a pilot program in a few cities, but national experiments abroad prove that such dialogue is scalable.
And it would be a bargain! We are already paying a high price for polarization. The most obvious cost is to the health of our democracy. But there’s a literal price tag too. When our government can’t compromise, it shuts down: The Congressional Budget Office (CBO) estimated that in 2025, a single government shutdown cost the economy between $7 billion and $14 billion. Polarization affects the private sector, too. Research on private companies found that more polarized states see meaningfully less business investment overall. Investing in civic infrastructure would pay dividends. And the money is there. If $37 billion of our tax dollars can fund an aimless war in the Middle East, then surely a fraction of that can be used to repair our democracy at home.
America’s problem is not that Americans disagree. It's that we’ve stopped seeing people who disagree with us as fellow citizens with different ideas about what's best for the country and started seeing them as enemies to be vanquished. Of course, paying Americans to sit down together won’t fix this problem overnight. But it’s a start. With it, we can begin the slow work of democratic reconciliation. Doing so will remind us that disagreeing with one another never hurts our country. It is forgetting how to disagree well that does.
How a leaked high-stakes exam exposed capitalism’s broken promise—and why standardized testing keeps igniting struggle.
They called them cockroaches.
It was meant to reduce them—to make millions of young people seem small enough to squish and contemptible enough that no one would mourn their extermination.
But instead of crushing them, the insult only made them multiply.
Every blow from a police lathi—a long, heavy club used by Indian police—brought more bodies into the streets. Every attempt to scatter them revealed how many there were. What authorities dismissed as an infestation became an uprising powerful enough to drive India’s education minister from office and deliver one of the sharpest popular rebukes yet to Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s rule.
When the questions themselves go up for sale, it is not only the examination that is compromised. The promise collapses with it.
At the center of the revolt was a test that promised merit and delivered betrayal.
India’s National Eligibility-cum-Entrance Test, or NEET, determines admission to undergraduate medical programs. More than 2 million young people took the examination, often after their families had sacrificed for years to pay for specialized coaching. The test presents itself as an impartial judge: Everyone receives the same questions, the same clock, and the same numerical verdict.
Then the questions were leaked and reportedly sold in advance.
Young people told to outstudy one another discovered that some contestants might simply have purchased the finish line. The test promised an even starting line, but the marketplace had filled some lanes with hurdles and cleared others for the wealthy.
Their fury grew into weeks of mass protest that forced Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan to resign on July 25, 2026.
The movement took its name from a remark by Chief Justice Surya Kant comparing unemployed young people to “cockroaches” and “parasites.” Abhijeet Dipke, a Dalit activist from one of India’s historically oppressed caste communities, seized the slur and sent it crawling back toward those in power. “What if all cockroaches came together?” he asked online.
From that question emerged the Cockroach Janta Party (CJP)—a name that mocked Modi’s ruling Bharatiya Janata Party, or BJP.
The great Indian writer and activist Arundhati Roy celebrated the CJP members as “young roaches riding in on the rain,” as protesters poured into Delhi beneath the monsoon skies. Their numbers were formidable, but so was their irreverence. When police aimed water cannons at them, young people dared the officers to turn them on—then danced in the spray. The state brought water cannons into the streets to produce fear. The protesters transformed the streets into a stage and danced in the spray.
In a Democracy Now! interview, Roy described a movement alive with “mockery and humor,” “dancing,” and “singing”—a rebellion defined by “exuberance.” Protesters joked that fleeing police lathi attacks was helping them maintain their running streaks on Strava, a fitness-tracking app. They turned footage of the chases into video-game parodies and posted mock influencer-style “get ready with me” videos and “fit checks” featuring helmets, goggles, and homemade protective gear. One demonstrator held a placard declaring, “Every joke is a tiny revolution.”
That creative humor—an intelligence no standardized test could measure—was not an escape from struggle, but rather one of the movement’s weapons. They met contempt with laughter, intimidation with choreography, and isolation with an expanding circle of solidarity.
The uprising forced Modi to announce a national task force to overhaul the examination system, while the government proposed stronger penalties for exam fraud. The Cockroach Janta Party also secured commitments to compensate families of students who died by suicide amid the crisis and withdraw criminal cases against protesters.
While no single event explains a suicide, movement leaders linked the deaths to the despair produced by a system that made one examination appear capable of determining an entire life—then revealed that the exam could be bought.
Near the main protest site in New Delhi, students erupted in celebration. Dipke reportedly fell to his knees, raised his fist, and declared, “We have done it.” He called the result “a victory for the people of India” and “a defeat for the dictator.”
But the government did not accept defeat quietly. The movement called off its demonstrations after officials agreed to its central demands, including withdrawing criminal cases against protesters.
Within days, however, the Cockroach Janta Party reported that students and protesters were again being detained and arrested in several states. Movement leaders accused the government of violating the agreement and threatened to return to the streets.
The government subsequently announced that most Delhi protesters would face no further action. But organizers warned that closing proceedings was not the same as formally withdrawing the cases—and that the movement would resume if the government again broke its promises.
The government had retreated—but only far enough to gather itself for another attack. After officials agreed to withdraw cases against protesters and promised that no punitive action would follow, authorities began detaining and arresting students across several states, with Muslim and Dalit participants reportedly among those singled out. At least 100 people were arrested, many on stringent non-bailable charges, as the movement accused the government of backtracking on its agreement. By then, however, the students had done more than expose an examination leak. They had opened a crack in the façade of the system itself.
Why would a compromised examination provoke an uprising powerful enough to force out a cabinet minister—and frighten the government into trying to seal that crack through repression? Because a high-stakes test is never merely a collection of questions. It is a promise about how society works. It tells young people that wealth, caste, language, and power do not matter—that the future belongs to whoever studies hard.
When the questions themselves go up for sale, it is not only the examination that is compromised. The promise collapses with it.
Whether in India or across the world in the United States, standardized testing is one of capitalism’s most effective laundering machines. It takes a dirty hierarchy built through unequal access to wealth and education, scrubs away its history, and returns the result stamped with a single word: merit.
Every high-stakes testing system tells young people some version of the same story: Work hard, follow the rules, outstudy everyone else, and a high score will make the future yours.
For the millions of students taking NEET in India, that promise carries enormous weight. The examination is presented as the great objective referee, capable of determining who deserves entry into medical school. It supposedly does not care about a student’s family income, caste, gender, language, region, or access to private coaching. Everyone receives the same questions, the same time limit, and a score that appears to settle who is prepared to advance.
But a society does not become equal merely because it administers the same test to people who have been given profoundly unequal lives.
These scandals expose corruption, but they also reveal a deeper fiction: that a standardized examination can transform unequal access to wealth, schooling, language, and preparation into a neutral ranking of merit.
Some NEET applicants attend well-funded schools and spend years in expensive private coaching programs. Others learn in overcrowded classrooms, study in regional languages, work after school, care for siblings, or worry about whether their families can afford another year of preparation. “Everywhere you look, you can see the desperation of young people in this country,” Shree Kumar Verma, a 19-year-old NEET student studying in Kota—the center of India’s exam-coaching industry—told The Guardian. “Being at Kota is either going to bring you success or totally break you down; it’s all or nothing here.” Some students enter the testing center trained specifically to defeat NEET. Others arrive carrying every burden that caste, poverty, geography, and educational inequality have already placed on their backs.
Standardized tests convert these unequal conditions into a clean numerical hierarchy and then present the result as a neutral measure of individual merit. This is the central function of what I call the testocracy: a social class of elites that uses standardized testing to make inequality appear earned.
The NEET leak laid bare the crudest form of class privilege: Students with enough money or the right connections could allegedly purchase the questions outright. It was corruption in a form no one could mistake.
The scandal has a close parallel in the United States. In 2019, federal prosecutors exposed Operation Varsity Blues, a sprawling college admissions scheme in which wealthy parents paid consultant William “Rick” Singer to fraudulently secure places for their children at selective universities. Some arranged for stand-ins to take the SAT or ACT or paid corrupt proctors to change answers after the exams. Others bribed college coaches to designate their children as recruited athletes, sometimes fabricating athletic résumés and staging photographs of students participating in sports they did not actually play.
The scandal provoked outrage because wealthy families had purchased test scores and admissions outcomes outright. But affluent families routinely buy educational advantages that remain perfectly legal: elite schools, private tutoring, test preparation, admissions consultants, and access to universities that favor donors and children of alumni.
The comparison with NEET is striking. In both scandals, public outrage erupts when wealth abandons even the pretense of fairness and simply buys access to education and opportunity.
These scandals expose corruption, but they also reveal a deeper fiction: that a standardized examination can transform unequal access to wealth, schooling, language, and preparation into a neutral ranking of merit.
The camouflage of inherited advantage as individual merit is not an accidental flaw. It is rooted in the white supremacist, colonial, and eugenic history of standardized testing—a system designed to translate racial and imperial hierarchies into the seemingly neutral language of scores.
British colonial rule imposed a standardized examination system on India, reorganizing education around centralized curricula, externally controlled tests, and official credentials. Historian Jana Tschurenev describes the resulting culture as centered on “memorisation, examination, and technocratic management.” British authorities expanded schooling not to achieve equality, but to prepare most colonized people for subordinate positions while opening a narrow path to government employment and elite credentials.
A decisive turn came with Thomas Babington Macaulay’s 1835 Minute on Indian Education. Macaulay admitted that he knew neither Sanskrit nor Arabic, yet declared that “a single shelf of a good European library was worth the whole native literature of India and Arabia.” His contempt expressed the racist logic of British policy, which treated European knowledge as universal and Indian intellectual traditions as inferior. Whatever opportunities English education later offered some people excluded by India’s caste hierarchies, the colonial policy itself was designed to elevate the language and culture of the rulers. Mastery of that culture became increasingly essential to credentials, employment, and social advancement.
Wood’s Despatch of 1854 further centralized the system. The universities established in Calcutta, Bombay, and Madras in 1857 were modeled after the University of London and operated largely as examining and affiliating institutions, prescribing curricula, administering tests, and conferring degrees. Teaching became organized around examinations controlled by colonial authorities.
The Indian Civil Service (ICS) examination made the colonial function of testing especially clear. Indians could formally compete to enter the elite administrative corps that governed their country, but the examination was held only in London and structured around subjects associated with elite British schooling. British officials argued that the examination should secure candidates trained in the “highest and best form of English education”—a principle they said would be sacrificed if the test were also offered in India.
The effective exclusion of most Indian candidates became an early nationalist cause. At its founding meeting in 1885, the Indian National Congress demanded that the exam also be offered in India. The dispute exposed the contradiction of colonial meritocracy: Britain proclaimed an open competition while designing it to reward those with the wealth to travel to Britain and the greatest access to the colonizer’s language, schools, and culture.
A related system of race and class sorting developed in the United States, and the use of standardized tests gave that hierarchy the appearance of objective measurement. As Rethinking Schools has written:
Standardized tests first entered the public schools in the 1920s, pushed by eugenicists whose pseudoscience promoted the "natural superiority" of wealthy, white, US-born males. High-stakes standardized tests have disguised class and race privilege as merit ever since.
Beginning during World War I, psychologists administered the Army Alpha and Beta intelligence tests to more than 1.7 million military recruits. The tests sorted soldiers and were then used to make sweeping claims about the intelligence of entire racial and national groups.
Eugenicist psychologist Carl Brigham drew on the Army test results in his 1923 book, A Study of American Intelligence, to promote the supposed superiority of “Nordic” people and the inferiority of Black people and immigrants from Southern and Eastern Europe. Warning that “the decline of American intelligence” would accelerate “owing to the presence here of the negro,” he called for public action to prevent what he described as racial deterioration. Three years later, Brigham helped develop the Scholastic Aptitude Test (SAT), turning a system shaped by military classification and eugenics into a gatekeeper for higher education.
By the 1920s, standardized tests were also sorting millions of children into academic, remedial, and vocational tracks. They disproportionately directed white and affluent students toward universities and professional careers while steering Black, immigrant, working-class, and disabled children toward lower-paid positions in a racially stratified economy. Testing was essential for reproducing hierarchy and making it appear deserved.
Black intellectuals organized an early counterattack against this racist testing regime. Reflecting on the rapid spread of psychological testing after World War I, W.E.B. Du Bois wrote:
It was not until I was long out of school and indeed after the [First] World War that there came the hurried use of the new technique of psychological tests, which were quickly adjusted so as to put black folk absolutely beyond the possibility of civilization.
Du Bois was part of a larger movement of Black scholars challenging the tests’ methods, assumptions, and political uses. In 1924, educator Horace Mann Bond systematically dismantled Brigham’s claims, exposing the supposed science behind intelligence testing as an instrument of “propaganda and encouragement for prejudice.” Bond urged Black intellectuals to understand how the tests were constructed and used so they could resist efforts to portray Black people as incapable of exercising the full rights of citizenship.
Du Bois and Bond understood that the tests converted the consequences of segregation, poverty, and unequal schooling into supposed evidence of Black inferiority. The state denied Black children equal resources, measured the predictable results, and then used their scores to restrict access to advanced education and professional work.
The colonial testing system in India and the eugenic testing system in the United States were not identical. But both converted the language, culture, and advantages of dominant groups into supposedly universal measures of merit.
The openly colonial and eugenic language eventually became less acceptable, but the sorting machinery survived. “Racial fitness” became “aptitude.” Assertions of British and white superiority became supposedly universal “standards.” Claims about racial differences in intelligence became claims about an “achievement gap.” This year marks the SAT’s 100th anniversary—a century after its creation by eugenicists, it is still used to rank and sort young people for unequal opportunities.
High-stakes tests become politically explosive because they ask young people to place their faith in a promise our economic and political system cannot keep.
Capitalism produces enough wealth to house, feed, clothe, and educate everyone, but concentrates that wealth at the top. Education is celebrated as the “great equalizer,” yet schools operate within—and help reproduce—this unequal order. Education may help some individuals move within the hierarchy, but it cannot abolish a hierarchy the economy depends on. Standardized tests manage this contradiction by ranking young people, rationing scarce opportunities and presenting the results as merit rather than economic design.
When a test carrying the weight of a young person’s future is exposed as corrupt, arbitrary, or rigged, the promise of meritocracy can collapse into rebellion. In India, a leaked medical entrance examination sent masses of young people into the streets. In the United States, resistance to high-stakes testing grew into what organizers called the Education Spring. Though these movements confronted different systems, both revealed how supposedly neutral exams ration opportunity, discipline educators, and disguise inequality.
The protesters unlearned the lesson the testocracy had taught them. They had been told to view millions of other students as competitors standing between them and their futures. In struggle, they discovered one another as comrades.
I learned something about resisting the testocracy at Garfield High School in Seattle. In January 2013, teachers voted to refuse to administer the district-mandated Measures of Academic Progress test, known as the MAP. We were not opposed to assessing students. We opposed a test disconnected from much of our curriculum, costly in time and resources, and increasingly used to rank teachers rather than improve learning.
When the district threatened us with a 10-day suspension without pay, students and parents joined the struggle. Families opted out, students urged classmates to refuse the exam, and educators at other schools joined the boycott. By the end of the school year, the boycott forced the district to end the required use of the MAP in Seattle high schools.
The boycott became one of the brightest sparks of the Education Spring, the largest revolt against standardized testing in US history. The uprising carried the critique of Occupy Wall Street into public schools. Occupy had exposed how the wealthiest 1% manipulated political and economic institutions; the Education Spring challenged the use of testing, austerity, and privatization to reorganize education around corporate interests.
Across the country, hundreds of thousands of families opted out of state exams; students organized walkouts; and educators challenged testing mandates through resolutions, rallies, and boycotts. In New York alone, more than 200,000 students refused the state’s Common Core exams in 2015. The Garfield teachers did not create this movement alone, but our refusal helped spread a dangerous question: What if we simply stop cooperating?
The Education Spring and the NEET revolt both erupted because high-stakes tests compress vast social conflicts into a single score. An exam can determine whether a student graduates, enters medical school, receives a scholarship, or is shut out of a profession. It can also rank schools, punish educators, and justify closures. Resistance has since helped push a growing number of states to abandon standardized exams as high school graduation requirements.
Standardized tests become detonators because they promise fairness while making life-altering decisions among people never given equal opportunities. When that promise collapses—through leaked questions, racial disparities, corporate profiteering, or educationally useless exams—the test reveals itself as more than an assessment. It becomes a symbol of the system deciding who advances and who is left behind.
The testocracy tells young people they must defeat one another for access to a scarce future. Resistance begins when they recognize that the real obstacle is not the person sitting beside them, but the system forcing them to compete for what should be a right.
The Cockroach Movement did more than expose a corrupted examination. It exposed a society that tells young people their futures depend on defeating one another while the wealthy purchase every imaginable advantage—and sometimes the answers themselves.
A fairer NEET would matter. But no perfectly guarded test can make an unequal society just. India remains scarred by poverty, caste oppression, concentrated wealth, and repression. The United States is likewise defined by mass poverty amid extraordinary wealth, racial inequality, and attacks on dissent.
A fairer competition for scarcity does not end scarcity. A cleaner testocracy remains a testocracy.
The cockroaches have come together. The rest of us must decide whether we will keep competing for our assigned places in an unjust world—or join them in creating one in which every child has the chance to flourish.
But struggle is the greatest teacher. Young people who entered the streets demanding a fair exam learned that the corruption ran deeper than a leaked test. They learned how wealth and power shape the institutions governing their lives—and that institutions presented as immovable can be forced to retreat.
The Cockroach Movement did not end that repression. But it showed that even a government accustomed to surviving mass dissent can be forced to concede.
Most important, the protesters unlearned the lesson the testocracy had taught them. They had been told to view millions of other students as competitors standing between them and their futures. In struggle, they discovered one another as comrades. Their power did not come from defeating the student beside them, but from uniting in solidarity.
The government called them cockroaches because it believed they were small, disposable, and easy to crush. But cockroaches are legendary survivors, said to be capable of outliving even a nuclear apocalypse. These young people came through the monsoon rain, danced beneath the water cannons, and transformed an insult into a warning: The powerful may build the machinery of destruction, but those they despise may yet survive them.
Power wants the isolated student hunched over a standardized test, stomach knotted and nerves frayed, believing every failure belongs to them alone. It fears the moment that student looks up, sees millions carrying the same burden, and realizes that the failure belongs to the system.
The cockroaches have come together. The rest of us must decide whether we will keep competing for our assigned places in an unjust world—or join them in creating one in which every child has the chance to flourish.
That is the test our movements must pass.
During this August 6-9 time, numerous events and actions are taking place across the US and worldwide calling for nuclear abolition. I hope you who read this can join in one such action where you reside.
“The development of nuclear weapons signifies not a country’s elevation to greatness, but its descent to the darkest depths of depravity. These weapons are not a necessary evil; they are the ultimate evil.”—A-bomb survivor Setsuko Thurlow, Nobel peace prize ceremony for ICAN, December 2017
This August 6-9 marks the 81st anniversary of the US atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The United States is the only country to have ever used nuclear weapons, having committed the unspeakable sin and crime in 1945, thus ushering in the nuclear age.
Rather than repenting for the evil of building and using nuclear weapons, making reparations to the victims, and promising to eradicate its nuclear program, the US government has instead made nuclear weapons the cornerstone of its military policy. This policy holds that the United States must be prepared to use any military means necessary, including nuclear weapons, to protect and ensure its “vital” national security and geopolitical interests.
The US nuclear weapons program was conceived under a shroud of secrecy that continues to this day, and without the consent of the US people. Beginning with the Manhattan Project in 1940, the US has spent over $9 trillion on its nuclear weapons program.
The nuclear challenge before us is great, but not insurmountable.
To date, the US government refuses to adopt a “no first-use” nuclear policy, declaring it reserves the right to use nuclear weapons in the case of conflict. Therefore, a US president could unilaterally order a nuclear attack at any time. According to peace advocate and author Joseph Gerson, the US has prepared or threatened to use nuclear weapons against adversaries an estimated 30 times to bolster its aims.
Moreover, the Trump administration’s Nuclear Posture Review includes planning for limited nuclear war by developing low-yield nuclear weapons to counter an adversary’s limited use of nuclear weapons in any conflict. The US government is now continuing a several decades long process to modernize its nuclear arsenal at a cost of nearly $1 trillion. Instead of funding vital human needs programs, this exorbitant expenditure (along with the $1.5 trillion 2027 military budget) constitutes a direct theft from the poor! The US, along with the eight other nuclear nations, refuse to ratify the Treaty on the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons (TPNW) which now deems nuclear weapons illegal under international law. To date, 75 nations have ratified the TPNW.
On January 27, 2026, the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists reset the Doomsday Clock to 85 seconds before midnight, the closest to global catastrophe it has ever been. This is due to the existential threats of nuclear war and the climate crisis, AI, and worsening world tensions and other perils. The Ukraine war has further aggravated the nuclear threat between Russia and NATO.
The nuclear threat is further exacerbated by recent threats against Iran by President Donald Trump, including to “blast Iran into oblivion” and “back to the Stone Ages,” and his warning: “A whole civilization will die tonight, never to be brought back again.”
As a leading nuclear superpower, the US practices a double standard by calling on other nations to disarm while, at the same time, it refuses to disarm and instead is rapidly expanding its own arsenal.
AI technology also increases the risk of nuclear war. A study by King’s College London published earlier this year revealed that AI models used in 21 simulated nuclear crises escalated the conflict by threatening nuclear war in 95% of 329 turns of play.
As we confront the nuclear peril today, it is imperative that we hear and heed the testimony of those who were directly impacted by nuclear weapons. Since 1945, the Hibakusha has urgently called on all the nuclear nations to abolish nuclear weapons stating that “humanity and nuclear weapons cannot coexist.” Additionally, people of faith and conscience have actively opposed and resisted nuclear war preparations, including those of blessed memory such as Dorothy Day, co-founder of the Catholic Worker movement, who immediately condemned the 1945 bombing; Bishop Tom Gumbleton (first bishop president of Pax Christi USA); Fr. Daniel Berrigan, SJ; Philip Berrigan—all Pax Christi USA teachers of peace—Thomas Merton, OCSO; Sr. Anne Montgomery, RSCJ; Fr. Carl Kabat, OMI; Sr. Ardeth Platte, OP—as well as peacemakers today like Pax Christi USA teachers of peace Elizabeth McAlister and James and Shelley Douglass, plus Fr. Steve Kelly, SJ, and so many more!
Throughout the Nuclear Age, different church denominations, faith leaders, and organizations and groups, including International Physicians for the Prevention of Nuclear War, International Campaign to Abolish Nuclear Weapons, Physicians for Social Responsibility, Back from the Brink, and Warheads to Windmills have also called for the total elimination of nuclear weapons. And there have been countless non-violent actions for nuclear disarmament and ending war. Since 1980, plowshares peacemakers have enacted the biblical prophecy of beating swords into plowshares by hammering and using others symbols to literally begin the process of disarmament. I have been blessed to be part of two plowshares actions.
Catholic leaders have made significant statements regarding the use of nuclear weapons and present nuclear peril.
Last year, to mark the 80th anniversary of the atomic bombings, more than 500 people and 60 organizations in the US signed an Apology Petition to the Japanese people calling on the US government to apologize to Japan for the atomic bombings and pledge to ratify the TPNW. The mayor’s office of Nagasaki, Nihon Hidankyo (the main Hibakusha organization and 2024 Nobel Peace Prize recipient), and Catholic clergy and religious in Japan acknowledged receiving this petition and expressed their great appreciation.
Most recently, the groundbreaking “Rome Declaration for an Unarmed and Disarming Peace in the Age of Artificial Intelligence, Nuclear and Autonomous Weapons, New Digital Protocols, and Emerging Models of Digital Development,” was signed by over 200 Nobel laureates, leading AI innovators, and global academics.
Nuclear weapons are immoral and illegal, and no follower of Jesus should be involved in their production, financing, or use of them! The Catholic Church and all churches have a crucial role to play in helping to bring about a disarmed world. What if the church leadership in all denominations were to call on all Christians in the military nuclear chain of command to refuse orders to kill and use nuclear weapons, and publicly support those who do so? What if the churches could take the lead in calling for the conversion of arms industries to non-military production, while advocating for full and just protection of workers’ rights during the transition process? What if the church would provide material resources for those who quit their jobs for reasons of conscience? And what if the US Conference of Catholic Bishops and all Catholics—clergy, religious, and laity—and Christians in the US demanded that the US government ratify the TPNW? These efforts would go a long way to help create the climate necessary to bring about real disarmament.
Followers of the non-violent Jesus, who commands us to love and never to kill, cannot allow nuclear weapons, death-dealing technologies, and idols of death to ever be normalized, and must reject any ideology or theology that justifies war, genocide, and even omnicide. We need to adopt non-violent practices, as many are doing today, as a primary means to respond to conflict, to resist systemic violence and injustice, and advocating non-violent civilian defense as an alternative to militarized-based national security.
The nuclear challenge before us is great, but not insurmountable, for with God, and people acting on their faith convictions, all things are possible. History bears out this truth. I join with many peacemakers worldwide who believe that nuclear abolition can happen, and who are acting to make it a reality. During this August 6-9 time, numerous events and actions are taking place across the US and worldwide calling for nuclear abolition. I hope you who read this can join in one such action where you reside.
On September 4, 1989, six peacemakers and I participated in the Thames River Plowshares action in New London, Connecticut. We were able to swim and canoe to the docked USS Pennsylvania, the 10th Trident, and hammered and poured blood on the hull. Three of us, including myself, were able to climb on top of the submarine where we prayed for the abolition of nuclear weapons. From aboard this most destructive weapon, I believed then, as I do now, that if people have the faith to believe that disarmament is possible, and act on that faith, it can occur. Now is the time to act!
This article was first published on the Pax Christi USA web site.
The US is still the only developed country that doesn't require any paid vacation time by law.
Though they may work in the land of the free, Americans are getting a lot less free time than their counterparts around the world.
The US is the only developed nation that doesn't require employers to grant workers any paid vacation time. And according to a report out Wednesday, the average American is receiving less time off than what many of their peers consider the bare minimum.
Twenty-five countries in the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) require employers to grant at least 20 days of paid time off to their workers.
Workers in the UK are guaranteed at least 28 days of lounging each year by law, while those in Sweden, France, Denmark, and Austria get a minimum of 25 days off.
Americans, meanwhile, are receiving just 10 vacation days per year on average, according to the analysis, titled "No Vacation Nation," by John Schmitt, a fellow at the Center for Economic and Policy Research.
That is the bare minimum for countries ranking at the bottom of the OECD list, Japan and Canada, which each require full-time workers to get at least 10 days off.
And the Americans getting time off at all are the lucky ones. Around 43% of workers in the bottom quarter of earners don't get any paid vacation time, while just 38% of part-time workers do.
“Every other comparable country in the world guarantees workers a decent minimum amount of paid vacation. In the United States, we don’t require employers to give any,” Schmitt said. “As a result, almost a quarter of our workforce has nothing at all, and the average for those workers who do have paid vacation is near the bottom of the minimum required by law in the rest of the world’s rich countries.”
Vacation days are just one of many areas where American workers are guaranteed less than their counterparts in other wealthy nations. The US is also the only OECD country with no national requirement for paid maternity leave or sick leave.
Members of the Congressional Progressive Caucus have pushed for paid time off to be included in its "New Affordability Agenda," a package of bills focused on labor and the cost of living that they hope will pass if Democrats retake Congress this November.
They've included a bill introduced last year by Rep. Seth Magaziner (D-RI) which requires two weeks of paid vacation for full-time workers.
If an American participates in organized violence against civilians abroad, that person should be investigated. If evidence supports it, they should be prosecuted under applicable US law.
In a rare quiet moment inside the resuscitation room at Nasser Hospital in Gaza, I stood beside a young Palestinian man helping us treat waves of wounded children. He worked with calm precision. Focused. Unflinching.
Then he told me about his brother. Beaten nearly to death by Israeli settlers in the West Bank. Not once. Repeatedly. Ribs broken. Face shattered. The attacks ended only when his family fled the land they had farmed for generations.
“They wanted us gone,” he said. Some of the men who carry out this violence hold United States passports.
They live under American law. They vote in American elections. Then they travel abroad and take part in acts that, in any other context, would be recognized without hesitation: assault, arson, organized racial violence. Homes burned. Crops destroyed. Families driven off land.
An American who beats a man because of his ethnicity, drives him from his home, and destroys the means by which his family survives is not transformed into something else by crossing a border.
And then they return. They pass through US customs. They resume their lives. No charges. No investigation. No meaningful consequence.
This is not an abstraction. Human rights organizations, Israeli and international alike, have documented repeated incidents of settler violence in the West Bank: physical attacks on civilians, destruction of agricultural land, the burning of homes and olive groves, often carried out with little immediate accountability.
Some of those involved are Americans. Under US law, citizenship is extraordinarily difficult to revoke. The Supreme Court has made that clear. But citizenship is not the only instrument of accountability, and treating it as such allows something far worse to persist: impunity.
If an American participates in organized violence against civilians abroad, that person should be investigated. If evidence supports it, they should be prosecuted under applicable US law. If their actions meet the threshold of coordinated or systematic violence, then sanctions, asset restrictions, and limits on international travel should follow.
A passport should not function as a safe harbor.
In 2024, the United States took limited steps to sanction individuals and entities linked to settler violence. It was an acknowledgment, however modest, that this problem exists. In early 2025, that framework was dismantled.
The message was clear. Even minimal accountability was negotiable.
Meanwhile, the violence continues. This is where the question becomes unavoidable.
What does it mean for Israel, a country that defines itself as a democracy under law, to tolerate or fail to prevent organized violence by settlers against civilians in the West Bank?
And what does it mean for the United States to allow its own citizens to participate in that violence and return home untouched?
These are not separate questions. They are reflections of the same failure.
An American who beats a man because of his ethnicity, drives him from his home, and destroys the means by which his family survives is not transformed into something else by crossing a border. Geography does not dilute the crime. It only obscures it.
If that same act occurred in the United States, there would be no ambiguity in how it is described or prosecuted.
When it occurs in the West Bank as part of a broader pattern of displacement, it demands the same clarity.
The tools for accountability already exist. Federal statutes governing violent crime, conspiracy, and, in certain cases, war crimes. Sanctions authorities. Civil liability. Immigration and travel restrictions.
What is missing is not law. It is willingness.
Impunity is not an accident here. It is a decision, made repeatedly, on both sides of the ocean.
The man I met in Gaza was not asking for revenge. He was asking for the violence to stop. He was asking for a form of justice that does not end at a checkpoint or a border crossing.
A United States passport should carry weight. It should represent a commitment to law, not an escape from it.
Right now, in too many cases, it does the opposite. And everyone involved knows it.
Over 70,000 Koreans were exposed to the two atomic bombs incinerating Hiroshima and Nagasaki, people forcibly removed from their homeland by the Japanese and sent to work in these cities.
On the right corner of my desk, next to my laptop and always in eyeshot, sits a metal model of an atom bomb I assembled from a kit, a model of “Little Boy,” the bomb the US dropped on Hiroshima. The model is made from aluminum alloy parts and is a one-twelfth scale of the original atom bomb, about nine inches long. The ad for the bomb contained a video with dramatic music showing the model spinning through the air as it falls toward its imagined target.
“Perfect for collectors,” the ad boasted. “A must-have for history enthusiasts. Very enjoyable assembly process.”
Toward the bottom of the ad, perhaps as an afterthought, perhaps recognizing the implications of marketing such a murderous model, was the following: “By assembling this model, you can understand the history and moral issues of nuclear weapons and trigger thoughts about the future of the world.”
The kit came with a tiny screwdriver, two dozen tiny screws, a sanding rod, glue, and decals. The aluminum alloy parts were in molded plates. The model even had a metal cart to assemble that the bomb sits on so it can be pulled around your desk, pretending you’re getting ready to load it onto the Enola Gay and extinguish a city in a flash.
The bomb wages war against the future.
On the morning of August 6, 1945, the real “Little Boy” exploded with a flash 2,000 feet above the city of Hiroshima, which sits on the Ota River delta on Hiroshima Bay. The Ota River has six channels splitting Hiroshima into islets. Bomb victims staggered toward these channels to throw themselves into the water hoping to extinguish their burning bodies. The channels became so clogged with bodies that others couldn’t squeeze in. Some people, closer to the hypocenter, were vaporized, reduced to shadows seared into stone. Temperatures on the ground reached 4,000°C.
As we once again approach that fateful day of August 6, it is important to recognize that not just the US and Japan are intertwined in a nuclear nightmare that has lasted over 80 years, but also 70,000 Koreans who were exposed to the two atomic bombs incinerating Hiroshima and Nagasaki, people forcibly removed from their homeland by the Japanese and sent to work in these cities. Japan colonized Korea in 1910 and for decades used Koreans as they saw fit, from Comfort Women to slave labor. The Koreans then became atomic bomb victims, despite their country not being at war with the United States. They are among the unintended victims, the forgotten victims.
This November in Seoul, South Korea, the surviving Korean bomb victims will testify at a People’s Tribunal holding the US accountable for war crimes. Lawyers from around the world have been preparing legal briefs and will argue the case. The US government is invited to appear as the defendant at the tribunal. The Republic of South Korea has also been asked to appear as a witness.
Once let loose, an atomic bomb keeps on killing, generation after generation, the cancers passed down to those not even born when the bombs first exploded. The Korean atomic bomb victims, as well as the Japanese, have horrific stories testifying to this. Children of the bomb. Atomic maladies. The bomb wages war against the future.
The second atomic bomb that was dropped on August 9, incinerating another Japanese city, had a different nickname. That bomb had an even bigger belly and used plutonium rather than uranium. They called it “Fat Man.” The same ad for the model of the “Little Boy” atom bomb had a second ad inducing you to buy “Fat Man.” It is another one-twelfth scale model of the original, this one weighing 6.2 pounds when completed. I declined the offer to buy and build it. One was repellent enough.
The US currently has 5,277 nuclear warheads. Russia has 5,449. China, approximately 600. France and the UK have about 250 each and Israel has about 90. India, Pakistan, and North Korea bring up the rear with a few nukes each. In total there are over 12,300 nuclear warheads spanning the globe. The Korean atomic bomb victims stand as ready reminders of what happens when these things are unleashed.