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Showing posts sorted by date for query CHRISTIAN NATIONALISM. Sort by relevance Show all posts

Wednesday, April 01, 2026

Bush advisor says Trump admin's weaponization of Christianity is a 'scam'


Matthew Rozsa

April 01, 2026 

President Donald Trump and his advisers forget that America was not founded as a Christian nation, a former aide to a different Republican president warned on Tuesday.

“The separation of church and state is foundational to American civilization,” Steve Schmidt, who advised President George W. Bush, said on his Substack. “In fact, on the list of the greatest American inventions, the two at the top — competing for gold and silver — are the peaceful transition of power and the separation of church and state. These are brilliant ideas, the greatest in all of history.”

Yet according to Schmidt, Trump is violating this separation in dangerous and deliberate ways. Specifically, he called out Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth and Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt for explicitly citing “our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ” when justifying America’s recent invasion of Iran.

“Do you see all the Stars of David in the Normandy cemetery?” Schmidt said. “World War II was not a Christian mission. The United States Army is not a Christian organization. In America, we have a right to freedom of conscience, freedom of religion, and freedom of speech — and all of it is under threat from Donald Trump and his administration.”

Ultimately, Schmidt refused to classify America’s war in Iran as being motivated by any form of respectable Christianity.

“This is not religion,” Schmidt said. “This is a scam. This is a con.”

Schmidt is not alone in critiquing the Trumpist version of Christianity. Religious studies scholar Sarah Posner recently spoke with The Daily Beast's Greg Sargent about Pope Leo XIV, the American-born Pope who denounced warmongering interpretations of Christianity in a speech delivered shortly after Hegseth's breakfast prayer.

"Hegseth is expressing an extreme version of Christian supremacy, where America, a Christian nation, is entitled, and in fact probably, in his mind, required by God, to smite America's enemies — or to smite the enemies of Christianity, even, Posner said. "When we talk about Christian nationalism, this is exactly what we're talking about. But the important thing to remember with Hegseth, in contrast to other versions of Christian nationalism that we see more commonly in the Republican Party, is that his is a very extreme version of Christian supremacy where we Christians are entitled to go out and take dominion over the world, to vanquish enemies, and to do so violently — and even when they do so violently, with the express mandate from God."

Speaking with this journalist for Salon in 2024 about historian Federico Finchelstein comparing Trump’s far right “rhetorical violence” to that of Nazi German dictator Adolf Hitler, Leavitt replied that “it's been less 72 hours since the second assassination attempt on President Trump's life and the media is already back to comparing President Trump to Hitler. It's disgusting. This is why Americans have zero trust in the liberal mainstream media."

As Schmidt pointed out, America was founded as an explicitly secular country. The First Amendment to the Constitution states that “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof,” while President Thomas Jefferson — who also co-authored the Declaration of Independence — wrote in 1802 that “religion is a matter which lies solely between Man & his God” and as such “the legitimate powers of government reach actions only, & not opinions” because the American people “declared that their legislature should ‘make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof,’ thus building a wall of separation between Church & State.”




































Friday, March 27, 2026

The Empire versus Iran: Which Side Are You On?


 March 27, 2026

Photograph by Nathaniel St. Clair

Fifty-eight years ago in Chicago, I marched down State Street with other antiwar protestors heading toward the site of the Democratic National Convention and made three discoveries. The first was that having a very large, truck-mounted M2 Browning 50 caliber machine gun pointed at you by U.S. Army troops is scary. The second was that CS tear gas makes it very hard to breathe. The third was that U.S. civilians like us were subjects of the same Empire that was then subjugating the people of Vietnam. Some of the soldiers understood this as well.  When ordered to deploy to Chicago to suppress the demonstrations, 43 of them – all Black servicemen — refused to leave Fort Hood, Texas, were tried for mutiny, and were sentenced to hard labor in the prison stockade.

I learned in the sixties that despite personalized slogans and chants (“Hey, hey, LBJ, How many kids did you kill today?”) the war in Indochina was not Lyndon Johnson’s or Richard Nixon’s war.  It was an ultra-violent struggle to preserve and extend the U.S. Empire, with the Americans acting as successors to the French, the former imperial rulers of Vietnam. In the same way, the current “war of choice” against Iran waged by the U.S. and Israel is not just Trump’s or Netanyahu’s adventure but another imperialist campaign led by the Americans, this time acting as successors to the Middle East’s British and French colonizers.

 Not just Trump’s war but the Empire’s. Why is this description important?  Because other characterizations lead well-meaning opponents of the war to misunderstand it and to advocate ineffective cures for the systemic disease that produces it.  For example, if the war in Iran is primarily a product of Trump’s megalomania or Netanyahu’s desire to stay in office, the cure is to replace these rulers with calmer, more diplomatic, more enlightened and liberal leaders.  Right?

Wrong.  The quality of leadership can make a difference, but if the system that the leader serves is an empire, he or she will finally act like an emperor.  It was Lyndon Johnson, elected in 1964 as a liberal “peace candidate,” who began a war of choice against Vietnamese rebels that killed several million Vietnamese and more than 50,000 U.S. combatants.  A generation later George W. Bush, the “compassionate conservative” who insisted that “America has never been an empire,” invaded Afghanistan and occupied Iraq, killing and maiming close to a million civilians in those state-building interventions. Bush’s successor, Barak Obama, an icon of liberalism and diplomacy, conducted more than 500 drone attacks against suspected terrorists in Asia and Africa without Congressional authorization and presided over the destruction and dismemberment of Libya by U.S. and NATO forces.  And Joe Biden, his former vice-president, supplied Israel with weapons and intelligence used for genocide in Gaza, vetoed anti-Israel resolutions in the Security Council, struck the Houthis in Yemen with U.S. missiles, and authorized military operations labeled “counterterrorist” in 77 other nations.

With liberal diplomats like these as his predecessors, it’s no wonder that Donald Trump decided to run for president as a peace candidate!  Perhaps, even as Trump sinks more deeply into the Iranian quagmire, he still believes that he can end the “forever wars” fomented by the “deep state.”  But his own imperial style bears witness to the fact that the state that he claims to command is no longer a republic.  It is quite clearly an empire – a violence-generating entity with a complex political, economic, and military structure that includes some 800 U.S. bases in 90 countries, an armaments budget larger than those of the next ten heaviest military spenders, and a list of deceased war victims running into the millions.

The structure and violence of empire

Even as volatile and idiosyncratic a ruler as Trump discovers that his leadership role is largely defined by the system that encompasses it.  The fact that this president is a flag-waving ethno-nationalist with fascistic inclinations makes his transformation from would-be peacemaker to imperialist warmaker highly likely.  But the transformation and the wars that attend it are not just manifestations of Trump’s personality and ideology; they are also products of the Empire’s deep structure.

The outlines of that structure are well known.  Imperial institutions are designed to project the power of a ruling elite beyond a nation’s borders to subject less powerful territories and peoples to its economic, political, and cultural control.  Since ancient times, hierarchy is the name of this game, with a center dominating subordinate peripheries and a warrior class empowered to enforce that domination. Today, the imperial elite is composed of two major components: oligarchs and politicians, with the military an important but subordinate element of that leadership. The oligarchs are driven by the “iron laws” of the late-capitalist system to invest in and exploit peripheral nations. The politicians provide the empire with taxpayer funds, civilian and military manpower, and (to the extent possible) popular ideological consent. Together, these leaders create and fund a military-industrial complex that enables the imperial state to overwhelm its opponents with violent force.

No doubt, some leaders are more violent or crazier than others. Nevertheless, no matter who leads, the imperial structure generates three characteristic types of violence: rebellion/repression, civil and regional wars, and world wars.  First, imperial domination naturally provokes resistance, and rebels must either be bought off or slaughtered.  Second, since imperialism tends to unite the natives in opposition to foreign rule, imperial rulers seek to turn local groups against each other using “divide and rule” strategies that produce civil and regional wars. Third, especially in modern times when the capitalist economy has become global, imperialism generates competition between empires that spawns world wars.

The current U.S.-Israeli assault on Iran illustrates all three types of violence:

Rebellion/repression.  Whatever. political or personal reasons Trump may have had for attacking Teheran in 2026, Iran has been on the Americans’ “enemy list” for decades.  This is not because of the Islamic Republic’s nuclear ambitions, theocratic ideology, or malicious hostility to the U.S. or Israel. The imperial elite considers Iran an enemy because since 1978, when the Iranian people overthrew the U.S.-installed Shah, Iran has been the principal source of resistance to American schemes to dominate the region using Israel, Saudi Arabia, and the Gulf States as proxies. Wars such as the current campaign against Iran are commonly portrayed as defensive responses to “terrorist” violence, but they are aggressive wars of choice: the choice repeatedly made by the elite to protect and expand the Empire.

Divide and rule: This classical imperial strategy was used by the British in Palestine and Iraq and by the French in Lebanon and Syria to keep the locals divided. Successive U.S. administrations have employed similar tactics to favor Israel over Palestine and the Muslim states and to back conservative Sunni Muslim regimes against less “cooperative” Shiites. In Iran the Americans and Israelis have also encouraged and armed non-Persian groups such as the Kurds, Azeris, and Baluchs to rebel against the Islamic Republic.  Meanwhile, the Iranian drones now wreaking havoc in the Gulf States are a response to the establishment of at least 15 major U.S. military bases in Bahrain, Kuwait, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, the UAE, and Oman.  Once again, “divide and rule” leads by a direct route to regional war.

World war:  Like recent U.S. military operations in the Caribbean and Venezuela, the Trump regime conceived of the Iran War as a short-term “excursion” that would demonstrate America’s and Israel’s overwhelming military power at little cost to the attackers.  Clearly, this was a gross miscalculation – but even if the U.S. had been better prepared, regional conflicts of this sort almost always threaten to go global. They challenge and alienate competitive Great Powers, weaken peacemaking institutions, and stimulate the formation of hostile multinational blocs. This is what happened in the Balkan wars that preceded World War I and in the regional wars of the 1930s that led to World War II.  Again and again, imperial rulers like Trump come to believe that they are avatars of order and masters of the global environment. Again and again, at a ghastly human cost, these beliefs are exposed as delusions.

The war in Iran, Israel, and the fallacy of “wag the dog”  

What has been said thus far makes it clear, I trust, that the U.S.-Israeli war against Iran (which has now spread into Lebanon) is a classic imperialist war of aggression.  Yet some critics and opponents of the war, including analysts whose work I admire, insist that “It’s Israel, Stupid!”  These commentators, whose views range from moderately left to far right, allege that for one reason or another having little to do with empire — Donald Trump’s impulsive egotism, Benjamin Netanyahu’s con man persuasiveness, the financial clout of the pro-Israel Lobby, the Christian Zionist hope for the Second Coming — the US has been tricked or  pressured  into fighting “Israel’s war” against Iran.  Even Jacobin, which advertises itself a socialist journal, reviews the alleged evidence for this theory and comes to the “inescapable conclusion that America is fighting this dreadful and rapidly escalating war not with Israel but on its behalf.”

This is not only inaccurate; it is slow-witted. It is what people say who have no real understanding of what imperialism is and how it works.  Empires have subjects, some of whom (since it divides and rules) are also clients.  Client groups of long standing are often favored by the imperial elite and have some influence over them; a list of such favorites would include the Tlaxcalans in Spanish-dominated Mexico, Tutsis in Belgian-dominated Rwanda, Maronite Christians in French-dominated Lebanon, Brahmins in British-dominated India . . . and many more.  Israel has been a favored client group of the U.S. since 1948, when Harry Truman became the first leader of a Great Power to recognize the new state.  Especially favored clients may succeed now and then in embroiling the elite in their local disputes. But the notion that they are tails wagging the dog – that the empire’s rulers will fight major wars on their behalf at the expense of their own imperial interests – is absurd. Worse than that, such an overestimation of the power of imperial subjects implies an equally serious underestimation of the power of the elite.

What sort of evidence is there for the “dog-wagging” theory? Its primary source is an allegation by Secretary of State Marco Rubio that Netanyahu threatened to start the war against Iran himself, exposing U.S. assets in the region to retaliation, so that Donald Trump had no alternative but to join in. But even if Netanyahu made such a threat, of course Trump had alternatives!  He could have threatened to leave Israel hanging in the wind or to cut off its military aid, and the American public, most of whom opposed the war, would have applauded.  If Netanyahu uttered such words at all, he was undoubtedly making a debater’s point, understanding that Trump was high on his Venezuelan escapade and previous bombing of Iran’s nuclear facilities, and that he loathed and despised Iran’s “terrorist regime,’ believed that he could win a short air war, and had his own plans for reorganizing the Middle East as an American satrapy. That the U.S. president would have given in to an Israeli threat out of fear of Iranian retaliation is simply not credible.

The dog-wagging theorists, as mentioned earlier, range from ultra-conservative America Firsters, several of whom have a nasty fixation on alleged Jewish conspiratorial plots, to self-declared leftists with a disconcerting habit of asserting that groups that they oppose are in the pay of some foreign power and are not sufficiently concerned about “America’s national interests.”  One wonders if these “progressives” have ever heard of revolutionary internationalism or read an essay by Lenin called entitled “Imperialism: The Last Stage of Capitalism.”  If they had, they would be forced to consider the possibility that, whatever America’s true “national interests” may be, the country is currently ruled by a capitalist oligarchy whose very existence depends upon maintaining and expanding a global empire, and who are making untold billions manufacturing the high-tech weapons being used to destroy the infrastructure of the only major nation in the Middle East openly opposed to their imperial “Abrahamic Alliance” and “Board of Peace” schemes.  If U.S. rulers can fight a war against that enemy that relies on Israeli intelligence sources, exposes Israelis, but not Americans, to hypersonic missile attacks, and places Israeli boots, but very few American boots, on the ground, it will be playing the classical imperialist game in classical imperialist style.

No, the tail does not wag the dog.  The dog-wagging theorists would do well to consider the remark often attributed to the Austrian socialist, August Bebel: “Antisemitism is the socialism of fools.”  Just because the Zionists have mis-defined and weaponized antisemitism by equating it with anti-Israelism doesn’t mean that it has ceased to exist, and the idea that an all-powerful Jewish State and Jewish Lobby are dictating policies of war and peace to the world’s most powerful empire is right out of the Protocols of the Elders of Zion.  There are Jewish oligarchs, Jewish weapons manufacturers, and corrupt, power-addicted Jewish politicians; I wish there weren’t.  But they do not dominate or manipulate the capitalist oligarchy or the American state and empire that do its bidding.  If we want to get rid of that empire, we will have to reform that state.  And if we want to reform that state, we will have to dispossess that oligarchy – or at least subject it to popular control.

These are necessities that people who don’t like to think about the Empire feel free to ignore.  It’s a lot simpler and less troubling to blame the system’s failures on some hidden minority-group conspiracy than to recognize that this system’s masters, as American as apple pie, exercise their mastery right out in the open.  Even before the advent of Trump, the oligarchs had ceased hiding themselves away in hedge-fenced mansions and disguising their interests power. Our imperial masters openly boast of their billions, openly invest in planet-destroying, humanity-denying enterprises, openly pay the massive political bribes we call “campaign expenses,” and openly finance the armed services and weaponry needed to maintain a globe-girdling, war making empire.  It’s not a conspiracy, I guess, if you do it in the open.  Just a social class doing what it needs to do to stay on top.

Iran is not just Israel’s war, friends.  It’s not even America’s war.  It’s the Empire’s.

Which side are you on?       

If the Empire, despite its peaceful pretentions, is essentially a machine for violence, how can it be overthrown or changed?  The Slovenian philosopher, Slavoj Zizek, made himself famous (or infamous) a few years ago by advising people interested in change to “Think, don’t act.”  Amended to “Think first, then act,” this advice makes good sense when figuring out how to oppose modern imperialism. Perhaps because so many U.S. commentators still tend to deny that their nation is also an empire, we have more questions than answers about how empires operate, how they expand or decline, and – especially – how they end.

In a book called The Fall of the U.S. Empire – And Then What? (2009) the Norwegian peace theorist Johan Galtung tried to answer several of these questions. Before the Cold War ended Galtung was one of the few analysts to predict that the Soviet Empire would  collapse because of its internal contradictions. In the early 2000s he made a similar prediction for the U.S., pointing to four contradictions that tend to reinforce and exacerbate each other: an increasingly expansive, expensive military system that tends to outrun its economic base; an economic system overdependent on exploitation and losing its creative edge; an increasingly authoritarian, non-participatory, polarized political system; and a narrow-minded cultural chauvinism that undermines alliances and alienates most of the world.

The upshot, Galtung thought, was that the U.S. Empire was almost out of business and would soon collapse of its own weight.  But he also recognized that empires in crisis often produce desperate movements of right-wing reaction very unlike the liberal, “soft landing” approach adopted by Russia’s Mikhail Gorbachev.  Moreover, in predicting a relatively fast and early end to America’s global hegemony, the Norwegian theorist left unanswered some questions of great interest to opponents of the Empire. For example:

To what extent does the relative prosperity of people in wealthy regions like North America and Europe depend upon the oligarchy’s control of markets and extraction of super-profits from dominated regions?  How can we assure our fellow citizens that eliminating the Empire will enrich us, not impoverish us?

Can a failing capitalist system be reconstructed, as many progressives and some conservatives think?  If so, what structural reforms will be needed to eliminate imperialist violence?  What reforms would increase the power of working people to control the system and direct production toward peaceful, humane uses?

What sort of nonviolent actions could demonstrate and effectuate popular opposition to class-based militarism, ethno-nationalism, and the dehumanization of alleged enemies?  How can we move toward abolishing the Empire and creating  new forms of transnational collaboration?

Happily, talking about such issues is no longer taboo – at least, not as taboo as it once was. If polls are to be trusted, the U.S.-Israel war in Iran is the most unpopular military intervention in the history of American imperialist wars, with disapproval rates exceeding 60 percent of those polled.  In this atmosphere one hears Empire – the E word – uttered by libertarian Republicans as well as progressive Democrats, with even centrist Democrats inclined to question the formerly sacrosanct prerogatives of the “imperial presidency” and military establishment.

The problem, however, is a deep ambivalence about attacking the capitalist establishment and the state that it controls – an ambivalence seems fueled by a fear of jeopardizing the identity, social status, prosperity, and global leadership role associated with images of “America the Great.”  In the United States this is true not only of Trump supporters but of self-declared anti-Trumpers such as the New York Times’ senior reporter Steven Erlanger, who says this in a recent front-page article: “As a superpower with global responsibilities, the United States cares deeply about energy supplies and the safety of its Persian Gulf allies” (NYT, 3/22/26). Note the choice of words: “superpower,” not empire; “global responsibilities,” not global ambitions and interests; “Persian Gulf allies,” not Persian Gulf satellites or subjects.

With friends like this, as the saying goes, one doesn’t need enemies.  In opposing the war in Iran, our goal at this juncture has got to be to oppose the Empire as well – that is, to raise our compatriots’ empire consciousness as well as encouraging their opposition to Trump’s cruel and thoughtless policies. To move in this direction two practical suggestions are worth considering:

Target the oligarchs as well as the politicians.

We ought to stop fixating so monomaniacally on Trump’s craziness, Netanyahu’s craftiness, Hegseth’s fanaticism, and other real but painfully partial explanations for this disastrous war. The goal should be to  help educate others about its most potent cause: the capitalist elite’s need for global domination. The White House and state capitals are not the only effective sites for antiwar demonstrations. The oligarchs can be confronted at their headquarters and places of business (and pleasure) by protestors able to explain why they are war criminals as well as unprincipled profiteers. Opponents of the Empire can also organize selective boycotts of their products, beginning with those produced by vile techno-oligarchs such as Sam Altman (Open AI), Peter Thiel, and Alex Karp (Palantir), who are raking in unprecedented profits from the killing. We can and should demand that Congresspeople advertising themselves as democrats stop accepting their campaign contributions and start investigating the connections between the billionaires, the military-industrial complex, and our endless wars.

Give Iran and other opponents of the Empire critical support.

The age-old question is that of the old labor union song, “Which side are you on?”  There are conflicts in which one does not want to or need to take sides – but struggles like the war in Iran require a partisan commitment.  One does not have to approve of a regime to support it strongly against an empire waging an immoral, unnecessary, inhumane war – one of a series of aggressive attacks dictated by the imperial elite’s desire for global supremacy.  Many Americans seem unaware of the concept of critical support: the notion that one can be deeply critical of a party to conflict and yet work to protect it against the depredations of a more powerful and dangerous enemy.  But this is exactly what the U.S. government and people did in World War II when they supported the Soviet Union against Nazi Germany (a good decision, one might add, since the USSR won the war in Europe at a cost of more than 20 million of its citizens). First, defeat global oppressor; then, defeat the local oppressors.

Asking “which side are you on” has the additional benefit of helping to wean people from a false patriotism – actually, a form of state-worship –   that is a key weapon in the Empire’s ideological arsenal.  The command to “support out troops,” when obeyed, instantiates the principle that whatever the nation does is right. It has the effect of constructing the nation as a family-like community entitled to sacrificial loyalty, and, at the same time, making the Empire disappear from popular consciousness. Of course, when the Empire disappears, so does the oligarchy, and we go back to talking about war and peace as matters solely dependent on the wisdom or foolishness, “strength” or “weakness” of political leaders.            

The current war is going from bad to worse for the American and Israeli imperialists. Good!  Let’s continue to oppose it and hope for its early end.  But don’t let the Empire off the hook. The only way to end these endless wars is to replace international relationships based on elite domination and mass dehumanization with associations based on equality and affection. Abolish the Empire! This may sound to some like “pie in the sky.”  But it’s the key to our survival and advancement as a species.

Tuesday, March 24, 2026

War Becomes Spectacle in Trump’s Horrific Propaganda Promoting War in Iran

The White House has circulated videos that fuse footage of bombing raids with visuals from video games and action films
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March 21, 2026


During his presidential campaign, Donald Trump promised to be an antiwar candidate, boasting that, unlike his predecessors, he would end endless wars and keep the United States out of new military conflicts. Yet the trajectory of his presidency has unfolded in the opposite direction. From expanding military confrontations in the Caribbean to the escalating war with Iran, launched through large-scale strikes that risk igniting a wider regional catastrophe, Trump’s rule has increasingly relied on the language and machinery of war. As Zachary Basu points out in Axios, “he has attacked seven nations [and] authorized more individual air strikes in 2025 than President Biden did in four years.”

What makes this moment particularly disturbing is not only the violence itself, but also the way it is staged and celebrated. As the conflict with Iran intensified, the White House circulated promotional videos that fused real footage of bombing raids with visuals drawn from video games and action films, transforming acts of destruction into a spectacle of national triumph. In such images, war appears not as tragedy or political catastrophe but as thrilling display, inviting viewers to admire the technological performance of power while remaining detached from the human suffering it produces. These spectacles are more than crude propaganda. They reveal a deeper shift in political culture in which violence is aestheticized, cruelty normalized, and militarism staged as entertainment, training the public to experience domination not as a catastrophe but as an exhilarating display of power.

We live in an age of monsters. More than two centuries ago, Francisco Goya captured such a moment in his haunting 1799 etching, “The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters,” an image that now reads less like a relic of the Enlightenment than a prophecy of our own time. The Italian political thinker Antonio Gramsci described moments like this as periods of historical crisis, writing that “the crisis consists precisely in the fact that the old is dying and the new cannot be born; in this interregnum a great variety of morbid symptoms appear.” Our present moment bears all the marks of such an interregnum.

We inhabit a time in which the promise of democracy has been kidnapped, stripped of its moral language, and cast into the abyss of authoritarian rule. Reason, once the fragile guardian of justice and collective responsibility, now suffocates beneath what Jeffrey Edward Green describes as an ocular politics of lies, corruption, and organized cruelty. It has been subordinated to a visual culture that “sparks deep emotional responses” while deriding solidarity, democratic values, and informed judgment. Justice itself has been weaponized, transformed into an instrument of state terror wielded by an army of thugs who abduct, assault, and kill protesters, migrants, and people of color. Hope is mocked as naïveté, memory is erased, and historical consciousness is censored in a political culture where resistance itself is treated as a crime.

Authoritarianism rarely arrives all at once. It does not begin with tanks rolling through the streets or the abrupt suspension of rights. It emerges more gradually through the corrosion of language, the collapse of civic trust, and the steady normalization of cruelty. In such moments, culture becomes a decisive battleground. Images, spectacles, and staged performances reorganize how people see the world, training the public to experience domination as thrilling, cruelty as justified, and violence as spectacle. In a media-saturated culture where entertainment and politics increasingly merge, war itself becomes a staged performance, packaged and circulated as if it were simply another form of digital entertainment. Under such circumstances, memory is corroded and violence is no longer relegated to the fringes of culture; under the Trump regime, violence is openly celebrated. Language has succumbed to the spectacle and become a crucial instrument in the microphysics of power. Drained of any substance, it has become a crucial element in the acceleration of violence in the United States. As Jonathan V. Crary reminds us, we live in a historical moment in which the misuse of language and history has become complicitous with the production of new technologies, modes of consciousness, identities, and values that are “complicit in the perpetuation of violence on a mass scale.”


Trump Has Made the US War Machine a Spectacle – and It’s Spectacularly Unpopular
Trump has brought the full extent of the war machine out into the open. Let’s channel public anger into organizing. By Khury Petersen-Smith & Azadeh Shahshahani , Truthout/InTheseTimes March 3, 2026


The Trump administration’s horrific Iran propaganda videos provide a striking example of how this aesthetic logic operates in contemporary political culture.

During a recent segment on The Lead, Jake Tapper questioned why the Trump administration was circulating a promotional video celebrating U.S. strikes on Iran. The video, a single and particularly egregious example of the administration’s war propaganda, stitched together real footage of bombing raids with stylized graphics resembling video games and scenes lifted from action films. Explosions were presented through cinematic cuts, dramatic music, and digital overlays that mimicked the visual language of gaming culture, collapsing the boundary between real warfare and entertainment. The segment highlighted how this montage blended authentic combat imagery with the grammar of digital spectacle, prompting widespread concern that the White House was effectively turning war into a form of entertainment. This episode illustrates how contemporary propaganda operates less through argument than through the visual seductions of spectacle.

The controversy surrounding the video is not simply about tone or political messaging

What the montage reveals is something far more troubling about the evolving culture of authoritarian politics. The imagery does not present war as a grave event demanding reflection or democratic deliberation. Instead, it transforms geopolitical violence into a stylized performance of national power. Explosions flash across the screen with cinematic precision, targets vanish in bursts of light, and the sequence unfolds with the rhythm of a digital combat game.

Such imagery signals a broader transformation in political culture. Violence is no longer justified through argument or strategic explanation; it is aestheticized, and destruction becomes a visual performance designed to excite audiences and affirm national power. As Guy Debord, John Berger, and Susan Sontag have variously suggested, we increasingly inhabit a culture shaped by the spectacle, one that invites viewers to identify emotionally with displays of domination while remaining detached from the human suffering such violence produces. In the age of social media, this spectacle circulates with unprecedented speed, amplified by algorithms designed to privilege images that provoke outrage, fascination, and emotional intensity over reflection or critical judgment.

The theoretical foundations for understanding this transformation were articulated long ago. Walter Benjamin warned that fascist movements seek to aestheticize politics. Rather than encouraging citizens to deliberate collectively about power, they mobilize sensation, spectacle, and emotional intensity. Politics becomes theater, and war becomes the ultimate aesthetic experience, a demonstration of technological beauty and national vitality meant to overwhelm reflection and judgment.

Benjamin’s insight resonates powerfully with the Iran montage. The video does not attempt persuasion through argument or evidence. Instead, it overwhelms viewers through visual intensity. Rapid editing, dramatic explosions, and cinematic framing create a spectacle designed to short-circuit critical distance and immerse the viewer in the intoxicating thrill of power.

Richard Etlin’s work on culture under the Third Reich deepens this analysis by revealing the moral sensibility embedded in fascist aesthetics. Etlin emphasizes that fascist culture normalized cruelty through what he calls the politics of the “sneer.” The sneer is not simply an expression of contempt. It signals that certain groups are considered disposable. It communicates the assumption that those outside the national community are inferior beings whose suffering is irrelevant.

In Nazi cultural production this contempt was reinforced through the depiction of enemies as degraded cultural and biological “types.” Jews, dissidents, and other targeted groups were portrayed through caricature and stereotype as morally corrupt, physically degenerate, and fundamentally alien to the national body. By reducing individuals to abstract types, fascist imagery made it easier for the public to accept their persecution and elimination. The aesthetics of contempt prepared the psychological conditions for political violence.

The Iran montage echoes this logic of disposability. The targets of the bombing appear not as human beings but as abstract coordinates. Explosions resemble cinematic effects rather than catastrophic acts of destruction. The viewer is invited to identify with technological power while remaining detached from the human lives that vanish behind the screen. Images of war, shattered cities, and dead children are stripped of the horror they convey. War is rendered as a video game, while the suffering it produces disappears beneath the seductive veneer of entertainment. What emerges is a form of brutal cruelty forged in the toxic fusion of technology, power, social media, and everyday life.

The sneer, in this sense, has migrated into the digital age. It appears not only in gestures of open contempt but also in aesthetic frameworks that render the suffering of others invisible. When violence is packaged as entertainment, the victims of that violence effectively vanish from moral consideration.

Susan Sontag anticipated this danger in her reflections on photography and war imagery. Sontag argued that modern visual culture has the capacity to transform suffering into a spectacle. Images that depict violence may initially provoke shock or anger, but repeated exposure can produce a form of moral anesthesia. The viewer becomes fascinated by the visual power of the image itself while the suffering it represents recedes into abstraction.

The Iran video exemplifies this transformation with disturbing clarity. By merging real bombing footage with the visual language of gaming and cinematic action sequences, it dissolves the boundary between war and entertainment. Explosions appear as cinematic effects, targets as digital objects, and violence itself becomes a consumable spectacle. In such representations, destruction is no longer experienced as tragedy or political catastrophe but instead as visual performance, inviting viewers to admire the display of power while remaining detached from its human consequences. Étienne Balibar’s analysis of cruelty further clarifies the political stakes of this spectacle. Balibar argues that contemporary forms of power increasingly operate through the public staging of violence. In such contexts, violence becomes not only a tool of domination but also a form of political theater that reinforces systems of power sustained by militarism, nationalism, and the brutal inequalities of contemporary capitalism.

For Balibar, cruelty in such contexts is not simply the imposition of suffering. It is a form of extreme violence that threatens the very foundation of democratic politics. When societies become accustomed to watching violence as spectacle, the ethical and civic sensibilities necessary for democratic life begin to erode. Citizens are transformed into spectators who consume images of domination rather than participants capable of judging power.

The Iran montage illustrates this transformation vividly. The spectacle does not invite democratic debate about the moral consequences of war. Instead, it mobilizes fascination with technological power and national triumph. The viewer is positioned not as a citizen deliberating violence but as an audience applauding it.

Such spectacles also play a crucial role in shaping what might be called the fascist subject. Authoritarian regimes do not rely solely on coercion. They cultivate specific modes of perception and emotional response. Through repeated exposure to spectacles of domination, individuals learn to admire power, distrust empathy, and view violence as both natural and exhilarating. As Mabel Berezin argues in Making the Fascist Self, fascist regimes actively sought to produce citizens whose identities were forged through public rituals, mass spectacles, and emotional identification with the nation rather than through democratic deliberation. Politics was staged as a series of dramatic performances that fused belonging, authority, and spectacle, encouraging individuals to experience power collectively rather than question it critically.

Within such environments, individuals are gradually educated to experience domination as affirmation and to interpret cruelty not as a moral failure but as evidence of strength, discipline, and national vitality. Within this formative pedagogical culture, fascist narratives circulating through social and digital media become powerful instruments for shaping subjects who identify with domination rather than question it. The deeper danger of such spectacles lies not only in the violence they display but also in the moral sensibilities they cultivate.

The fascist subject emerges gradually within this cultural environment. Images of cruelty train viewers to identify with authority rather than with those who suffer. Emotional responses such as compassion or solidarity are replaced by fascination with strength and domination. The capacity to recognize the humanity of others begins to erode.

Primo Levi warned that the seeds of fascism often take root long before they appear in the form of overt political regimes. They germinate in everyday attitudes, in climates of contempt, indifference, and the willingness to treat others as less than human. Fascism begins to grow when humiliation and cruelty become ordinary features of public life, when violence is normalized and empathy stripped of its moral force. In such conditions, authoritarian politics no longer appears as a shocking rupture but as the logical outcome of a society already accustomed to contempt, exclusion, and disposability. Writing in 1974, Levi captured the enduring danger with chilling clarity:


Every age has its own fascism, and we see the warning signs wherever the concentration of power denies citizens the possibility and the means of expressing and acting on their own free will. There are many ways of reaching this point, and not just through the terror of police intimidation, but by denying and distorting information, by undermining systems of justice, by paralyzing the education system, and by spreading in a myriad subtle ways nostalgia for a world where order reigned, and where the security of a privileged few depends on the forced labor and the forced silence of the many.

The aestheticization of violence contributes directly to this moral climate. When destruction becomes entertainment, and when suffering disappears behind the spectacle, the ethical sensibilities necessary for democratic life begin to weaken.

This aesthetic logic does not remain confined to the representation of war. It migrates across the broader culture of authoritarian politics, shaping how cruelty is staged, circulated, and normalized across multiple arenas of public life. The spectacle that glorifies violence abroad also prepares the public to accept repression at home, where migrants, protesters, and dissenters are increasingly cast as enemies to be subdued rather than people with rights.

Immigration enforcement provides one of the clearest examples. Images of detention centers, deportation raids, and militarized borders are staged as demonstrations of strength. Public officials pose before razor wire and prison walls while celebrating the supposed restoration of national order. The suffering of migrants becomes the backdrop against which state power performs itself.

Political figures themselves increasingly embody this aesthetic logic. Carefully choreographed images of militarized patriotism, hyper-stylized public appearances, and theatrical displays of authority function as visual markers of loyalty to the authoritarian project. Governance becomes inseparable from spectacle.

Under the Trump regime, morality collapses in the celebration of power. When New York Times reporter Katie Rogers asked Trump whether he saw “any checks” to his “power on the world stage,” he answered: “There is one thing. My own morality. My own mind. It’s the only thing that can stop me, and that’s very good.” In an interview with CNN’s Jake Tapper, Stephen Miller, Trump’s chief of staff for policy and homeland security advisor, echoed the fascist belief in raw power and brute force as the ultimate arbiter of politics. He stated without the slightest embarrassment: “We live in a world in which you can talk all you want about international niceties and everything else, but we live in a world, in the real world, Jake, that is governed by strength, that is governed by force, that is governed by power.”

As the editors of Equator magazine note, under the Trump regime and its allied Western governments, the adoration of force has become a ruling passion. Due process is ignored, opponents are abducted or threatened, world leaders are intimidated, and military violence is carried out with little regard for international law or human life. From the bombing of migrants and refugees at sea to the massive flow of weapons that have enabled Israel’s assault on Gaza and the killing of tens of thousands of Palestinians, the abandonment of restraint has become increasingly visible. War, both abroad and at home, is a defining feature of contemporary politics that increasingly threatens to become the organizing principle of society itself. As Equator’s editors observe:


Under the current regime, the United States has little left to offer the world but a shameless display of coercion and destruction. Trump and his lieutenants appear intoxicated by their own impunity, indifferent to international law and uninterested in manufacturing consent. Instead, they practice a form of political gangsterism marked by intimidation, abductions, and the open threat or removal of rival heads of state.

This intoxication with force is not simply a matter of policy; it is also staged and circulated through images that normalize domination and train the public to accept cruelty as a legitimate expression of power. These images share a common structure. They transform violence into visual affirmation. The public is encouraged to identify with the power being displayed rather than question its consequences. Cruelty becomes normalized through repetition and the spectacle rather than through argument.

The Iran video stands as a particularly stark example of this cultural logic. It demonstrates how easily digital media can convert acts of war into consumable entertainment. In doing so it reveals the deeper transformation of political culture in an era dominated by the spectacle.

Resisting such politics requires more than opposing specific policies. It requires confronting the aesthetic regimes that normalize cruelty and desensitize the public to suffering. Authoritarian power operates not only through laws and institutions but through images, narratives, and emotional appeals that shape how people perceive the world.

The Iran video is more than a piece of militaristic propaganda; it signals the emergence of a political culture in which destruction is aestheticized, domination becomes pleasurable, and war itself is staged as a spectacle. The spectacle is reinforced by a deeper ideological current circulating within parts of the Trump coalition. Reports from military watchdog groups indicate that some commanders framed the conflict with Iran as “part of God’s divine plan,” invoking biblical imagery of Armageddon and the imminent return of Christ. Such rhetoric reveals how militarism can fuse with apocalyptic religious narratives, transforming war not merely into spectacle but into a sacred drama in which violence becomes the instrument of divine destiny.

The obscenity of this spectacle becomes even clearer when one considers the reality it conceals. Behind the cinematic explosions and video-game imagery lie acts of devastating human violence. Among the most horrific was the U.S. bombing of an elementary school in Iran in which 175 people were killed, most of them children. Such atrocities expose the grotesque gap between the spectacle of technological triumph circulating through White House propaganda videos and the human devastation those images erase.

Meanwhile, within parts of the Trump coalition, the war has been framed not merely as strategic necessity but as a sacred mission. Political figures including Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth, Sen. Lindsey Graham, House Speaker Mike Johnson, and current ambassador to Israel Mike Huckabee have invoked biblical language suggesting that the conflict with Iran carries the meaning of a holy war. Hegseth has quoted scripture in military briefings and, in his own writing, boasted about ignoring the constraints of international law, further collapsing the fragile boundary between religion and the conduct of war. At the same time Trump surrounds himself with figures associated with militant Christian nationalism, including Pastor Paula White-Cain, whose apocalyptic rhetoric and speaking in tongues have led even a conservative commentator to describe her as a doomsday cultist. In such a climate, militarism fuses with religious fanaticism to produce a political theology of violence in which bombing raids can be framed as instruments of divine destiny.

History teaches that authoritarianism rarely begins with dramatic ruptures. It often begins with subtle shifts in sensibility. Democracy depends on citizens’ capability of recognizing the humanity of others and judging power critically. When contempt becomes ordinary, when suffering is turned into a spectacle, and when cruelty becomes a source of entertainment, the moral foundations of democracy begin to erode.

These developments are what Antonio Gramsci described as the “morbid symptoms” of an interregnum, moments when democratic institutions weaken and spectacles of cruelty and militarism rush in to fill the vacuum of a collapsing political order.

A society that learns to watch war as if it were a video game risks losing the capacity to recognize the humanity that disappears behind the screen. The danger lies not only in the violence such spectacles celebrate but also in the sensibility they cultivate, one that numbs moral judgment and prepares the ground for authoritarian rule. Resisting this culture of cruelty demands more than outrage or cosmetic reform. It requires a broad democratic awakening capable of confronting the economic and political system that feeds on war and inequality.

The spectacle of domination now circulating through digital culture is inseparable from a form of gangster capitalism that feeds on militarism, racialized exclusion, and the erosion of public life. Challenging this order will require mass movements willing not simply to temper its excesses but to dismantle the structures that sustain it. The struggle ahead is therefore not only to defend democracy from authoritarianism but also to build a democratic socialist society in which human dignity, shared prosperity, and collective freedom replace the brutal logics of profit, disposability, and permanent war.


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Henry A. Giroux
Henry A. Giroux currently holds the McMaster University Chair for Scholarship in the Public Interest in the English and Cultural Studies Department and is the Paulo Freire Distinguished Scholar in Critical Pedagogy. His most recent books include: The Terror of the Unforeseen (Los Angeles Review of books, 2019), On Critical Pedagogy, 2nd edition (Bloomsbury, 2020); Race, Politics, and Pandemic Pedagogy: Education in a Time of Crisis (Bloomsbury 2021); Pedagogy of Resistance: Against Manufactured Ignorance (Bloomsbury 2022) and Insurrections: Education in the Age of Counter-Revolutionary Politics (Bloomsbury, 2023), and coauthored with Anthony DiMaggio, Fascism on Trial: Education and the Possibility of Democracy (Bloomsbury, 2025). Giroux is also a member of Truthout’s board of directors.