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Getting Away with Murder: Under Trump, the Buck Stops Nowhere

Accountability is supposed to be one of the defining principles of constitutional government. Yet from the Iran war and militarized immigration enforcement to police violence, public-health failures and unchecked executive power, no one at the top is ever made to answer for the damage done. This is how the American Police State gets away with murder. “If you kill Americans, if you threaten Americans anywhere on Earth, we will hunt you down without apology and without hesitation and we will kill you.”— Secretary of War Pete Hegseth Having burned through billions of dollars and depleted critical munitions stockpiles, the Pentagon is running out of money. Our money. According to the Washington Post, the Pentagon is facing an urgent budget shortfall caused largely by the Iran war, with some critical funding accounts expected to run dry within weeks. Training, maintenance and other military priorities are reportedly being squeezed as the government struggles to sustain Trump’s escalating conflict. Once again, the government is looking to the American people for a taxpayer-funded bailout—this time to the tune of 67 billion. Nor is the 67 billion emergency infusion the end of it. Trump’s fiscal year 2027 budget calls for an unprecedented 1.5 trillion in national-defense spending—a staggering increase that would pour still more money into a military apparatus that cannot account honestly for the costs of its current war, maintain its existing priorities, or keep from returning to taxpayers for another bailout. The problem is not simply how much the war machine consumes. It is how little accountability accompanies that spending. The government can launch a war, exhaust military resources, conceal its full costs, and return to Congress for billions more without anyone responsible being required to admit error, change course, or answer for the lives lost. That is becoming a familiar pattern under Donald Trump. He makes the decisions—others absorb the consequences. He launches the war—the troops make the sacrifices, and taxpayers inherit the bill. The Iran war is not merely another example of government waste, although the cost is already staggering. The war has already cost an estimated 80 to 100 billion, not counting its long-term economic impact, future veteran expenses, or the cost of repairing damaged military bases. Analysts estimate that the broader toll on American households could eventually reach as much as 1,000 per household. Yet the true cost cannot be measured in dollars alone. American service members are dying in a war Trump started without meaningful congressional authorization, without a credible plan for ending it, and without an honest accounting of what it will cost. The Pentagon is draining resources from training, maintenance and weapons programs to keep the conflict going. Congress is being asked to supply billions more. And the American people—already struggling under the weight of debt, inflation and economic uncertainty—are expected to pay without question. This is government without accountability. It is also the Trump business model applied to government: take the risks, claim the credit, transfer the losses and leave someone else to clean up the wreckage. Trump has spent a lifetime marketing himself as a brilliant businessman, yet his record is littered with bankruptcies, defaults, failed ventures and losses shifted onto others. In private business, a failed venture can be abandoned and its consequences transferred. A president’s failures are not so easily contained, yet Trump continues to govern as though America were merely another disposable business venture. And when Trump’s own decisions cost American lives, deplete military stockpiles and burn through billions of taxpayer dollars, the bill never finds its way to him. It finds its way to us. Yet the contrast between those who make these decisions and those forced to live with them could hardly be more stark. While American service members are being returned home in flag-draped coffins, Trump moves from golf courses to galas to grand spectacles. While the Pentagon scrambles to find the money and munitions, Trump lavishes attention on the trappings of power, from gilded alterations to the people’s house to extravagant ceremonial projects. While ordinary Americans struggle with inflation, instability and the cascading costs of his policies, Trump presides over the pageantry of the presidency seemingly untouched by the consequences. And while the American people are told to sacrifice, Trump’s family continues converting access to presidential power into extraordinary private wealth. Trump reported more than 1.4 billion in income from his family’s cryptocurrency ventures in 2025, while Reuters calculated that the family added at least 2.3 billion to its fortune through its principal crypto businesses after Trump returned to the presidency. The problem is not merely one of appearances. It is that Trump remains conspicuously insulated from the human and financial consequences of his own decisions. That insulation from consequence is matched by a swaggering display of bluster and bravado that passes for leadership within the Trump administration. Take Pete Hegseth, the self-styled “Secretary of War,” who speaks less like a civilian entrusted with the grave responsibility of war and peace than a character delivering an action-movie threat. “If you kill Americans, we will hunt you down,” Hegseth warned. The Trump administration has embraced that threat as a statement of national resolve: anyone who kills an American will be hunted down and made to pay. Unless, of course, the Americans are killed by their own government. Unless they are service members sent to die in a preemptive war the president started without constitutional authority and cannot seem to end. Unless they are shot by immigration agents or police officers conditioned to treat fear, resistance and the mere presence of a weapon as a license to kill. Unless they die in government custody. Unless they become casualties of public-health safeguards weakened by mass firings, budget cuts, political interference and administrative incompetence. In those cases, no one is hunted down, no one in power is made to pay, and no one is held responsible. This is the double standard that passes for justice in the American Police State. Yet this culture of official impunity did not begin with Donald Trump. For decades, presidents of both parties have expanded executive power, surrendered constitutional checks, protected government agents from meaningful accountability and conditioned the public to accept official violence as the unavoidable price of security. Trump inherited that machinery. He has also embraced its deadliest powers, accelerated its abuses and made the elimination of accountability a governing principle. The Iran war is merely the latest—and most visible—example. American service members are dying in a war that is not making America safer, no matter what Trump insists to the contrary. Seventeen American service members have reportedly been killed in the war, while more than 400 have been injured. Rather than treating those deaths as evidence of the terrible costs and strategic failures of his war, Trump has used them to justify further escalation, warning that Iran will “pay many times over” for every American life lost. This is how endless wars become unending. Every American death becomes a reason to continue the war that caused it. Every retaliation generates another retaliation. Every escalation becomes the excuse for another escalation. Every failure is rebranded as a reason to stay the course. The president starts the war. The military carries it out. American service members die in it. And the public is told that questioning the wisdom or legality of the conflict is tantamount to betraying the troops. This is not a strategy for peace. It is a self-perpetuating cycle of death, vengeance and political evasion. Trump’s response to the mounting casualties has not been restraint, transparency or a serious accounting of how the country became trapped in another Middle Eastern war. It has been more threats, more bombs, more chest-beating and more demands that the American people fall in line—and not even a glimmer of ownership for the mistakes that landed us here. Meanwhile, the dead become justification for still more death. The failures become justification for still more money. And those who made the decisions remain insulated from the consequences. Yet the Iran war is only one front in the government’s longstanding war on accountability. The same culture of impunity that shields presidents from responsibility for unconstitutional wars also protects government agents from meaningful scrutiny when raids, detentions and uses of force result in injury or death. Nowhere is that more visible than in the Trump administration’s increasingly militarized approach to immigration enforcement. Federal immigration agents carry out raids in masks, tactical gear and unmarked vehicles. They detain people at homes, workplaces, traffic stops and routine immigration appointments. Record numbers of people are being arrested and warehoused in detention centers, many of them with no criminal history. The Trump administration calls this law enforcement. But law enforcement without transparency, restraint or accountability quickly becomes something far more dangerous. In recent weeks, ICE agents have fatally shot men in Texas and Maine, prompting senators to demand body cameras, visible identification, clearer use-of-force rules and greater transparency about who is being entrusted with the power to kill. Both men were reportedly shot in their vehicles. Neither was the intended target of the enforcement action. Neither encounter was captured on an officer’s body camera. A temporary pause in ICE traffic stops reportedly lasted only one day before the White House intervened and ordered the operations resumed. That is the Trump administration’s idea of accountability: pause briefly, manage the fallout, and then allow the machinery to continue operating as before. There is no meaningful independent review. There is no public accounting of what went wrong. There is no assurance that deadly force will be treated as a last resort rather than an acceptable consequence of aggressive enforcement. Instead, the government investigates itself, controls the evidence, shapes the official narrative, and moves on. The government kills. The government investigates. The government absolves itself. This is not unique to immigration enforcement. The same pattern has defined policing in America for decades. Police officers are trained to perceive threats everywhere and to treat their subjective fear as more important than the objective constitutional rights of the people they serve. Reach for your wallet and you may be shot. Hold a cellphone and you may be shot. Fail to obey confusing or contradictory commands quickly enough and you may be shot. Possess a firearm—even lawfully—and the government may argue that the exercise of your Second Amendment rights made you sufficiently dangerous to kill. Then the legal system steps in to prevent a jury from ever weighing what happened. Qualified immunity, judicial deference and doctrines that elevate “officer safety” above almost every competing constitutional consideration have helped create a system in which government agents can use deadly force and avoid meaningful scrutiny afterward. Trump did not create this system. Police militarization, qualified immunity, aggressive federal enforcement and institutional self-protection were firmly entrenched long before he returned to office. What Trump has done is intensify those tendencies, remove restraints, reward aggression and treat demands for accountability as attacks on law enforcement itself. The result is a system in which the greater the government’s power, the smaller the consequences for its abuse. The police state does not have to pull a trigger to put lives at risk. It can also endanger the public by weakening the safeguards designed to prevent avoidable harm. Public-health agencies, food inspectors, disease-surveillance programs, medical researchers and drug-safety personnel exist because failures in these areas can have deadly consequences. When those protections are weakened, risks increase. When expertise is driven out, warnings are missed. When oversight disappears, preventable crises become more likely. The Trump administration’s mass firings, funding cuts and political interference have hollowed out critical public-health and food-safety agencies. The Food and Drug Administration reportedly lost thousands of employees in 2025 and hundreds more in 2026. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, the Food Safety and Inspection Service and other agencies responsible for protecting the public have also undergone substantial staffing reductions. Foreign food-facility inspections have fallen to historic lows following layoffs and budget cuts, even as the American food supply becomes more global, complex and difficult to monitor. Programs that track and respond to emerging disease threats have also been scaled back. These are not abstract bureaucratic changes. They determine whether contaminated food and unsafe drugs are identified before people are harmed, whether emerging diseases are contained before they spread, and whether qualified experts are available before a manageable threat becomes a national crisis. No government can eliminate every danger or prevent every death, but when an administration knowingly strips away safeguards, disregards expert warnings and replaces competence with loyalty, it cannot pretend that the resulting harm has nothing to do with its decisions. Accountability requires recognizing that policy choices have foreseeable consequences—and asking who ordered the cuts, ignored the warnings, benefited from dismantling oversight and will answer when the public is harmed. Yet when those consequences arrive, no one in power accepts responsibility. The victims and their families are left to absorb the consequences, while the officials who made the decisions retreat behind bureaucracy, immunity and plausible deniability. The same machinery of official impunity operates across administrations and agencies. What distinguishes Trump is the speed with which his administration has dismantled remaining safeguards, dismissed expertise and treated accountability as an obstacle to power. The pattern is the same whether the harm occurs on a battlefield, during an immigration raid, in a police encounter or through the failure of an institution charged with protecting the public. Those with power make the decisions. Those without power bear the consequences. This is how official impunity becomes a system of government. Presidents claim immunity. Congress surrenders its constitutional responsibilities. Military officials classify their mistakes. Federal agencies investigate themselves. Police officers invoke qualified immunity. Prosecutors protect government agents. Courts keep juries from weighing the evidence. Corporations profit from government contracts. Officials leave public service for lucrative private-sector positions with the very industries they once oversaw. Taxpayers pay every settlement, bailout, reconstruction cost and replenishment bill. The names and political parties change. The machinery of impunity remains. What distinguishes Trump is not that he created this machinery but the brazenness with which he uses it. He treats oversight as obstruction, criticism as disloyalty, constitutional restraints as inconveniences, and public office as a vehicle for private power and profit. Under Trump, the buck stops nowhere. Every consequence is transferred to someone else. No one in power pays a personal price. No one admits fault. No one resigns. No one is prosecuted. No one is held accountable. Instead, the public is told to move on. The policies continue. The machinery rolls forward. This is how temporary abuses become permanent powers. It is how republics become empires. It is how elected public servants become rulers who answer to no one. And it is how a government learns that it can inflict enormous harm without ever being required to pay a price. Trump and Hegseth insist that anyone who kills an American will be hunted down and made to pay. Yet who demands accountability when the decisions that cost American lives originate in the White House? Who answers for the service members sent to die in an unconstitutional war launched without meaningful public debate or congressional authorization? Who answers for those who die during immigration raids, police encounters or government detention? Who answers when those in power enrich themselves while everyone else is left to bear the danger, instability and cost? In the American Police State, the answer is almost always the same: Those in power are protected. Those without power bear the consequences. The government operates above the law. Those who wield power become untouchable. Those who suffer are treated as disposable. Justice becomes whatever the government says it is. And the machinery of government moves on without accountability. As I make clear in my book Battlefield America: The War on the American People and its fictional counterpart The Erik Blair Diaries, that is how the American Police State gets away with murder. WC: 2605

2 hours ago

Getting Away with Murder: Under Trump, the Buck Stops Nowhere [SHORT]

Accountability is supposed to be one of the defining principles of constitutional government. Yet from the Iran war and militarized immigration enforcement to police violence, public-health failures and unchecked executive power, no one at the top is ever made to answer for the damage done. This is how the American Police State gets away with murder. Having burned through billions of dollars and depleted critical munitions stockpiles, the Pentagon is running out of money. Our money. According to the Washington Post, the Pentagon is facing an urgent budget shortfall caused largely by the Iran war, with some critical funding accounts expected to run dry within weeks. Training, maintenance and other military priorities are reportedly being squeezed as the government struggles to sustain Trump’s escalating conflict. Once again, the government is looking to the American people for a taxpayer-funded bailout—this time to the tune of 67 billion. Nor is the 67 billion emergency infusion the end of it. Trump’s fiscal year 2027 budget calls for an unprecedented 1.5 trillion in national-defense spending—a staggering increase that would pour still more money into a military apparatus that cannot account honestly for the costs of its current war, maintain its existing priorities, or keep from returning to taxpayers for another bailout. The problem is not simply how much the war machine consumes. It is how little accountability accompanies that spending. The government can launch a war, exhaust military resources, conceal its full costs, and return to Congress for billions more without anyone responsible being required to admit error, change course, or answer for the lives lost. That is becoming a familiar pattern under Donald Trump. He makes the decisions—others absorb the consequences. He launches the war—the troops make the sacrifices, and taxpayers inherit the bill. The Iran war is not merely another example of government waste, although the cost is already staggering. The war has already cost an estimated 80 to 100 billion, not counting its long-term economic impact, future veteran expenses, or the cost of repairing damaged military bases. Analysts estimate that the broader toll on American households could eventually reach as much as 1,000 per household. Yet the true cost cannot be measured in dollars alone. American service members are dying in a war Trump started without meaningful congressional authorization, without a credible plan for ending it, and without an honest accounting of what it will cost. The Pentagon is draining resources from training, maintenance and weapons programs to keep the conflict going. Congress is being asked to supply billions more. And the American people—already struggling under the weight of debt, inflation and economic uncertainty—are expected to pay without question. This is government without accountability. When Trump’s decisions cost American lives, deplete military stockpiles and burn through billions of taxpayer dollars, the bill never finds its way to him. It finds its way to us, while Trump remains conspicuously insulated from the human and financial consequences of his own decisions. That insulation from consequence is matched by a swaggering display of bluster and bravado that passes for leadership within the Trump administration. Take Pete Hegseth, the self-styled “Secretary of War,” who speaks less like a civilian entrusted with the grave responsibility of war and peace than a character delivering an action-movie threat. “If you kill Americans, we will hunt you down,” Hegseth warned. The Trump administration has embraced that threat as a statement of national resolve: anyone who kills an American will be hunted down and made to pay. Unless, of course, the Americans are killed by their own government. Unless they are service members sent to die in a preemptive war the president started without constitutional authority and cannot seem to end. Unless they are shot by immigration agents or police officers conditioned to treat fear, resistance and the mere presence of a weapon as a license to kill. Unless they die in government custody. Unless they become casualties of public-health safeguards weakened by mass firings, budget cuts, political interference and administrative incompetence. In those cases, no one is hunted down, no one in power is made to pay, and no one is held responsible. This is the double standard that passes for justice in the American Police State. For decades, presidents of both parties have expanded executive power, surrendered constitutional checks, protected government agents from meaningful accountability and conditioned the public to accept official violence as the unavoidable price of security. Trump inherited that machinery. He has also embraced its deadliest powers, accelerated its abuses and made the elimination of accountability a governing principle. The Iran war is merely the latest—and most visible—example. American service members are dying in a war that is not making America safer, no matter what Trump insists to the contrary. Seventeen American service members have reportedly been killed in the war, while more than 400 have been injured. Rather than treating those deaths as evidence of the terrible costs and strategic failures of his war, Trump has used them to justify further escalation, warning that Iran will “pay many times over” for every American life lost. Yet the Iran war is only one front in the government’s longstanding war on accountability. The same culture of impunity that shields presidents from responsibility for unconstitutional wars also protects government agents from meaningful scrutiny when raids, detentions and uses of force result in injury or death. Trump did not create this system. Police militarization, qualified immunity, aggressive federal enforcement and institutional self-protection were firmly entrenched long before he returned to office. What Trump has done is intensify those tendencies, remove restraints, reward aggression and treat demands for accountability as attacks on law enforcement itself. The pattern is the same whether the harm occurs on a battlefield, during an immigration raid, in a police encounter or through the failure of an institution charged with protecting the public. The names and political parties change. The machinery of impunity remains. What distinguishes Trump is not that he created this machinery but the brazenness with which he uses it. He treats oversight as obstruction, criticism as disloyalty, constitutional restraints as inconveniences, and public office as a vehicle for private power and profit. Under Trump, the buck stops nowhere. No one in power pays a personal price. No one admits fault. No one resigns. No one is prosecuted. No one is held accountable. Likewise, in the American Police State, those in power are protected. Those without power bear the consequences. And the machinery of government moves on without accountability. As I make clear in my book Battlefield America: The War on the American People and its fictional counterpart The Erik Blair Diaries, that is how the American Police State gets away with murder. WC: 1062

3 hours ago

While the Political Circus Distracts Us, Flock Builds the Digital Police State

While Americans remain consumed by partisan politics, Flock’s AI-powered license plate cameras are quietly expanding a nationwide surveillance network capable of recording, analyzing and reconstructing the movements of ordinary people—and in the process, building the infrastructure of a digital police state. “You had to live—did live, from habit that became instinct—in the assumption that every sound you made was overheard, and, except in darkness, every movement scrutinized.”—George Orwell, 1984 While Americans remain transfixed by the political circus—cheering for their preferred party, jeering at the opposition, obsessing over every manufactured outrage and waiting for the next spectacle—the Surveillance State continues its steady march forward. The government is watching. It watches where you go, whom you meet, where you worship, what medical offices you visit, what political rallies you attend, what protests you join, what books you read, what websites you visit and what causes you support. It watches through your phone, your car, your doorbell, your appliances, your purchases, your social media accounts and the cameras positioned along the roads you travel every day. This is how freedom dies in the digital police state: not always through dramatic declarations of martial law or soldiers stationed on every street corner, but through the gradual construction of a technological dragnet—an electronic concentration camp—so pervasive that privacy becomes impossible and anonymity becomes suspicious. Enter Flock Safety, a private surveillance technology company whose automated license plate readers have spread throughout thousands of American communities. These cameras, which do much more than photograph license plates, represent the next evolution of the government’s public-private surveillance partnership. They document the time and location of every passing vehicle and record identifying characteristics such as its make, model, color, damage, roof racks, bumper stickers and other distinctive features. That information can then be placed in a searchable database and used to retrace a vehicle’s movements over time. Yet the real power—and the real danger—of Flock does not come from the cameras alone. It comes from artificial intelligence. A camera can photograph a car. Flock’s AI-powered platform can identify and categorize a vehicle, compare an observation with stored records, generate alerts, identify connections and help police reconstruct where that vehicle has been. AI is what transforms a photograph into the building blocks for a suspect society. With AI, every driver becomes a data point. Every data point becomes a pattern. And every pattern becomes a suspicion. This is how ordinary movements become potentially suspect and subject to government scrutiny. It allows law enforcement agencies to search not only for a complete license plate number but also for partial plates and physical descriptions such as vehicle color, make, model, damage, roof racks, bumper stickers and other identifying characteristics. A police officer might ask the system to locate every red pickup truck with a ladder rack seen near a protest, every vehicle that repeatedly visited a particular address, or every car observed traveling between two locations. The artificial intelligence does the sorting. The database supplies the history. The government receives a list of potential suspects. This is no longer surveillance conducted by individual officers following particular leads. It is surveillance conducted at machine speed, across entire populations, with algorithms deciding whose movements merit further scrutiny. Consider the scale of what is taking place. License plate cameras now log approximately 20 billion vehicle scans every month. Twenty billion. That is not targeted policing. That is mass collection. The overwhelming majority of those scans do not involve stolen cars, wanted suspects, kidnappings or violent crimes. They document ordinary people carrying out the ordinary activities of daily life: driving to work, taking children to school, visiting friends, attending church, keeping medical appointments, participating in protests or simply going home. Yet each of those innocent journeys becomes part of a searchable police database. At 20 billion scans a month, Flock is not searching for particular suspects and then attempting to follow them. It is recording the movements of everyone so police can decide later whom they want to follow. That is the digital equivalent of assigning a government agent to trail every driver in America—and preserving the agent’s notes in case the government someday finds them useful. Yet mass collection is only the first stage of the AI surveillance state. The next is merging those billions of observations with everything else the government and its corporate partners know about us. Flock is also part of a much larger shift toward AI-powered “data fusion,” in which license plate records are combined with facial recognition results, surveillance video, police reports, social media activity, commercially purchased information, gunshot-detection alerts and other government databases. The danger is no longer merely that one system can track a car. It is the merger of previously separate streams of information into a single system capable of mapping a person’s movements, relationships, habits and associations. These systems increasingly do more than provide officers with information to evaluate. They assign significance to associations, flag supposed threats and generate investigative leads—often through proprietary algorithms that neither the accused nor the public can examine. Artificial intelligence does not eliminate human prejudice, institutional bias or bad information. It industrializes them. Feed a flawed system inaccurate data, biased arrest records or constitutionally suspect surveillance, and AI can reproduce those defects at a speed and scale no individual police officer could match. Once the computer labels someone suspicious, moreover, officers may treat the algorithmic conclusion as objective fact. The machine accuses. The police act. The citizen is left to prove that the machine was wrong. Despite the extraordinary reach of this technology, Flock continues to portray its system as a limited, carefully controlled crime-fighting tool. Flock insists that its cameras collect information about vehicles rather than people, that agencies control access to their own data, that searches are logged and that information is generally deleted after 30 days. Yet these assurances largely amount to distinctions without a difference. Vehicles are extensions of the people who drive them. Track a vehicle long enough, and you know where its owner sleeps, works, worships, shops, socializes, seeks medical treatment and participates in political activity. You know when someone leaves home, when they return, whom they visit and how often. You may not know the contents of their conversations, but you know enough to construct an intimate portrait of their life. That is surveillance. It does not become less invasive merely because the government has outsourced the cameras, databases and algorithms to a private corporation. Nor does it cease to be surveillance because police claim that the information may someday be useful in solving a crime. Indeed, that is the sleight of hand that has allowed the surveillance state to expand so rapidly. The government no longer has to install every camera, maintain every database or directly collect every piece of information. It merely encourages private companies, businesses, homeowners’ associations, schools and individual consumers to create an interconnected surveillance ecosystem—and then asks for access. This public-private arrangement allows government agencies to acquire capabilities they might never receive public approval or sufficient funding to build on their own. It also makes accountability almost impossible. When abuses occur, local police blame the technology provider. The technology provider insists that local police control the data. Federal agencies claim they merely requested access. Local officials say they were unaware that information could be shared beyond their jurisdiction. Everyone points elsewhere. Meanwhile, the American people remain under observation. Flock has become especially controversial because its network can transform what appears to be a collection of local cameras into something far more powerful: a searchable surveillance system that permits law enforcement agencies to look far beyond their own jurisdictions. Flock says data sharing among agencies is optional and controlled by its customers. Yet the entire value of such a system lies in its interconnectedness. A camera in one town is a traffic-monitoring device. Thousands of cameras connected through searchable databases constitute a movement-tracking network. The danger is not simply that police might search for a stolen car. The danger is that the system permits government officials to begin with a location, a description or a fragment of information and work backward until someone emerges as a suspect. That reverses the traditional order of constitutional policing. Under the Fourth Amendment, police are supposed to develop individualized suspicion, establish probable cause and then apply for a warrant to search for evidence connected to a particular person or crime. Mass surveillance systems begin by collecting information on everyone. In the process, every innocent person is treated as a potential suspect whose movements must be recorded just in case the government someday decides they are relevant. This is guilt by algorithm. It is also the same constitutional inversion at the heart of geofence warrants, which allow police to demand information identifying every cellphone that happened to be near a particular location at a particular time. The U.S. Supreme Court’s recent decision in Chatrie v. United States may signal that constitutional scrutiny is finally beginning to catch up with the surveillance state. The case involved a geofence warrant used to obtain Google location records for cellphones near the scene of a robbery. Rather than beginning with an identified suspect, police demanded information about devices that happened to be within a designated area during a particular period and then worked backward to identify their owners. The Supreme Court held that police conduct a Fourth Amendment search when they obtain an individual’s cellphone location history from a technology company. That conclusion matters. It rejects the government’s increasingly convenient argument that intimate information loses constitutional protection merely because a private corporation collected, stored or analyzed it. The Court did not rule on Flock cameras or automated license plate databases. Nor did it decide that every geofence demand is necessarily unconstitutional. The justices left it to the Fourth Circuit to determine whether the warrant satisfied the Fourth Amendment’s probable-cause and particularity requirements at each stage of the search. Nevertheless, the constitutional principle at the heart of Chatrie extends far beyond cellphones. The government should not be able to evade the Fourth Amendment by outsourcing mass surveillance to private technology companies. It should not matter whether the location trail comes from Google, Flock, a cellphone provider, a data broker or an interconnected network of privately owned cameras. A detailed record of a person’s movements does not become less revealing because it follows a vehicle rather than a phone. The government should not be permitted to accomplish through Flock what it could not constitutionally accomplish by assigning police officers to follow millions of Americans everywhere they drive. Indeed, Flock may present an even more troubling inversion of constitutional policing. Geofence searches generally begin with a particular crime, location and period. Flock continuously collects information on millions of vehicles before any crime has occurred and before any individual is suspected of wrongdoing. Police can then reach backward into that stored history and reconstruct a person’s movements. The surveillance comes first. Suspicion comes later. A warrant, when one is sought at all, may arrive only after the government has already built the database it intends to search. Chatrie may provide constitutional ammunition for challenging this arrangement, but no single court ruling will dismantle the machinery of mass surveillance. The technology is already embedded in thousands of communities. The databases are already being populated. The agencies are already connected. And the companies profiting from this infrastructure will fight to preserve it. Unfortunately, constitutional protections have rarely kept pace with the government’s appetite for surveillance. The dangers are no longer theoretical. Flock data has reportedly been used in investigations far removed from the serious violent crimes routinely invoked to justify these systems. This is the inevitable trajectory of every surveillance technology. First, it is introduced as an emergency measure. Then it is justified as a crime-fighting tool. Then it is expanded to lesser crimes. Then it is used for administrative enforcement, political monitoring, immigration investigations and personal purposes. Eventually, it becomes part of the background machinery of government—a permanent feature of daily life that no longer attracts attention because everyone has become accustomed to being watched. That is how mission creep works. Surveillance powers created to find kidnappers and violent criminals do not remain limited to kidnappers and violent criminals. Databases built to locate stolen vehicles do not remain limited to stolen vehicles. Government agencies cannot resist the temptation to use whatever power is available to them, especially when the use of that power is cheap, easy and largely hidden from the public. The technology’s potential for error makes this even more dangerous. License plate readers can misread plates, rely on inaccurate hot lists or associate an innocent vehicle with a crime. Once the system issues an alert, officers may treat the computer-generated result as fact. The individual on the receiving end may be pulled over, surrounded by armed police, handcuffed, searched or detained before anyone discovers that the machine was wrong. This is not justice. It is automated suspicion. Flock is only one component of a surveillance ecosystem that includes doorbell cameras, facial recognition, drones, cellphone tracking, biometric databases and real-time crime centers. The result is 360-degree surveillance. A person may leave a home monitored by a smart doorbell, drive past a network of license plate readers, enter a business equipped with facial recognition, carry a phone broadcasting location data and return home along streets monitored by police cameras and private security systems. At no point does the government need to physically follow that individual, because the infrastructure does it automatically. Algorithms sort the information. Databases preserve it. Private companies monetize it. Government agencies search it. All of this is taking place while the country remains locked in an endless partisan cage match. Both parties have contributed to the Surveillance State. Both parties have expanded it. Both parties have exploited fear to convince the public that freedom must be sacrificed for safety. The targets may change depending on who is in power, but the machinery remains. Once the infrastructure exists, there is no guarantee that it will be used only against people you dislike or with whom you disagree politically. That is the lesson Americans repeatedly refuse to learn. A surveillance tool created by one administration will be inherited by the next. A database assembled for one purpose will inevitably be used for another. A system established to monitor “them” will eventually be turned against “us.” Communities across the country are finally beginning to recognize the danger. Some cities have terminated or declined to renew their Flock contracts. Others have paused deployments or demanded stronger restrictions on data sharing, retention and federal access. This resistance is long overdue. We cannot afford to become so distracted by the theater of politics that we fail to notice the architecture of tyranny being assembled around us. The surveillance state does not care which party you support. It does not care whom you voted for. It does not care whether you believe you have nothing to hide. The cameras are watching. The databases are growing. The networks are connecting. And as I make clear in Battlefield America: The War on the American People and its fictional counterpart The Erik Blair Diaries, unless we act now, there may soon be nowhere left to go without the government knowing exactly where we have been. WC: 2515

1 week ago

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While the Political Circus Distracts Us, Flock Builds the Digital Police State [SHORT]

While Americans remain consumed by partisan politics, Flock’s AI-powered license plate cameras are quietly expanding a nationwide surveillance network capable of recording, analyzing and reconstructing the movements of ordinary people—and in the process, building the infrastructure of a digital police state. While Americans remain transfixed by the political circus—cheering for their preferred party, jeering at the opposition, obsessing over every manufactured outrage and waiting for the next spectacle—the Surveillance State continues its steady march forward. The government is watching. It watches where you go, whom you meet, where you worship, what medical offices you visit, what political rallies you attend, what protests you join, what books you read, what websites you visit and what causes you support. It watches through your phone, your car, your doorbell, your appliances, your purchases, your social media accounts and the cameras positioned along the roads you travel every day. This is how freedom dies in the digital police state: not always through dramatic declarations of martial law or soldiers stationed on every street corner, but through the gradual construction of a technological dragnet—an electronic concentration camp—so pervasive that privacy becomes impossible and anonymity becomes suspicious. Enter Flock Safety, a private surveillance technology company whose automated license plate readers have spread throughout thousands of American communities. These cameras, which do much more than photograph license plates, represent the next evolution of the government’s public-private surveillance partnership. They document the time and location of every passing vehicle and record identifying characteristics such as its make, model, color, damage, roof racks, bumper stickers and other distinctive features. That information can then be placed in a searchable database and used to retrace a vehicle’s movements over time. Yet the real power—and the real danger—of Flock does not come from the cameras alone. It comes from artificial intelligence. A camera can photograph a car. Flock’s AI-powered platform can identify and categorize a vehicle, compare an observation with stored records, generate alerts, identify connections and help police reconstruct where that vehicle has been. AI is what transforms a photograph into the building blocks for a suspect society. With AI, every driver becomes a data point. Every data point becomes a pattern. And every pattern becomes a suspicion. This is how ordinary movements become potentially suspect and subject to government scrutiny. It allows law enforcement agencies to search not only for a complete license plate number but also for partial plates and physical descriptions such as vehicle color, make, model, damage, roof racks, bumper stickers and other identifying characteristics. A police officer might ask the system to locate every red pickup truck with a ladder rack seen near a protest, every vehicle that repeatedly visited a particular address, or every car observed traveling between two locations. The artificial intelligence does the sorting. The database supplies the history. The government receives a list of potential suspects. This is no longer surveillance conducted by individual officers following particular leads. It is surveillance conducted at machine speed, across entire populations, with algorithms deciding whose movements merit further scrutiny. Consider the scale of what is taking place. License plate cameras now log approximately 20 billion vehicle scans every month. Twenty billion. That is not targeted policing. That is mass collection. The overwhelming majority of those scans do not involve stolen cars, wanted suspects, kidnappings or violent crimes. They document ordinary people carrying out the ordinary activities of daily life: driving to work, taking children to school, visiting friends, attending church, keeping medical appointments, participating in protests or simply going home. Yet each of those innocent journeys becomes part of a searchable police database. Mass collection is only the first stage of the AI surveillance state. The next is merging those billions of observations with everything else the government and its corporate partners know about us, part of a much larger shift toward AI-powered “data fusion,” in which license plate records are combined with facial recognition results, surveillance video, police reports, social media activity, commercially purchased information, gunshot-detection alerts and other government databases. Surveillance does not become less invasive merely because the government has outsourced the cameras, databases and algorithms to a private corporation. Nor does it cease to be surveillance because police claim that the information may someday be useful in solving a crime. Indeed, that is the sleight of hand that has allowed the surveillance state to expand so rapidly. The government no longer has to install every camera, maintain every database or directly collect every piece of information. It merely encourages private companies, businesses, homeowners’ associations, schools and individual consumers to create an interconnected surveillance ecosystem—and then asks for access. This public-private arrangement allows government agencies to acquire capabilities they might never receive public approval or sufficient funding to build on their own. It also makes accountability almost impossible. When abuses occur, local police blame the technology provider. The technology provider insists that local police control the data. Federal agencies claim they merely requested access. Local officials say they were unaware that information could be shared beyond their jurisdiction. Everyone points elsewhere. Meanwhile, the American people remain under observation. Under the Fourth Amendment, police are supposed to develop individualized suspicion, establish probable cause and then apply for a warrant to search for evidence connected to a particular person or crime. Mass surveillance systems begin by collecting information on everyone. In the process, every innocent person is treated as a potential suspect whose movements must be recorded just in case the government someday decides they are relevant. This is guilt by algorithm. It is also the same constitutional inversion at the heart of geofence warrants, which allow police to demand information identifying every cellphone that happened to be near a particular location at a particular time. When coupled with a surveillance ecosystem that includes doorbell cameras, facial recognition, drones, cellphone tracking, biometric databases and real-time crime centers, the result is 360-degree surveillance. All of this is taking place while the country remains locked in an endless partisan cage match. Yet we cannot afford to become so distracted by the theater of politics that we fail to notice the architecture of tyranny being assembled around us. The surveillance state does not care which party you support. It does not care whom you voted for. It does not care whether you believe you have nothing to hide. The cameras are watching. The databases are growing. The networks are connecting. And as I make clear in Battlefield America: The War on the American People and its fictional counterpart The Erik Blair Diaries, unless we act now, there may soon be nowhere left to go without the government knowing exactly where we have been. WC: 1072

1 week ago

Victory for the First Amendment: Florida Supreme Court Rejects Attempt to Police Political Speech & Punish Campaign Speech

In a unanimous decision reaffirming that political speech receives the highest protection under the First Amendment, the Florida Supreme Court ruled that the government cannot use attorney disciplinary rules to punish a candidate for statements made during an election campaign. TALLAHASSEE, Fla. — In a unanimous decision reaffirming that political speech receives the highest protection under the First Amendment, the Florida Supreme Court ruled that the government cannot use attorney disciplinary rules to punish a candidate for statements made during an election campaign. The ruling in The Florida Bar v. Crowley reinforces the principle that government cannot serve as the arbiter of acceptable political debate. In coming to the defense of decorated Gulf War veteran and attorney Christopher Crowley after the Florida Bar sought to discipline him for statements he made while campaigning for Florida’s 20th Judicial Circuit State Attorney position, Rutherford Institute attorneys argued that the First Amendment provides heightened protection of speech in the election context and allows candidates to communicate relevant information to voters. The Court agreed, citing James Madison’s observation that in a constitutional republic, “the censorial power is in the people over the Government, and not in the Government over the people.” Quoting Madison, the Court emphasized that the people’s “right of freely examining public characters and measures, and of free communication among the people thereon,” is “the only effectual guardian of every other right.” Without the freedom “to examine, to discuss, and to ascertain” the character of candidates seeking public office, the Court noted, voters would be forced to make their choices in ignorance. “The First Amendment exists to protect the freedom of the American people to criticize those who seek to govern them,” said constitutional attorney John W. Whitehead, president of The Rutherford Institute and author of Battlefield America: The War on the American People. “When government licensing boards begin deciding which campaign statements are acceptable, they cease protecting the public and begin policing political thought. The Constitution leaves that judgment where it belongs—with the voters.” Crowley, a decorated Gulf War veteran, challenged the incumbent Chief Assistant State Attorney in the Republican primary for State Attorney. During the campaign, Crowley sharply criticized his opponent’s qualifications, record as a prosecutor, and other matters he believed were relevant to voters. The Florida Bar subsequently charged him with violating professional ethics rules prohibiting attorneys from making statements attacking the qualifications or integrity of legal officers or candidates for judicial or legal office. After a trial judge concluded that Crowley’s campaign statements violated the Bar’s rules, The Rutherford Institute entered the case and filed a Motion to Reconsider, arguing that the judge’s analysis violated First Amendment protections by applying an unconstitutional standard that would enable claims through the State Bar to be weaponized to chill speech critical of public officials. When the trial court declined to correct its ruling, Rutherford Institute attorneys appealed to the Florida Supreme Court, arguing that political campaign speech enjoys the highest level of constitutional protection and that professional speech is entitled to no lesser weight under the First Amendment. The Florida Supreme Court agreed, rejecting the Florida Bar’s argument that it possesses broad authority to regulate attorneys’ speech because licensure is a conditional privilege. The decision reinforces one of the First Amendment’s oldest and most important principles: in a constitutional republic, government officials do not decide what political speech the public may hear. That responsibility belongs to the people themselves. The Rutherford Institute, a nonprofit civil liberties organization, provides legal assistance at no charge to individuals whose constitutional rights have been threatened or violated, and educates the public on a wide spectrum of issues affecting their freedoms.

1 week ago

Dissent Is Not Disloyalty: The Right and Duty to Criticize the Government

Criticize the government, question the police state, object to ICE raids, oppose war, challenge corruption, reject propaganda, refuse to salute the party line, or insist that public officials obey the Constitution, and you may find yourself accused of being anti-American, extremist, subversive, ungrateful, communist, terrorist-adjacent or worse. But criticizing the government is not a crime. It is the right—and duty—of a free people. “Since when have we Americans been expected to bow submissively to authority and speak with awe and reverence to those who represent us? The constitutional theory is that we the people are the sovereigns, the state and federal officials only our agents. We who have the final word can speak softly or angrily. We can seek to challenge and annoy, as we need not stay docile and quiet.”—Justice William O. Douglas, dissenting in Colten v. Kentucky (1972) President Trump has no problem criticizing, condemning, insulting, demonizing and threatening those who refuse to fall in line. He has branded political opponents “communists,” denounced critics as anti-American, lashed out at NATO allies, threatened to cut off trade with Spain, and referred to Iran’s leaders as “scum” amid the ongoing war. In Trump’s America, the president is free to call other nations bad actors, label his opponents dangerous, and treat disagreement as betrayal. But dare to criticize Trump, his administration, ICE, the police state, the war machine, the surveillance state, or the government’s steady assault on the Constitution, and you may find yourself treated as the threat. This is the hypocrisy of the moment: those in power claim an unlimited right to criticize everyone else, while increasingly denying the people the right to criticize them. Criticize the government, question the police state, object to ICE raids, oppose war, challenge corruption, reject propaganda, refuse to salute the party line, or insist that public officials obey the Constitution, and you may find yourself accused of being anti-American, extremist, subversive, ungrateful, communist, terrorist-adjacent or worse. This is how free speech dies: not all at once, but by redefining dissent as disloyalty. Yet the First Amendment was not written to mandate flattery and applause for those in power. It was written to safeguard the right of the people to criticize, condemn, expose, challenge and resist government abuses without fear of being investigated, surveilled, threatened, prosecuted or treated like enemies of the state. The American Revolution itself began as an act of criticism. The Declaration of Independence was a bill of complaints against a government that had abused its power, violated the rights of the people, used the military to intimidate civilians, obstructed justice, imposed unjust burdens, and treated resistance as rebellion. By today’s standards, the Founders would likely be labeled extremists, agitators, radicals, anti-government dissidents and threats to national security. What was once rebellion against tyranny is now being recast as a warning sign of extremism. That is the police state’s playbook for discrediting dissent: start with finger-pointing and name-calling, then turn criticism into subversion, dissent into danger, and those who demand accountability into enemies of the state. On cue, President Trump and his allies have increasingly wrapped political opposition in the language of extremism, communism, terrorism and anti-Americanism. We have seen this movie before. It was called McCarthyism. Then, as now, the charge of “communism” was less about ideology than control: a smear used to discredit critics, frighten citizens, ruin reputations, trigger investigations, justify blacklists and make government power appear patriotic. The accusation did not have to be true. It only had to be useful. In the Trump administration’s telling, criticism of the country is evidence of ideological rot, radicalism or disloyalty. The message is unmistakable: love America or leave it; praise it or be punished; comply or be watched, surveilled and targeted. That is not patriotism. That is tyranny dressed up in red, white and blue. This campaign against dissent is not limited to protests, political speeches or social media posts. It extends to the past itself. Consider the administration’s war on historical memory. The Trump administration has now accused the Smithsonian’s National Museum of American History of pushing “extreme political activism.” In a 162-page report, the White House has attacked the museum for presenting aspects of American history that do not conform to the administration’s preferred ideology. The Smithsonian’s offense, apparently, is that it has failed to sufficiently sanitize its depiction of American history by removing references to slavery, exploitation, Native displacement, civil rights struggles, labor unrest, police abuses, government lies, war crimes and the long, hard fight to make the words “We the People” mean something more than political decoration. This is not about history. It is about whitewashing history. A government that gets to dictate how the past is remembered will soon dictate how the present may be discussed. A government that insists museums must celebrate America rather than tell the truth about America is not defending patriotism. It is manufacturing propaganda. In an Orwellian throwback to 1984’s requirement that “you must love Big Brother. It is not enough to obey him: you must love him,” the Trump administration has proposed installing signs at every entrance to the Smithsonian’s exhibits that read, “Warning: the exhibits in this museum were prepared by people who don't want you to love your country.” History is not supposed to be a Hallmark card. It is supposed to be a warning. That same demand for state-mandated devotion—the insistence that to love America one must flatter it, sanitize it and never demand better of it—was on display in the backlash to New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani’s 250th anniversary remarks invoking the promises of the Declaration of Independence. Whatever one thinks of Mamdani’s politics, the reaction to his speech was telling. Critics blasted the speech as ungrateful, divisive and hostile to American values, and Mamdani was denounced as anti-American for daring to suggest that America’s greatness lies not in pretending that its promises have already been fulfilled but in demanding that they be fulfilled for all. Yet that is precisely what the Declaration of Independence was about. The Declaration was a protest document. It did not flatter the king. It accused him. It did not praise the empire. It indicted it. It did not say, “Everything is fine.” It said the government had become destructive of the rights it existed to secure. That is the American tradition. Not government-approved history. Not obedience to presidents, police, generals, bureaucrats or political parties. The American tradition is dissent. The American tradition is resistance to tyranny. The American tradition is the right—and the duty—to criticize the government. This is why the First Amendment stands first as a chain placed around the neck of government power: Freedom of speech. Freedom of the press. Freedom of religion. Freedom of assembly. The right to petition the government for a redress of grievances. These are not separate freedoms. Together, they protect the ability of the people to speak, gather, organize, investigate, expose, protest and demand accountability from those who govern in their name. Without the right to criticize the government, every other right becomes conditional. Once the government is allowed to decide which criticism is patriotic and which criticism is dangerous, the Bill of Rights becomes a permission slip. Rights once guaranteed become privileges reserved for those who flatter power, obey orders and keep their grievances to themselves. Once criticism is treated as extremism, constitutional rights become privileges reserved for the compliant. This is why the government’s increasing tendency to equate dissent with danger should alarm every American, regardless of party. We have already seen what this looks like. Americans who criticize ICE online, write angry emails to government officials, document raids, protest enforcement actions, or speak out against official misconduct increasingly risk visits, warnings, subpoenas, surveillance or investigations by the government’s secret police. The government does not need to jail everyone in order to silence a population. It only needs to make examples of a few. A knock on the door. A warning from agents. A subpoena. A phone call from law enforcement. A file opened. A name entered into a database. A social media post flagged. A protest monitored. A journalist questioned. A nonprofit investigated. A student visa threatened. A donor list scrutinized. A museum audited. A professor disciplined. A mayor denounced as anti-American. A citizen taught to think twice before speaking again. This is how a free people are trained to censor themselves. Let us be clear: violence and true threats can and should be investigated. No one has a constitutional right to assault, threaten, stalk, bomb, kill or terrorize. But criticism is not violence. Anger is not terrorism. Dissent is not extremism. Opposition is not treason. Petitioning the government for redress of grievances is not a crime. It is the essence of citizenship. Yet every administration, sooner or later, discovers the convenience of labeling its critics as threats. John Adams used the Sedition Act to punish critics of the federal government. Woodrow Wilson used the Espionage and Sedition Acts to prosecute antiwar speech. Richard Nixon kept enemies lists. George W. Bush gave us the Patriot Act, warrantless surveillance, watchlists and the language of “with us or against us.” Barack Obama targeted whistleblowers. Joe Biden’s administration leaned on agencies and platforms in the name of combatting misinformation and domestic extremism. Donald Trump has taken all of that machinery and openly aimed it at political enemies, protesters, immigrants, journalists, universities, museums, law firms and anyone else who refuses to bow. Do not make the mistake of thinking this is merely a Trump problem. Trump is not the disease. He is the symptom. The disease is power. The disease is a government that believes it may define truth, patriotism, extremism, history, loyalty and acceptable opinion. The disease is a police state that has learned to speak in the language of safety, order, border security, anti-terrorism, anti-communism, anti-radicalism, public health, national unity and American greatness. The disease is the dangerous idea that government exists to be obeyed rather than restrained. The Founders knew better. They did not trust government. They bound it down. They did not assume that rulers would be virtuous. They divided power, checked power, limited power and gave the people the tools to expose and resist power. They understood that the greatest threat to liberty would not come from citizens criticizing the government. It would come from government officials who believed themselves entitled to silence criticism. That is why the right to criticize government cannot be treated as a partisan indulgence. No matter which party holds power, the people must be free to criticize the government. When Republicans are in power, Democrats must be free to criticize the government. When Democrats are in power, Republicans must be free to criticize the government. When police, ICE, the military, the courts, Congress or the president abuse their authority, citizens must be free to say so—loudly, publicly and without fear of being branded enemies of the state. This is not incitement. This is accountability. A government that cannot tolerate criticism does not deserve power. A president who treats dissent as disloyalty has betrayed his oath of office. A nation that punishes its truth-tellers has lost sight of its principles. And a people who self-censor because they are afraid to criticize their government are no longer free. This is the great danger of the moment. We are being told that to love America, we must stop seeing what has been done in America’s name. We must stop talking about the bodies, the prisons, the raids, the wars, the surveillance, the corruption, the cages, the lies, the poverty, the brutality, the stolen land, the stolen labor, the broken treaties, the broken families, the broken promises and the broken Constitution. We are being told that patriotism requires amnesia. That is a lie. Real patriotism is not worship of government. Real patriotism is not loyalty to a president. Real patriotism is not blind obedience to police. Real patriotism is not a flag big enough to cover up injustice. Real patriotism is the willingness to tell the truth about your country because you believe it can and must be better. Those who criticize America are often the only ones still taking America seriously. The abolitionists were called agitators. The suffragists were called radicals. The labor organizers were called subversives. The civil rights marchers were called outside agitators and communists. The antiwar protesters were called traitors. The whistleblowers were called criminals. The journalists were called enemies of the people. The immigrants demanding dignity are called invaders. The citizens filming police are called threats. The protesters opposing ICE are called extremists. The historians telling the truth are called activists. The pattern never changes. Power always has a vocabulary for discrediting those who challenge it. Yet history has repeatedly vindicated the critics. America did not become freer because citizens kept quiet. America became freer because citizens made themselves impossible to ignore. They marched. They wrote. They spoke. They published. They exposed. They resisted. They refused to comply with unjust laws. They demanded amendments. They challenged police. They sued officials. They filled jails. They confronted presidents. They forced the country to look in the mirror. That is not anti-American. That is how America survives. The irony is that the loudest defenders of “American greatness” are often the most eager to criminalize the very conduct that made America possible. They celebrate 1776 while condemning the spirit of 1776. They praise the Founders while fearing the people. They quote the Declaration while attacking those who petition for redress of grievances. They wrap themselves in the flag while trampling the freedoms for which the flag is supposed to stand. They call themselves patriots while demanding servility. They insist that America is exceptional while treating the Constitution as optional. They want citizens who salute, not citizens who think. They want history without victims, rights without resistance, liberty without dissent, and patriotism without conscience. That is not freedom. That is authoritarianism with fireworks. In such a climate, silence is surrender. When the government claims the power to decide what history may be taught, what speech may be tolerated, what criticism may be investigated, what protest may be monitored, what viewpoint may be flagged, and what truths may be spoken, the people have a duty to push back. We must insist that the First Amendment protects the speech government hates most. We must insist that criticizing ICE is not a crime. We must insist that criticizing the president is not treason. We must insist that criticizing police is not extremism. We must insist that criticizing America’s failures is not anti-American. We must insist that history belongs to the people, not to politicians. We must insist that no president, no agency, no party and no bureaucrat gets to decide what patriotism requires. We must insist that the Constitution means what it says. After all, the government works for us—not the other way around. The moment Americans forget that, the experiment in self-government is over. So criticize the government. Criticize it loudly. Criticize it relentlessly. Criticize it when it spies, lies, censors, raids, detains, prosecutes, propagandizes, militarizes, profiteers and abuses. Criticize it when it rewrites history, calls truth anti-American, mistakes obedience for patriotism, and forgets that “We the People” are the masters and the government is the servant. That is the duty of a free people. As I make clear in Battlefield America: The War on the American People and its fictional counterpart The Erik Blair Diaries, the police state does not need everyone to agree with it. It only needs enough people to fear disagreeing with it. We do not owe the government our silence. We owe the Constitution our vigilance. WC: 2546

2 weeks ago

Dissent Is Not Disloyalty: The Right and Duty to Criticize the Government [SHORT]

Criticize the government, question the police state, object to ICE raids, oppose war, challenge corruption, reject propaganda, refuse to salute the party line, or insist that public officials obey the Constitution, and you may find yourself accused of being anti-American, extremist, subversive, ungrateful, communist, terrorist-adjacent or worse. President Trump has no problem criticizing, condemning, insulting, demonizing and threatening those who refuse to fall in line. He has branded political opponents “communists,” denounced critics as anti-American, lashed out at NATO allies, threatened to cut off trade with Spain, and referred to Iran’s leaders as “scum” amid the ongoing war. In Trump’s America, the president is free to call other nations bad actors, label his opponents dangerous, and treat disagreement as betrayal. But dare to criticize Trump, his administration, ICE, the police state, the war machine, the surveillance state, or the government’s steady assault on the Constitution, and you may find yourself treated as the threat. This is the hypocrisy of the moment: those in power claim an unlimited right to criticize everyone else, while increasingly denying the people the right to criticize them. Criticize the government, question the police state, object to ICE raids, oppose war, challenge corruption, reject propaganda, refuse to salute the party line, or insist that public officials obey the Constitution, and you may find yourself accused of being anti-American, extremist, subversive, ungrateful, communist, terrorist-adjacent or worse. This is how free speech dies: not all at once, but by redefining dissent as disloyalty. Yet the First Amendment was not written to mandate flattery and applause for those in power. It was written to safeguard the right of the people to criticize, condemn, expose, challenge and resist government abuses without fear of being investigated, surveilled, threatened, prosecuted or treated like enemies of the state. The American Revolution itself began as an act of criticism. The Declaration of Independence was a bill of complaints against a government that had abused its power, violated the rights of the people, used the military to intimidate civilians, obstructed justice, imposed unjust burdens, and treated resistance as rebellion. By today’s standards, the Founders would likely be labeled extremists, agitators, radicals, anti-government dissidents and threats to national security. What was once rebellion against tyranny is now being recast as a warning sign of extremism. That is the police state’s playbook for discrediting dissent: start with finger-pointing and name-calling, then turn criticism into subversion, dissent into danger, and those who demand accountability into enemies of the state. On cue, President Trump and his allies have increasingly wrapped political opposition in the language of extremism, communism, terrorism and anti-Americanism. The government’s increasing tendency to equate dissent with danger should alarm every American, regardless of party. We have already seen what this looks like. Americans who criticize ICE online, write angry emails to government officials, document raids, protest enforcement actions, or speak out against official misconduct increasingly risk visits, warnings, subpoenas, surveillance or investigations by the government’s secret police. The government does not need to jail everyone in order to silence a population. It only needs to make examples of a few. A knock on the door. A warning from agents. A subpoena. A phone call from law enforcement. A file opened. A name entered into a database. A social media post flagged. A protest monitored. A journalist questioned. A nonprofit investigated. A student visa threatened. A donor list scrutinized. A museum audited. A professor disciplined. A mayor denounced as anti-American. A citizen taught to think twice before speaking again. This is how a free people are trained to censor themselves. Let us be clear: violence and true threats can and should be investigated. No one has a constitutional right to assault, threaten, stalk, bomb, kill or terrorize. But criticism is not violence. Anger is not terrorism. Dissent is not extremism. Opposition is not treason. Petitioning the government for redress of grievances is not a crime. It is the essence of citizenship. Yet every administration, sooner or later, discovers the convenience of labeling its critics as threats. Richard Nixon kept enemies lists. George W. Bush gave us the Patriot Act, warrantless surveillance, watchlists and the language of “with us or against us.” Barack Obama targeted whistleblowers. Joe Biden’s administration leaned on agencies and platforms in the name of combatting misinformation and domestic extremism. Donald Trump has taken all of that machinery and openly aimed it at political enemies, protesters, immigrants, journalists, universities, museums, law firms and anyone else who refuses to bow. The right to criticize government cannot be treated as a partisan indulgence. No matter which party holds power, the people must be free to criticize the government. This is the great danger of the moment. We are being told that patriotism requires amnesia. That is a lie. Real patriotism is not worship of government. Real patriotism is not loyalty to a president. Real patriotism is not blind obedience to police. Real patriotism is not a flag big enough to cover up injustice. Real patriotism is the willingness to tell the truth about your country because you believe it can and must be better. Those who criticize America are often the only ones still taking America seriously. When the government claims the power to decide what history may be taught, what speech may be tolerated, what criticism may be investigated, what protest may be monitored, what viewpoint may be flagged, and what truths may be spoken, the people have a duty to push back. We must insist that the First Amendment protects the speech government hates most. We must insist that criticizing ICE is not a crime. We must insist that criticizing the president is not treason. We must insist that criticizing police is not extremism. We must insist that criticizing America’s failures is not anti-American. We must insist that history belongs to the people, not to politicians. We must insist that no president, no agency, no party and no bureaucrat gets to decide what patriotism requires. We must insist that the Constitution means what it says. After all, the government works for us—not the other way around. The moment Americans forget that, the experiment in self-government is over. So criticize the government. Criticize it loudly. Criticize it relentlessly. Criticize it when it spies, lies, censors, raids, detains, prosecutes, propagandizes, militarizes, profiteers and abuses. Criticize it when it rewrites history, calls truth anti-American, mistakes obedience for patriotism, and forgets that “We the People” are the masters and the government is the servant. That is the duty of a free people. As I make clear in Battlefield America: The War on the American People and its fictional counterpart The Erik Blair Diaries, the police state does not need everyone to agree with it. It only needs enough people to fear disagreeing with it. We do not owe the government our silence. We owe the Constitution our vigilance. WC: 1093

2 weeks ago