For generations, Americans were sold a saccharine myth: that our nation’s vast global presence—its military bases on every continent, its endless wars, its economic interventions—was all done in the name of “freedom” and “human rights.” This was the sales pitch. Washington, we were told, was the benevolent policeman of a dangerous world, upholding a Pax Americana designed to uplift humanity.
But for those willing to look beyond the rhetoric, the truth was never hidden—only ignored. This narrative was never more than a sophisticated marketing campaign, engineered to pacify a domestic public and legitimize imperial conquest abroad. From the very beginning, the post-WWII global order was not about freedom, but about power—and who would control it after the collapse of the old European empires.
With the fall of the British Empire, America did not merely “step up” to defend the West—it seized control of the imperial machinery and rebranded it. The British financial aristocracy gave way to a new though related American elite, its nucleus formed around Wall Street banks, the military-industrial complex, Big Oil cartels, and, increasingly, a rising Zionist lobby with ambitions stretching far beyond Tel Aviv.
Under the guise of “containing communism” or “defending democracy,” this new managerial class waged a quiet war against genuine national independence movements across the globe. Countries seeking to control their own resources, chart their own destinies, or resist Western financial domination were systematically targeted for destabilization or outright annihilation.
Guatemala in 1954. Iran in 1953. Indonesia in 1965. The Congo. Chile. Nicaragua. Greece. Even Australia, whose 1975 constitutional crisis remains a textbook case of covert Anglo-American regime change. The public, of course, was kept in the dark. History books were rewritten. Journalists who strayed from the script were destroyed or silenced. CIA fingerprints are now visible in dozens of these cases—operations sanctioned not to spread freedom, but to preserve a system of elite extraction and control.
This system—often referred to in polite company as the “liberal international order”—is, in fact, a technocratic oligarchy. It is sustained by tightly interlocked institutions: the Federal Reserve, the IMF, the World Bank, NATO, and a sprawling Intelligence Community whose true loyalties lie not with the American public, but with transnational networks of finance, energy, and geopolitical strategy. To the extent that ideology plays a role, it is the convergence of evangelical apocalypticism and messianic Zionism—two religious currents that have dangerously informed U.S. foreign policy since the Reagan era.
Yet today, this system is beginning to eat itself. The ideology of endless war, and top-down control has run up against hard limits: financial, and political. The de-dollarization trend in the Global South, the rise of multipolar alliances like BRICS, and the exposure of elite criminality—from Epstein to the endless intelligence scandals—are all symptoms of imperial overstretch and rot.
We are watching the slow collapse of an empire built not on democratic values but on lies, coercion, and institutionalized greed.
So the real question is: what comes next? Because unless ordinary people begin to engage with the truth of how the system actually operates—not how it is marketed—then the same predatory patterns will simply re-emerge under a new banner. The last five thousand years of human history are replete with examples of how elite-driven empires rise and fall, always leaving devastation in their wake.
If we are to break that cycle, we must first understand that our “freedoms” are carefully curated illusions, permitted only to the extent that they serve the interests of our rulers. Education, media, culture—these have all been weaponized to keep populations and disinformed and therefore docile. But this also means the antidote is within reach: independent inquiry, mass awakening, and the rejection of top-down narratives.
The task ahead is immense, but not impossible. It begins with refusing to be lied to. And that—at the very least—is something still within our power.
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[…] week, Len D. Pozeram wrote about how the real (but mostly unacknowledged) American empire is facing unprecedented […]
Most U.S. “bases” abroad are not imperial outposts but logistical hubs — pre-positioned supply depots designed to reduce response time in the event of foreign conflict. Some of these could be closed for reasons of efficiency, shifting priorities, or improved strategy. But the article appears to categorically oppose all such installations. If one begins with the a-priori assumption that all intervention constitutes initiation of force, then the conclusion that all such hubs should be dismantled follows naturally — and each person or nation becomes a self-defense island. But that’s not a strategic argument; it’s a moral axiom disguised as policy.
Could the author point to a historical example where categorical non-interventionism has worked? While I acknowledge that some interventions have failed or backfired, “intervention” itself is morally neutral and circumstance-dependent. It simply means a third party sides with one party against another in a conflict.
War does not require mutual consent. Aggression can be unilateral. Victims do not need to “provoke” their attackers. If they surrender, the aggressor consolidates power and moves on. The article’s underlying premise — that wars involving Anglo-American or Zionist actors would not occur without their involvement — assumes that if relatively liberal democracies abstain, conflict will not occur. That if aggression originates from outside political borders, those inside those borders are simply out of luck.
This is a neo-pacifist fantasy: that by disarming or disengaging, we inspire others to do the same. That the lion, moved by our moral restraint, will become vegetarian — and the lamb may not hire guard dogs. That we should have waited until Nazis, communists, or jihadists crossed our borders, because presumably they never would have if we hadn’t provoked them. And if they did, we should have waited until the damage was done on our own soil before responding — and even then, only within our borders, never striking their centers of power abroad. Under this logic, helping defend South Korea from the North, or Israel from neo-Ottoman revanchism, or Europe from Nazism, or property rights from nationalization — all become suspect, because the real problem is not aggression but Anglo-American or Jewish resistance to it.
This is not a categorical defense of all interventions by relatively liberal democracies. Each must be judged on two axes: moral justification and strategic prudence. But the article substitutes categorical condemnation for case-by-case observation/analysis. It assumes that if no one organizes defensive or retaliatory force, no one will organize offensive or initiatory force.
The notion that state governments “own” natural resources is a statist fiction. Nature owns the estate of nature — that is why it is called the estate of nature. Humans are part of nature, and each person owns his own body. Natural persons acquire property rights through investment and improvement. When a state government nationalizes those improvements, it violates property ownership.
Because of the shotgun approach employed by the article — and its hidden substitution of non-interventionism for the non-initiation of force — let us recall the guiding principle of libertarianism. David Nolan composed this pledge, which is still required for anyone joining the national Libertarian Party:
“I hereby certify that I do not believe in or advocate the initiation of force as a means of achieving political or social goals.”