The most pertinent question for the general public regarding any war is “Why?” People are willing to die to protect their country, ideology, way of life, and so on, but a sufficiently compelling reason must be put forward. In a country that defines itself as a democracy—and thus theoretically enjoys a completely free media landscape—the justification for war ought to be crystal clear, or “bulletproof,” as Americans say. Yet, interestingly, Americans have relied—and continue to rely—on the creation of patently false narratives, much like authoritarian regimes. The Iraq War was not the first “invented” American war; there is a long history of such conflicts. The ultimate example, in my view, is the Vietnam War, where American intervention was predicated on a lie propagated by President Lyndon Johnson with the backing of every U.S. senator and congressman (save for two). That conflict, too, resulted in tens of thousands of American deaths and millions of deaths among the Vietnamese, Cambodians, and Laotians.

But after 9/11, the method of mass manipulation far surpassed previous efforts and gained a justification broad enough to survive any failure: the “war on terror.” The phrase itself is misleading. Terror is not an enemy but a tactic, and a war against a tactic has neither clear borders nor a verifiable moment of victory, making it ripe for indefinite expansion. The Bush administration’s formula thus became a mechanism for sustaining fear: if the threat could emerge anywhere and at any time, intervention could be justified anywhere and prolonged indefinitely.

The very selection of America’s enemies in the wake of the attacks illustrates the power of this lie: fifteen of the nineteen attackers in 2001 were Saudi citizens, and Osama bin Laden’s ties to Riyadh were far closer than those to Kabul. Yet Washington chose to strike Afghanistan, and then Iraq—two countries with no direct involvement in the attack—while Saudi Arabia, a strategic ally and oil supplier, remained untouched.

In the case of Iraq, the construction of a false narrative was elevated almost to an art form. The Bush administration presented information regarding weapons of mass destruction as certainty and suggested a collaboration between Saddam Hussein and Al-Qaeda that was not supported by available data. We cannot know for certain how many of the lawmakers who authorized the use of force were aware that the information was being distorted, and how many had themselves been convinced by the Bush administration’s alarmist presentation. Under Obama’s leadership, the justification was refined, and drone warfare was portrayed as a surgical—almost sterile—method of conflict, precise enough that the American public no longer had to dwell on the mounting casualties.

Trump inherited this freedom of action and took it a step further. The US-Israeli strikes on February 28 effectively launched a war with Iran without prior Congressional authorization. In June, Congress passed a resolution demanding an end to military involvement; in July, Trump signaled a resumption of hostilities, attempting to justify a new phase of action without legislative approval. The Trump administration tried to convince the American public of the war’s necessity by citing the nuclear threat. When that failed, it repeatedly acknowledged that material interests were actually the primary driver, attempting to appeal to the pragmatic side of the American public. Regarding Iraq, the role of natural resources was acknowledged by General John Abizaid—head of US Central Command during the Iraq War—only in 2007.

What is the purpose of this lie? What benefits have these constant wars of the last 25 years brought to America? We cannot say that any of America’s wars in this century have been successful. We can state, however, that between the 2001 and 2020 fiscal years, Lockheed Martin, Raytheon, General Dynamics, Boeing, and Northrop Grumman shared over $2.1 trillion in total Pentagon contracts, while spending $2.5 billion on lobbying during the same period. And that is without even calculating the revenues generated for other types of beneficiary companies—namely Big Oil, Big Tech, and major consulting firms.

This brings us to the promise of a $5,000 dividend made in the heat of the election campaign. The cost to the US would exceed a trillion dollars, and the customs revenues cited as a potential funding source would not cover it. Even the Republican Speaker of the House, Mike Johnson, has clarified that the payment requires Congressional approval. Yet Trump speaks of public funds as if they were a personal reward he could bestow upon Americans should his party win. We can infer here that even if, following a potential conflict, he were to commit to providing just a tenth of that amount, he would do so with the help of his executive friends at these major companies—figures who have appeared annually at White House dinners since 9/11, regardless of the administration in power.

9/11 thus became the symbol of the instrumentalization of fear—a technique known for centuries—which clouds citizens’ judgment, leading them to accept anything in exchange for promised security. Let us not forget that the PATRIOT Act was enacted on October 26, 2001; in a truly “patriotic” fashion, it subjected Americans to the threat of warrantless searches and secret mass surveillance operations. Once citizens accept that a threat justifies curtailing their rights, those in power need only redefine that threat to continue justifying overzealous measures in the name of American security.

The explanation lies not merely in the cynicism of the leadership, but also in the comfort offered by a particular version of reality. The 2001 attacks were presented to Americans as the manifestation of an abstract, backward, and irrational hatred of freedom and democracy. Far more difficult to discuss was how decades of interventionism in the Middle East had fueled hostility toward Washington. Examining this relationship does not mean justifying a crime; rather, it means rejecting the convenient notion that one’s own foreign policy is devoid of consequences. Had the architects of the American political-media narrative become so adept in the 21st century, or were people simply so willing to believe the lies that spared them such scrutiny—convincing them of an idyllic future defined by freedom, peace, and security delivered by their leaders?

I wanted to point out that Donald Trump—however different his public conduct may be—represents a continuation of the same pattern seen over the last 25 years. Trump is indeed more cynical and far less concerned with maintaining the appearance of responsible global leadership, for he understands that the US has already lost the battle for supremacy: pretense no longer serves a purpose and will not win him any votes. His predecessors demanded trust in the name of democracy, allies, and the international order they claimed to defend, thereby finding themselves accountable to the public whenever they violated a rule of the Western-created international system. Today, it is evident that without US commitment to the very norms Americans themselves imposed, international law currently holds no sway. And given the presidential administration’s open coziness with the heads of the world’s most powerful and wealthy corporations, domestic law, too, becomes insignificant. Trump’s bluntness does not represent a fundamental shift, but rather a reflection of the failure of the liberal hegemonic project—a quarter of a century after the very event intended to save it.

In closing, I must note that none of this is an exclusively American phenomenon. Bribery and deceit do not stop at US borders; they are tools of politics wherever it is practiced. George Orwell wrote that “politics itself is a mass of lies, evasions, folly, hatred and schizophrenia.” Meanwhile, on the other side of the Iron Curtain, Nikita Khrushchev said much the same thing: “Politicians are the same everywhere; they promise to build a bridge even where there is no river.” For a country that claimed the right to lead the world based on the superiority of its own values, accepting this truth could have been fatal. Today, however, we can view this abandonment of the tradition of glossing over the truth as a first step by Americans toward formally accepting a new world order.

By Daria Gusa

www.solidnews.ro