foreignpolicy--2020-06-15--It Can’t Happen in Sweden—Even When It Does

It Can ’ t Happen in Sweden—Even When It Does The assassination of Prime Minister Olof Palme in 1986 was a tremendous shock to Sweden .
It didn ’ t seem improbable ; it seemed impossible , as if Donald Trump were to announce he had converted to Islam .
If Palme had been struck down by a meteorite , it would have seemed more credible than that he was killed by a fellow Swede .
It was easy to believe that he was dead .
I was in Stockholm for the funeral cortege , and—although the service was theologically @ @ @ @ @ @ @ crowd that filled the gray streets for miles was one of the most profound religious experiences of my life .
We felt that the entire nation was united in its grief and that in that huge , almost impersonal grief everyone could bring their own smaller , personal mournings and lay them down like wreaths at his grave .
What was hard to believe was that he could have been killed on an impulse , for no comprehensible reason .
Such an enormous death seemed to demand an equally portentous explanation .
That @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for the ludicrous incompetence of the immediate official response .
The responsible police chief could not be reached on the night of Palme ’ s killing because he was off in the countryside with a colleague ’ s wife .
The national radio station did not broadcast a report of his death until foreign ones had done so because it was assumed to be a hoax .
And once the investigation started in earnest , the man in charge , Hans Holmer , became convinced that there must have been a Kurdish gang @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in part because of the racism common among Swedes of his generation , but it was also part of the belief that Palme , a figure world famous in Sweden , must have been killed for his international activities .
Either way , Holmer ’ s fixation on the Kurds was also an expression of his faith in Sweden as a country where such assassinations could not happen and in Swedes as a people who could not be such foul criminals .
This faith was very generally shared .
It is part of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ they cite Sweden ’ s very high levels of social trust in justifying their exceptionally noncoercive approach to combating the coronavirus pandemic .
What the pandemic response and the Palme investigation have in common is their revelation of the self-destructive aspects of Swedish self-belief .
There have always been certain things that you could trust a decent fellow Swede never to do .
They would never walk into a house without removing their shoes ; they would never appear drunk in public ; they would always stop whatever they were doing to watch @ @ @ @ @ @ @ on TV—and no Swede would ever assassinate anyone at all .
These were the things that everyone knew in their bones about being Swedish .
As a literal-minded person , I would be shocked when I heard mothers upbraid their small children with the words “ Sant gor man inte !
” —literally “ People don ’ t do that !
” —because who would ever say it if people really never did .
But of course it was an exhortation , not a description , and one that became a completely self-fulfilling @ @ @ @ @ @ @ with the blindness of the English establishment to the Cambridge spy ring of the 1940s and ’ 50s , including Guy Burgess , Donald Maclean , and Harold Philby , who were all recognizably English gentlemen like their colleagues in the Foreign Office and MI6 and who therefore simply could not have spied for the Russians because it was not the sort of thing a gentleman could do .
The very high levels of trust within the old British establishment were found , in Sweden , across the whole country .
They were @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Swedish police were driven to conclude that Palme ’ s killer had been a lone Swede , they picked someone as far outside respectable Swedish society as you could get while still being white : an alcoholic loser with a record who had already killed one stranger in a row over Christmas presents .
Christer Pettersson was the sort of drunk who hung around on park benches .
The police told Palme ’ s widow that their suspect was an alcoholic and put him in an identity parade wearing white shoes where all @ @ @ @ @ @ @ wearing polished black shoes .
“ You can see which one ’ s the wino , ” she said .
This was enough to convince her that he was the killer ; it was also enough for an appeal ’ s court to free Pettersson on the grounds of uncertain identification after he had been convicted of Palme ’ s assassination in the first instance .
The police now say , and they appear to be right , that the killer was a very different Swede .
Stig Engstrom was upper-middle class , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ employed as a graphic designer in an insurance company—a respectable man disappointed in his perfectly respectable life .
He seems to have allegedly killed Palme entirely on impulse and did everything possible to draw attention to himself in the first few days of the investigation .
The police seem to have dismissed him for this reason .
He looked like another boring man drawn to the chance to appear interesting .
But he also appeared as far too Swedish to assassinate a prime minister on impulse , even one as widely loathed as @ @ @ @ @ @ @ appeared in a novel about foreigners , he might have made a credible suspect .
This deep , strong , misplaced faith in the specialness of Sweden has reappeared in the coronavirus crisis .
When all other European countries locked down in the face of the virus , the Swedes banned some large gatherings , urged people to be careful , but otherwise allowed life to continue more or less as normal .
Schools stayed open because the health authorities believed that closing them would have more damaging effects on children .
From @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for an epidemic that would last two years or more : A month ago , the country ’ s chief epidemiologist , who got his training fighting Ebola and HIV/AIDS , said the measure of success was not how many had died within the first months but how many would be dead in two or five years ’ time , both directly from the virus and indirectly from its effects on the economy and the rest of the health system .
But this calm planning translated into inaction .
There was a national @ @ @ @ @ @ @ equipment , but no national authority actually bought it : The assumption was that local authorities would do their part , but in a global shortage they could not .
There was a policy aim to keep the virus out of care homes , but it could not in practice be kept out .
Foreigners have marveled at the apparent equanimity of Swedes as the death toll rises and at the trust that they put in the authorities .
But this can ’ t be understood unless you think of it as also @ @ @ @ @ @ @ It ’ s not just that the people trust their government , as they did until the last fortnight or so .
The authorities trusted the people .
Again and again in interviews with the health authorities , you could see that they believed that everyone ( or almost everyone ) would do their duty if it was made clear what duty demanded .
Even if the country is much less blindly confident of its place in the world today than it was in 1986 , there is still a sense of national @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to find outside the rest of Scandinavia .
The bureaucracy expected the national government to follow its recommendations ; the national government trusted local governments ; local governments trusted the people .
The people trusted the experts .
Imagine the surprise and disappointment when these trusts were variously betrayed .
This is a curious kind of unconscious nationalism , almost devoid of the symbols with which other nationalisms distinguish themselves .
A Swedish sociologist told me recently that he had approached the information desk at Stockholm Central Station to ask about train times @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in English .
The desk was manned by an English person who did not speak Swedish .
There are other countries where almost everyone can be expected to speak English as a second language well enough to ask for information about a train ( although this may well not be true of Syrian refugees and other immigrants ) .
But it ’ s hard to imagine any other country where the information desk in the train station of the country ’ s capital is manned by someone who doesn ’ t actually speak @ @ @ @ @ @ @ might seem an act of national self-abnegation , an enormous cultural cringe .
But that would be to understand Sweden quite backward .
It is a country so self-confident in some ways that the language in which Swedishness is expressed seems unimportant .
That collective self-confidence gives it the levels of trust so envied by the outside world—and leads to disasters like the Palme investigation and , perhaps , the country ’ s coronavirus policy .
When it is unimaginable that Sweden should be wrong , the possibility is never imagined until far @ @ @

The assassination of Prime Minister Olof Palme in 1986 was a tremendous shock to Sweden. It didn’t seem improbable; it seemed impossible, as if Donald Trump were to announce he had converted to Islam. If Palme had been struck down by a meteorite, it would have seemed more credible than that he was killed by a fellow Swede.
The assassination of Prime Minister Olof Palme in 1986 was a tremendous shock to Sweden. It didn’t seem improbable; it seemed impossible, as if Donald Trump were to announce he had converted to Islam. If Palme had been struck down by a meteorite, it would have seemed more credible than that he was killed by a fellow Swede.
It was easy to believe that he was dead. I was in Stockholm for the funeral cortege, and—although the service was theologically atheist—to be a part of the silent crowd that filled the gray streets for miles was one of the most profound religious experiences of my life. We felt that the entire nation was united in its grief and that in that huge, almost impersonal grief everyone could bring their own smaller, personal mournings and lay them down like wreaths at his grave.
What was hard to believe was that he could have been killed on an impulse, for no comprehensible reason. Such an enormous death seemed to demand an equally portentous explanation. That is at least the most charitable explanation for the ludicrous incompetence of the immediate official response. The responsible police chief could not be reached on the night of Palme’s killing because he was off in the countryside with a colleague’s wife. The national radio station did not broadcast a report of his death until foreign ones had done so because it was assumed to be a hoax. And once the investigation started in earnest, the man in charge, Hans Holmer, became convinced that there must have been a Kurdish gang behind it. This may have been in part because of the racism common among Swedes of his generation, but it was also part of the belief that Palme, a figure world famous in Sweden, must have been killed for his international activities.
Either way, Holmer’s fixation on the Kurds was also an expression of his faith in Sweden as a country where such assassinations could not happen and in Swedes as a people who could not be such foul criminals. This faith was very generally shared. It is part of what Swedish authorities are referring to when they cite Sweden’s very high levels of social trust in justifying their exceptionally noncoercive approach to combating the coronavirus pandemic. What the pandemic response and the Palme investigation have in common is their revelation of the self-destructive aspects of Swedish self-belief.
There have always been certain things that you could trust a decent fellow Swede never to do. They would never walk into a house without removing their shoes; they would never appear drunk in public; they would always stop whatever they were doing to watch a Swedish athlete win an important competition on TV—and no Swede would ever assassinate anyone at all. These were the things that everyone knew in their bones about being Swedish. As a literal-minded person, I would be shocked when I heard mothers upbraid their small children with the words “Sant gor man inte!”—literally “People don’t do that!”—because who would ever say it if people really never did. But of course it was an exhortation, not a description, and one that became a completely self-fulfilling prophecy.
Perhaps there is an analogy with the blindness of the English establishment to the Cambridge spy ring of the 1940s and ’50s, including Guy Burgess, Donald Maclean, and Harold Philby, who were all recognizably English gentlemen like their colleagues in the Foreign Office and MI6 and who therefore simply could not have spied for the Russians because it was not the sort of thing a gentleman could do. The very high levels of trust within the old British establishment were found, in Sweden, across the whole country. They were similarly vulnerable to betrayal.
When the Swedish police were driven to conclude that Palme’s killer had been a lone Swede, they picked someone as far outside respectable Swedish society as you could get while still being white: an alcoholic loser with a record who had already killed one stranger in a row over Christmas presents. Christer Pettersson was the sort of drunk who hung around on park benches. The police told Palme’s widow that their suspect was an alcoholic and put him in an identity parade wearing white shoes where all the other participants were police officers and wearing polished black shoes. “You can see which one’s the wino,” she said. This was enough to convince her that he was the killer; it was also enough for an appeal’s court to free Pettersson on the grounds of uncertain identification after he had been convicted of Palme’s assassination in the first instance.
The police now say, and they appear to be right, that the killer was a very different Swede. Stig Engstrom was upper-middle class, conservative but not apparently extremist, and employed as a graphic designer in an insurance company—a respectable man disappointed in his perfectly respectable life. He seems to have allegedly killed Palme entirely on impulse and did everything possible to draw attention to himself in the first few days of the investigation. The police seem to have dismissed him for this reason. He looked like another boring man drawn to the chance to appear interesting. But he also appeared as far too Swedish to assassinate a prime minister on impulse, even one as widely loathed as Palme.
Had he, perhaps, appeared in a novel about foreigners, he might have made a credible suspect.
This deep, strong, misplaced faith in the specialness of Sweden has reappeared in the coronavirus crisis. When all other European countries locked down in the face of the virus, the Swedes banned some large gatherings, urged people to be careful, but otherwise allowed life to continue more or less as normal. Schools stayed open because the health authorities believed that closing them would have more damaging effects on children. From the beginning, the Swedes were planning for an epidemic that would last two years or more: A month ago, the country’s chief epidemiologist, who got his training fighting Ebola and HIV/AIDS, said the measure of success was not how many had died within the first months but how many would be dead in two or five years’ time, both directly from the virus and indirectly from its effects on the economy and the rest of the health system.
But this calm planning translated into inaction. There was a national plan for the purchase of personal protective equipment, but no national authority actually bought it: The assumption was that local authorities would do their part, but in a global shortage they could not. There was a policy aim to keep the virus out of care homes, but it could not in practice be kept out.
Foreigners have marveled at the apparent equanimity of Swedes as the death toll rises and at the trust that they put in the authorities. But this can’t be understood unless you think of it as also a trust they put in themselves. It’s not just that the people trust their government, as they did until the last fortnight or so. The authorities trusted the people. Again and again in interviews with the health authorities, you could see that they believed that everyone (or almost everyone) would do their duty if it was made clear what duty demanded. Even if the country is much less blindly confident of its place in the world today than it was in 1986, there is still a sense of national unity and collective effort that is hard to find outside the rest of Scandinavia. The bureaucracy expected the national government to follow its recommendations; the national government trusted local governments; local governments trusted the people. The people trusted the experts. Imagine the surprise and disappointment when these trusts were variously betrayed.
This is a curious kind of unconscious nationalism, almost devoid of the symbols with which other nationalisms distinguish themselves. A Swedish sociologist told me recently that he had approached the information desk at Stockholm Central Station to ask about train times and been asked to rephrase his question in English. The desk was manned by an English person who did not speak Swedish. There are other countries where almost everyone can be expected to speak English as a second language well enough to ask for information about a train (although this may well not be true of Syrian refugees and other immigrants). But it’s hard to imagine any other country where the information desk in the train station of the country’s capital is manned by someone who doesn’t actually speak the native language. To do so might seem an act of national self-abnegation, an enormous cultural cringe. But that would be to understand Sweden quite backward. It is a country so self-confident in some ways that the language in which Swedishness is expressed seems unimportant.
That collective self-confidence gives it the levels of trust so envied by the outside world—and leads to disasters like the Palme investigation and, perhaps, the country’s coronavirus policy. When it is unimaginable that Sweden should be wrong, the possibility is never imagined until far too late.


foreignpolicy--2020-06-15--The War Has Arrived Inside the Assad Family

The War Has Arrived Inside the Assad Family In the 1920s , Ali Sulayman al-Wahhish earned the nickname Al-Assad , or The Lion , for entreating the French to protect the minority sect of Alawites in a Syria dominated by Sunni Muslims .
“ Al-Assad ” had a ring to it , so Ali made it his last name .
Little did he know that his progeny would not only rule the country but one day squabble over the spoils of a state lying in ruins .
The rift was visible in the early 1980s as Ali ’ s son @ @ @ @ @ @ @ brother and then-president , Hafez al-Assad , who himself had usurped power in a coup a decade earlier .
Hafez successfully sidelined Rifaat and taught his son Bashar al-Assad how to stop rebellions—familial and otherwise—in their tracks .
Bashar paid close attention , as attested by his bombing of cities across Syria and the killing and displacing of millions who stood against him in the uprising that began in 2011 .
He also kept a tight grip on his dozens of cousins through a combination of monetary incentives and an ever-lurking threat to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , the unthinkable happened .
Rami Makhlouf , Bashar ’ s maternal cousin and one of the family ’ s richest members , challenged the president ’ s decision to charge him $ 230 million in back taxes , shredding the frail veneer of family solidarity .
Since then , several Assad cousins have publicly questioned the efficacy of Bashar ’ s government , indirectly taking aim at him .
Makhlouf ’ s criticism seems to be an inflection point for the Bashar regime .
If Bashar loses the loyalty of his family @ @ @ @ @ @ @ fair to wonder whether he can survive in power at all .
While Makhlouf seems to have interpreted the imposition of back taxes as a provocation , Bashar may have seen it as a demand for reciprocity .
Makhlouf is estimated today to be worth $ 5 billion , wealth he only acquired because his businesses—which include Syriatel , the country ’ s biggest telecom company—had the blessing of the regime .
Now that the Syrian state has been plunged into crisis by economic sanctions—the Syrian pound devalued from 50 pounds per U.S. @ @ @ @ @ @ @ pounds per U.S. dollar in 2020 , and 90 percent of people are believed to be living in dire poverty—it wants Makhlouf ’ s assistance to keep it afloat .
But that rationale has not proved persuasive for Makhlouf .
In May , Makhlouf published several amateur video clips online that , while wrapped in courtesies , warned Bashar that he risked losing the support of the broad swathe of Alawites—including militiamen—on the tycoon ’ s payroll .
Makhlouf exploited old sectarian tensions as he insinuated that the fault lied with the president @ @ @ @ @ @ @ who he alluded was trying to steal Alawite money , thus casting doubt on Bashar ’ s own commitment to his sectarian group .
The dispute has given fresh hope to Bashar ’ s challengers within the regime .
They hope that Makhlouf may have weakened him irreparably among Alawites and opened space for challenging his role atop the regime , even as it is widely taken for granted that Bashar would violently resist any direct opposition from within his family .
Indeed , that has been a consistent pattern .
Ribal al-Assad @ @ @ @ @ @ @ president and his uncle Rifaat ’ s son , is one of those who have been at the receiving end of Bashar ’ s ire .
In 1994 , outside the Sheraton Hotel in Damascus , Bashar called him names and the altercation turned ugly .
Frightened , Ribal ’ s father booked him a flight and asked him to leave .
At the airport , gun-toting presidential guards fired shots and hung around for two and a half hours to arrest Ribal .
He was apprehended but let go after Rifaat threatened @ @ @ @ @ @ @ every street in Damascus “ if a hair on his son ’ s body was harmed , ” Ribal told Foreign Policy .
Ribal now lives in Spain in self-imposed exile and was at home in lockdown when he got a text with Makhlouf ’ s first video clip .
He described it as a “ menacing gimmick ” and said he laughed when he first saw it .
“ I personally know Rami ; he is a coward .
He won ’ t go against the regime .
He is nothing without @ @ @ @ @ @ @ You can lose your life for much less , let alone challenging Bashar on social media .
This is just a show .
Bashar is using Rami to tell the Russians that he will lose support among the Alawites and that it would affect their interests in the coastal area where the Russians have their naval base and airport.
” Ribal recounted the events on Oct. 20 , 1999 , when his family home on the shores in Latakia came under attack by soldiers of the regime to ensure that Bashar—and not Ribal @ @ @ @ @ @ @ national leader .
“ My uncle , Hafez , was ill , and succession was a matter of time .
The regime wanted to pass the baton to Bashar and make sure there was no opposition to his ascendency and that they would crush anyone who would oppose it .
That is why they attacked our house and supporters.
” Many of Rifaat ’ s children swore allegiance to Bashar and continued to live in Syria but still nurse grievances .
One of them , Douraid al-Assad , was known to toe the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ praises—until recently .
In a scathing tweet May 7 , soon after Makhlouf released his videos , Douraid asked Bashar to meet the hundreds of relatives who share his last name but have not enjoyed his privileged life .
“ They say Syria is ruled by the Assad family , ” Douraid tweeted .
“ I have a request .
100 to 200 members of the family have never met you and they want to see you .
Many of them have grown up , had children but only seen you on TV.
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ diplomat now based in the United States , said Douraid ’ s newfound courage has an ulterior motive .
“ Such brazenness was never tolerated , ” Barabandi said .
“ Now Douraid is challenging Bashar openly to present his father , Rifaat al-Assad , as an alternative .
If Douraid did not feel the community was angry at Bashar , he would not dare say this.
” Ribal and Douraid ’ s opposition is partly motivated by their family ’ s claim to political power .
But other family members , including @ @ @ @ @ @ @ out of the family business and deprived of the wealth it has brought to the likes of Makhlouf .
Adnan ran a militia and fought on the side of Hafez against the Muslim Brotherhood in 1982 in what has come to be known as the Hama massacre , in which thousands of brothers and civilians were killed .
But in a letter he wrote to Makhlouf recently , he suggested that he felt inadequately compensated for his loyalty .
While he opposed the tycoon for crying wolf and described him as “ the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , ” he painted himself as the real victim of a corrupt regime and took a careful dig at his cousin the president .
“ I have been selling my properties to meet the needs of my family , as my salary is just about $ 50 after 42 years of military service , ” the letter said .
It read like a sycophantic ode interspersed with a litany of complaints of how he had repeatedly been taken advantage of by the regime .
Back in October , Arab media reported on a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ government by the family of his aunt Bahija .
Her son Ghaydaq fought for Bashar in Deir Ezzor during the uprising and yet was killed afterward in Latakia in clashes with a regime soldier who had come to arrest him on obscure criminal charges .
Ghaydaq ’ s family vowed revenge in a Facebook post , but fearing repercussions , they later deleted it .
As the economy tumbles , average Assad supporters are beginning to wonder if their sacrifices have been worth it .
Loyalists have paid for Bashar ’ s survival @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of men during the uprising .
At the end of the war , they expected to reap some material profit—more jobs , promotions , or preferential treatment in government-awarded business contracts .
Instead , the bankrupt government has left them poorer and hungry .
Barabandi , the former Syrian diplomat , said that the Alawites are flabbergasted at the Makhlouf-Bashar saga .
“ They think they lost so much and there was no reward in the end , ” Barabandi said .
“ They are fuming when they see these two cousins fight @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for pennies.
” Several Syrian experts told Foreign Policy that there is no doubt that Bashar al-Assad is losing support among Alawites .
But they also say that the regime continues to control the country with an iron fist and it is premature to count on Bashar ’ s vulnerability .
It is no secret that Ribal and Douraid al-Assad wished that their father , Rifaat , and not Bashar , had succeeded Hafez .
But the old man ’ s past is stained with allegations of participation in the Hama massacre and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ it is likely too late for him to fight his way down a bloody road to Damascus .
Ribal , however , is young and admits he would like to be active in Syrian politics .
“ I want to , of course , but as opposition and not be part of any government at this stage , ” he told Foreign Policy .
The other family that has been itching to make a comeback is that of Mustafa Tlass , long-time regime loyalists who defected during the uprising .
Tlass ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ inner circle and a top military commander .
Now based in Paris , Manaf has suggested in Russian media that there are alternatives to Bashar if Russia was interested in backing them .
Manaf ’ s brother , Firas Tlass , who is a Syrian businessman currently based in the United Arab Emirates , thinks that Manaf is an alternative to Bashar and wants to play a role in Syrian politics , but he would return to Syria “ only when Bashar leaves.
” For now , Russia seems more interested in controlling @ @ @ @ @ @ @ forward , he will find it harder to control the country—but it will be easier than ever for Russia to control him .

In the 1920s, Ali Sulayman al-Wahhish earned the nickname Al-Assad, or The Lion, for entreating the French to protect the minority sect of Alawites in a Syria dominated by Sunni Muslims. “Al-Assad” had a ring to it, so Ali made it his last name. Little did he know that his progeny would not only rule the country but one day squabble over the spoils of a state lying in ruins.
In the 1920s, Ali Sulayman al-Wahhish earned the nickname Al-Assad, or The Lion, for entreating the French to protect the minority sect of Alawites in a Syria dominated by Sunni Muslims. “Al-Assad” had a ring to it, so Ali made it his last name. Little did he know that his progeny would not only rule the country but one day squabble over the spoils of a state lying in ruins.
The rift was visible in the early 1980s as Ali’s son Rifaat allegedly tried to dethrone his elder brother and then-president, Hafez al-Assad, who himself had usurped power in a coup a decade earlier. Hafez successfully sidelined Rifaat and taught his son Bashar al-Assad how to stop rebellions—familial and otherwise—in their tracks. Bashar paid close attention, as attested by his bombing of cities across Syria and the killing and displacing of millions who stood against him in the uprising that began in 2011. He also kept a tight grip on his dozens of cousins through a combination of monetary incentives and an ever-lurking threat to their lives.
Last month, however, the unthinkable happened. Rami Makhlouf, Bashar’s maternal cousin and one of the family’s richest members, challenged the president’s decision to charge him $230 million in back taxes, shredding the frail veneer of family solidarity. Since then, several Assad cousins have publicly questioned the efficacy of Bashar’s government, indirectly taking aim at him. Makhlouf’s criticism seems to be an inflection point for the Bashar regime. If Bashar loses the loyalty of his family and other co-religionists, it’s fair to wonder whether he can survive in power at all.
While Makhlouf seems to have interpreted the imposition of back taxes as a provocation, Bashar may have seen it as a demand for reciprocity. Makhlouf is estimated today to be worth $5 billion, wealth he only acquired because his businesses—which include Syriatel, the country’s biggest telecom company—had the blessing of the regime. Now that the Syrian state has been plunged into crisis by economic sanctions—the Syrian pound devalued from 50 pounds per U.S. dollar in 2011 to more than 3,000 pounds per U.S. dollar in 2020, and 90 percent of people are believed to be living in dire poverty—it wants Makhlouf’s assistance to keep it afloat. But that rationale has not proved persuasive for Makhlouf.
In May, Makhlouf published several amateur video clips online that, while wrapped in courtesies, warned Bashar that he risked losing the support of the broad swathe of Alawites—including militiamen—on the tycoon’s payroll. Makhlouf exploited old sectarian tensions as he insinuated that the fault lied with the president’s Sunni wife, Asma, who he alluded was trying to steal Alawite money, thus casting doubt on Bashar’s own commitment to his sectarian group.
The dispute has given fresh hope to Bashar’s challengers within the regime. They hope that Makhlouf may have weakened him irreparably among Alawites and opened space for challenging his role atop the regime, even as it is widely taken for granted that Bashar would violently resist any direct opposition from within his family.
Indeed, that has been a consistent pattern. Ribal al-Assad, the 45-year-old first cousin of the president and his uncle Rifaat’s son, is one of those who have been at the receiving end of Bashar’s ire. In 1994, outside the Sheraton Hotel in Damascus, Bashar called him names and the altercation turned ugly. Frightened, Ribal’s father booked him a flight and asked him to leave. At the airport, gun-toting presidential guards fired shots and hung around for two and a half hours to arrest Ribal. He was apprehended but let go after Rifaat threatened Hafez al-Assad that he would fight in every street in Damascus “if a hair on his son’s body was harmed,” Ribal told Foreign Policy.
Ribal now lives in Spain in self-imposed exile and was at home in lockdown when he got a text with Makhlouf’s first video clip. He described it as a “menacing gimmick” and said he laughed when he first saw it. “I personally know Rami; he is a coward. He won’t go against the regime. He is nothing without Bashar,” Ribal said. “You can lose your life for much less, let alone challenging Bashar on social media. This is just a show. Bashar is using Rami to tell the Russians that he will lose support among the Alawites and that it would affect their interests in the coastal area where the Russians have their naval base and airport.”
Ribal recounted the events on Oct. 20, 1999, when his family home on the shores in Latakia came under attack by soldiers of the regime to ensure that Bashar—and not Ribal’s father, Rifaat—succeeded Hafez as national leader. “My uncle, Hafez, was ill, and succession was a matter of time. The regime wanted to pass the baton to Bashar and make sure there was no opposition to his ascendency and that they would crush anyone who would oppose it. That is why they attacked our house and supporters.”
Many of Rifaat’s children swore allegiance to Bashar and continued to live in Syria but still nurse grievances. One of them, Douraid al-Assad, was known to toe the regime line and sing Bashar’s praises—until recently. In a scathing tweet May 7, soon after Makhlouf released his videos, Douraid asked Bashar to meet the hundreds of relatives who share his last name but have not enjoyed his privileged life. “They say Syria is ruled by the Assad family,” Douraid tweeted. “I have a request. 100 to 200 members of the family have never met you and they want to see you. Many of them have grown up, had children but only seen you on TV.”
Bassam Barabandi, a former Syrian diplomat now based in the United States, said Douraid’s newfound courage has an ulterior motive. “Such brazenness was never tolerated,” Barabandi said. “Now Douraid is challenging Bashar openly to present his father, Rifaat al-Assad, as an alternative. If Douraid did not feel the community was angry at Bashar, he would not dare say this.”
Ribal and Douraid’s opposition is partly motivated by their family’s claim to political power. But other family members, including cousin Gen. Adnan al-Assad simply feel left out of the family business and deprived of the wealth it has brought to the likes of Makhlouf. Adnan ran a militia and fought on the side of Hafez against the Muslim Brotherhood in 1982 in what has come to be known as the Hama massacre, in which thousands of brothers and civilians were killed. But in a letter he wrote to Makhlouf recently, he suggested that he felt inadequately compensated for his loyalty.
While he opposed the tycoon for crying wolf and described him as “the blue whale among the whales of money,” he painted himself as the real victim of a corrupt regime and took a careful dig at his cousin the president. “I have been selling my properties to meet the needs of my family, as my salary is just about $50 after 42 years of military service,” the letter said. It read like a sycophantic ode interspersed with a litany of complaints of how he had repeatedly been taken advantage of by the regime.
Back in October, Arab media reported on a more open challenge to Bashar’s government by the family of his aunt Bahija. Her son Ghaydaq fought for Bashar in Deir Ezzor during the uprising and yet was killed afterward in Latakia in clashes with a regime soldier who had come to arrest him on obscure criminal charges. Ghaydaq’s family vowed revenge in a Facebook post, but fearing repercussions, they later deleted it.
As the economy tumbles, average Assad supporters are beginning to wonder if their sacrifices have been worth it. Loyalists have paid for Bashar’s survival in blood, losing hundreds and thousands of men during the uprising. At the end of the war, they expected to reap some material profit—more jobs, promotions, or preferential treatment in government-awarded business contracts. Instead, the bankrupt government has left them poorer and hungry. Barabandi, the former Syrian diplomat, said that the Alawites are flabbergasted at the Makhlouf-Bashar saga. “They think they lost so much and there was no reward in the end,” Barabandi said. “They are fuming when they see these two cousins fight over billions as the common man struggles for pennies.”
Several Syrian experts told Foreign Policy that there is no doubt that Bashar al-Assad is losing support among Alawites. But they also say that the regime continues to control the country with an iron fist and it is premature to count on Bashar’s vulnerability. It is no secret that Ribal and Douraid al-Assad wished that their father, Rifaat, and not Bashar, had succeeded Hafez. But the old man’s past is stained with allegations of participation in the Hama massacre and, now at 82 years old, it is likely too late for him to fight his way down a bloody road to Damascus. Ribal, however, is young and admits he would like to be active in Syrian politics. “I want to, of course, but as opposition and not be part of any government at this stage,” he told Foreign Policy.
The other family that has been itching to make a comeback is that of Mustafa Tlass, long-time regime loyalists who defected during the uprising. Tlass’s son Manaf was in Bashar’s inner circle and a top military commander. Now based in Paris, Manaf has suggested in Russian media that there are alternatives to Bashar if Russia was interested in backing them. Manaf’s brother, Firas Tlass, who is a Syrian businessman currently based in the United Arab Emirates, thinks that Manaf is an alternative to Bashar and wants to play a role in Syrian politics, but he would return to Syria “only when Bashar leaves.”
For now, Russia seems more interested in controlling rather than replacing Bashar al-Assad. Going forward, he will find it harder to control the country—but it will be easier than ever for Russia to control him.


foreignpolicy--2020-06-15--The Pandemic Has Given Armies in Southeast Asia a Boost

The Pandemic Has Given Armies in Southeast Asia a Boost Some governments in Southeast Asia , slow to respond to the coronavirus pandemic , are now using their militaries to make up for initial inaction .
Indonesia and the Philippines in particular have treated the coronavirus not as a public health matter but rather as a security issue—a development that could undermine democracy in a region with a history of autocratic rule .
In both Jakarta and Manila , retired or senior army officers lead the governments ’ COVID-19 task forces instead of health experts .
The approach contrasts with @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and Vietnam , which placed civilian leaders and health officials in leadership .
Both countries were praised for extensive testing , policy coordination , and transparency , though they had mixed results : Vietnam hasn ’ t recorded a single COVID-19 death , while Singapore now has one of Asia ’ s highest infection rates .
Meanwhile , Myanmar and Thailand also have army leaders in charge , but the military already significantly influences both administrations .
In Indonesia and the Philippines , allowing army officials to manage the crisis suggests that these @ @ @ @ @ @ @ insurgency to quash—not a crisis that requires long-term health reforms .
Civilian control of the military is a relatively recent dynamic in both countries .
The militarized response to the pandemic could facilitate a long-term backslide toward authoritarianism .
In Indonesia , the new roles assigned to army brass risk upsetting delicate civil-military relations and increasing the army ’ s power .
Meanwhile , Philippine President Rodrigo Duterte is accused of using the military to introduce more repressive policies .
“ There is always a risk that mobilizing the military will undermine democracy @ @ @ @ @ @ @ it is up to politicians , activists , and societies to guard against that , ” said Prashanth Parameswaran , the director of the Bower Group Asia consultancy group and a fellow at the Wilson Center .
Failing to take preventative action , leaders turned to army officials for help in containing their outbreaks .
Leaders in Indonesia and the Philippines initially underestimated the pandemic ’ s severity .
Failing to take preventative action , they turned to army officials for help in containing their outbreaks .
Since March , the number of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ After weeks of denying undetected infections , Indonesian President Joko Widodo reported the country ’ s first coronavirus case in early March .
By mid-April , confirmed infections approached 6,000 , and they now surpass 39,000 .
In the Philippines , the Department of Health dismissed the idea of mass testing in March , and by early April , it had reported over 3,000 infections .
There are now more than 26,000 cases .
In Indonesia , the coronavirus fast-response team is led by active Army Lt. Gen. Doni Monardo , the head @ @ @ @ @ @ @ The unit is tasked with contact-tracing , surveillance , and border controls .
Three of the six executive positions are held by senior generals including Doni , and only one of the six has a public health background .
The military also operates COVID-19 emergency hospitals in Jakarta and on Galang Island .
The army isn ’ t in charge of any civilian policy decision-making , but some experts warn that its high-profile presence on the task force could pave the way for a military resurgence in civilian affairs .
The country endured @ @ @ @ @ @ @ under former President Suharto , who formed a military-dominated government .
Indonesia ’ s president , better known as Jokowi , presented himself as a reformist when he came to power in 2014 , but he has cultivated close ties with the military .
In 2015 , he gave the military a greater role in civil administration and Jokowi ’ s current cabinet , selected after his reelection last year , has the highest concentration of military personnel in decades .
Jokowi is also seeking to give the armed forces a formal counterterrorism @ @ @ @ @ @ @ decree last month .
In February , the president was criticized for submitting a bill to parliament that would give him increased control over policymaking .
“ It appears that the military is trying to claw back civilian power and Jokowi is either enabling them or not standing up to them , ” said Zachary Abuza , a professor at the National War College in Washington , where he specializes in Southeast Asian security issues .
If that ’ s the case , the democratic progress that elected civilian governments have achieved over @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the country back to a state of military-backed authoritarianism .
A lack of health care reform is another threat to Indonesia .
Southeast Asia ’ s largest economy is struggling with a shortage of trained medical staff and personal protective equipment .
And Health Minister Terawan Agus Putranto is seen as anti-science , having suggested that the power of prayer will protect Indonesians from the coronavirus .
The country needs leaders with expertise in epidemiology to address the structural issues in the national health care system , said Tangguh Chairil , a national @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Jakarta .
In the Philippines , Defense Secretary Delfin Lorenzana heads the coronavirus task force , flanked by presidential advisor Carlito Galvez Jr. and Interior Secretary Eduardo Año—all former military leaders .
Government critics fear that Duterte could use the military ’ s role on the response team as an opportunity to declare martial law .
“ Are we now in a state of undeclared martial rule and a de facto junta is now running the country ?
” Carlos Zarate , a representative for the leftist party Bayan Muna , said in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ordered police and military units to shoot protesters who breached quarantine rules .
At least 120,000 people were arrested , according to the United Nations Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights .
Philippine Armed Forces spokesperson Edgard Arevalo later said the military was working with police to enforce a “ martial law-like lockdown ” if needed .
Unlike in Indonesia , the Philippine Armed Forces aren ’ t seeking to increase their power , and they already enjoy a high degree of public trust .
But the military ’ s record @ @ @ @ @ @ @ brand critics of the state as communists or terrorists , making them targets of violence .
“ The [ military ] is still using red-tagging tactics against vocal left-leaning critics of the government , ” said Michael Henry Yusingco , a senior research fellow at Ateneo de Manila University .
The army maintains it would uphold human rights in a state of nationwide martial law .
In the case of Mindanao island , where martial law was enforced for over two years due to terrorism threats , business largely continued as usual and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ “ But the same scenario might not happen in nationwide martial law , ” he added .
If nationwide martial law is put into place , the military may be forced to carry out Duterte ’ s orders , which could include conflict with domestic terrorist groups , censorship , and assaults on the free press , Abuza said .
Meanwhile , Duterte is soon expected to sign a new anti-terrorism act into law , and activists fear a further erosion of democratic norms .
Under the bill , a special body of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ authorities to arrest people it designates as “ terrorists ” without a judicial warrant .
Indonesia and the Philippines were cracking down on critics and the free press long before the pandemic .
Jakarta and Manila are now gradually reopening after weeks of lockdown , but their security-heavy strategies could produce lasting political repercussions .
“ Southeast Asian countries should tread carefully when it comes to vesting more power in their militaries , because some forms of militarization that occur during COVID-19 could prove hard to reverse after the pandemic ends , ” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , said .
It will be up to nonstate actors such as civil rights groups and journalists to call out the government or army on oppressive policies .
But that ’ s no easy feat : Indonesia and the Philippines were cracking down on critics and the free press long before the pandemic .
The international community must help by pressuring Jakarta and Manila to uphold democratic norms at times of crisis .
Without internal and external opposition , both countries may sink deeper into authoritarianism under the pretext of the coronavirus .

Some governments in Southeast Asia, slow to respond to the coronavirus pandemic, are now using their militaries to make up for initial inaction. Indonesia and the Philippines in particular have treated the coronavirus not as a public health matter but rather as a security issue—a development that could undermine democracy in a region with a history of autocratic rule.
Some governments in Southeast Asia, slow to respond to the coronavirus pandemic, are now using their militaries to make up for initial inaction. Indonesia and the Philippines in particular have treated the coronavirus not as a public health matter but rather as a security issue—a development that could undermine democracy in a region with a history of autocratic rule.
In both Jakarta and Manila, retired or senior army officers lead the governments’ COVID-19 task forces instead of health experts. The approach contrasts with those of other countries such as Singapore and Vietnam, which placed civilian leaders and health officials in leadership. Both countries were praised for extensive testing, policy coordination, and transparency, though they had mixed results: Vietnam hasn’t recorded a single COVID-19 death, while Singapore now has one of Asia’s highest infection rates. Meanwhile, Myanmar and Thailand also have army leaders in charge, but the military already significantly influences both administrations.
In Indonesia and the Philippines, allowing army officials to manage the crisis suggests that these governments see the coronavirus pandemic as an insurgency to quash—not a crisis that requires long-term health reforms. Civilian control of the military is a relatively recent dynamic in both countries. The militarized response to the pandemic could facilitate a long-term backslide toward authoritarianism.
In Indonesia, the new roles assigned to army brass risk upsetting delicate civil-military relations and increasing the army’s power. Meanwhile, Philippine President Rodrigo Duterte is accused of using the military to introduce more repressive policies. “There is always a risk that mobilizing the military will undermine democracy and the rule of law, and it is up to politicians, activists, and societies to guard against that,” said Prashanth Parameswaran, the director of the Bower Group Asia consultancy group and a fellow at the Wilson Center.
Failing to take preventative action, leaders turned to army officials for help in containing their outbreaks.
Leaders in Indonesia and the Philippines initially underestimated the pandemic’s severity. Failing to take preventative action, they turned to army officials for help in containing their outbreaks. Since March, the number of cases in each country has surged. After weeks of denying undetected infections, Indonesian President Joko Widodo reported the country’s first coronavirus case in early March. By mid-April, confirmed infections approached 6,000, and they now surpass 39,000. In the Philippines, the Department of Health dismissed the idea of mass testing in March, and by early April, it had reported over 3,000 infections. There are now more than 26,000 cases.
In Indonesia, the coronavirus fast-response team is led by active Army Lt. Gen. Doni Monardo, the head of the National Disaster Mitigation Agency. The unit is tasked with contact-tracing, surveillance, and border controls. Three of the six executive positions are held by senior generals including Doni, and only one of the six has a public health background. The military also operates COVID-19 emergency hospitals in Jakarta and on Galang Island. The army isn’t in charge of any civilian policy decision-making, but some experts warn that its high-profile presence on the task force could pave the way for a military resurgence in civilian affairs. The country endured a harsh dictatorship from 1967 to 1998 under former President Suharto, who formed a military-dominated government.
Indonesia’s president, better known as Jokowi, presented himself as a reformist when he came to power in 2014, but he has cultivated close ties with the military. In 2015, he gave the military a greater role in civil administration , and Jokowi’s current cabinet, selected after his reelection last year, has the highest concentration of military personnel in decades. Jokowi is also seeking to give the armed forces a formal counterterrorism role, as presented in a presidential decree last month. In February, the president was criticized for submitting a bill to parliament that would give him increased control over policymaking.
“It appears that the military is trying to claw back civilian power and Jokowi is either enabling them or not standing up to them,” said Zachary Abuza, a professor at the National War College in Washington, where he specializes in Southeast Asian security issues. If that’s the case, the democratic progress that elected civilian governments have achieved over the past two decades could be erased—bringing the country back to a state of military-backed authoritarianism.
A lack of health care reform is another threat to Indonesia. Southeast Asia’s largest economy is struggling with a shortage of trained medical staff and personal protective equipment. And Health Minister Terawan Agus Putranto is seen as anti-science, having suggested that the power of prayer will protect Indonesians from the coronavirus. The country needs leaders with expertise in epidemiology to address the structural issues in the national health care system, said Tangguh Chairil, a national security expert at Bina Nusantara University in Jakarta.
In the Philippines, Defense Secretary Delfin Lorenzana heads the coronavirus task force, flanked by presidential advisor Carlito Galvez Jr. and Interior Secretary Eduardo Año—all former military leaders. Government critics fear that Duterte could use the military’s role on the response team as an opportunity to declare martial law. “Are we now in a state of undeclared martial rule and a de facto junta is now running the country?” Carlos Zarate, a representative for the leftist party Bayan Muna, said in late March. In April, Duterte ordered police and military units to shoot protesters who breached quarantine rules. At least 120,000 people were arrested, according to the United Nations Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights. Philippine Armed Forces spokesperson Edgard Arevalo later said the military was working with police to enforce a “martial law-like lockdown” if needed.
Unlike in Indonesia, the Philippine Armed Forces aren’t seeking to increase their power, and they already enjoy a high degree of public trust. But the military’s record is bloody: It is known to brand critics of the state as communists or terrorists, making them targets of violence. “The [military] is still using red-tagging tactics against vocal left-leaning critics of the government,” said Michael Henry Yusingco, a senior research fellow at Ateneo de Manila University. The army maintains it would uphold human rights in a state of nationwide martial law. In the case of Mindanao island, where martial law was enforced for over two years due to terrorism threats, business largely continued as usual and media worked unhindered, Yusingco said. “But the same scenario might not happen in nationwide martial law,” he added.
If nationwide martial law is put into place, the military may be forced to carry out Duterte’s orders, which could include conflict with domestic terrorist groups, censorship, and assaults on the free press, Abuza said. Meanwhile, Duterte is soon expected to sign a new anti-terrorism act into law, and activists fear a further erosion of democratic norms. Under the bill, a special body of officials appointed by the president could order authorities to arrest people it designates as “terrorists” without a judicial warrant.
Indonesia and the Philippines were cracking down on critics and the free press long before the pandemic.
Jakarta and Manila are now gradually reopening after weeks of lockdown, but their security-heavy strategies could produce lasting political repercussions. “Southeast Asian countries should tread carefully when it comes to vesting more power in their militaries, because some forms of militarization that occur during COVID-19 could prove hard to reverse after the pandemic ends,” Parameswaran, of the Bower Group Asia, said.
It will be up to nonstate actors such as civil rights groups and journalists to call out the government or army on oppressive policies. But that’s no easy feat: Indonesia and the Philippines were cracking down on critics and the free press long before the pandemic. The international community must help by pressuring Jakarta and Manila to uphold democratic norms at times of crisis. Without internal and external opposition, both countries may sink deeper into authoritarianism under the pretext of the coronavirus.


foreignpolicy--2020-06-15--Veterans Fear Trump Will Use Military as Election Gambit

Veterans Fear Trump Will Use Military as Election Gambit Veterans groups are worried that President Donald Trump could inappropriately use the U.S. military on the campaign trail after the White House ’ s turbulent response to racial injustice protests that saw the Defense Department ’ s top military officer join a controversial photo-op , even after the Pentagon has tried to keep its distance from the response in recent weeks .
Gen. Mark Milley , the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff , earned plaudits last week by saying he regretted joining Trump ’ s walk across Lafayette Square @ @ @ @ @ @ @ from the area with pepper spray , just a week after George Floyd , a 46-year-old black man , was asphyxiated under the knee of a Minneapolis police officer , sparking international protests .
But Trump—who has frequently exaggerated U.S. military spending since he took office—has done little to quell fears that the military could be used as a political prop as he is set to resume campaign rallies this week in Tulsa , Oklahoma .
The president made no mention of the apolitical role of the military while giving a speech to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Military Academy at West Point in New York .
“ This story is not over yet .
We are going to go into a very contentious three to four months , ” said David Barno , a retired U.S. Army lieutenant general who commanded American and coalition forces in Afghanistan .
“ It would be useful for him at some point to make the point that the military is an apolitical institution .
It ’ s not an interest group that can be persuaded.
” Yet even as the number of National Guardsmen @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to just 7,000 troops on Monday—after a heated debate in the administration over whether Trump would invoke the 1807 Insurrection Act to send active-duty units to quell the demonstrations—the military still appeared entangled in the brewing campaign season .
In the hours after the West Point speech—which featured Stryker armored vehicles perched in the crowd near the socially distanced cadets—a campaign-style video quickly surfaced on the White House ’ s Twitter account , just as the handle had featured videos of the president ’ s now infamous walk to St. John ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ outside the church prompted rebukes from former Defense Secretary James Mattis and a host of retired military leaders , including former Joint Chiefs Chairman Adm. Mike Mullen .
But even after Milley apologized in a prerecorded speech at the National Defense University ’ s graduation last week , some veterans groups would like to see the U.S. military ’ s top officer go further with his regrets .
“ I would like to see an apology for the fact that he was walking around later that evening on the streets of D.C. , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Point graduate and director of government relations for VoteVets , a progressive political organization focused on veterans affairs .
“ They brought the 82nd Airborne Division to the outskirts of D.C. with bayonets .
There was no apology for that.
” The Trump administration has often sparred with local officials over plans for elaborate military parades that have been a White House fixation ever since the president attended Bastille Day ceremonies in Paris in July 2017 that featured tanks and fighter jets circling the parade route , and veterans are worried that active-duty @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a political photo-op this summer .
The administration is already working on plans for a July 3 military flyover at Mount Rushmore to mark the Independence Day holiday that could end up being fodder for viral campaign tweets , experts said .
“ The blending of the official White House accounts and the campaigns is complete , ” said Fred Wellman , a former spokesperson for Gens .
David Petraeus and Martin Dempsey and now CEO at ScoutComms .
“ They ’ re just not even trying anymore.
” Throughout the administration , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ blindsided by Trump broadsides on Twitter , including the administration ’ s policy banning transgender service members from the military .
Now , the active debate over renaming 10 U.S. Army bases named after Confederate generals , sparked by the Floyd protests , has deepened that schism .
“ The idea that the U.S. military has to watch the president ’ s Twitter feed for guidance changes should horrify anyone who ’ s served , ” Wellman added .
“ It ’ s ironic and extreme to have young men and women who @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , the United States , go and do their training at a base name for someone who took up arms against the United States for about the worst cause you could ever have for a rebellion , ” Sen. Angus King , a member of the Senate Armed Services Committee , told Foreign Policy in an interview .
“ Why not name a base for a Medal of Honor winner , rather than someone who attacked our country in the name of slavery ?
” But the Senate , which has tucked a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ annual authorizing bill that would force the Pentagon to rename the bases , may push back on the increasing efforts to politicize the U.S. military through nominating hearings .
In a surprise on Monday , Sen. Jack Reed , the Senate Armed Services Committee ’ s top Democrat , came out against Trump ’ s pick to be the Pentagon ’ s top policy official , Anthony Tata—who has stumped for the president on Fox News—over Islamophobic comments he made that have surfaced in the media .

Veterans groups are worried that President Donald Trump could inappropriately use the U.S. military on the campaign trail after the White House’s turbulent response to racial injustice protests that saw the Defense Department’s top military officer join a controversial photo-op, even after the Pentagon has tried to keep its distance from the response in recent weeks.
Veterans groups are worried that President Donald Trump could inappropriately use the U.S. military on the campaign trail after the White House’s turbulent response to racial injustice protests that saw the Defense Department’s top military officer join a controversial photo-op, even after the Pentagon has tried to keep its distance from the response in recent weeks.
Gen. Mark Milley, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, earned plaudits last week by saying he regretted joining Trump’s walk across Lafayette Square after federal law enforcement cleared peaceful demonstrators from the area with pepper spray, just a week after George Floyd, a 46-year-old black man, was asphyxiated under the knee of a Minneapolis police officer, sparking international protests.
But Trump—who has frequently exaggerated U.S. military spending since he took office—has done little to quell fears that the military could be used as a political prop as he is set to resume campaign rallies this week in Tulsa, Oklahoma. The president made no mention of the apolitical role of the military while giving a speech to graduating cadets on Saturday at the U.S. Military Academy at West Point in New York.
“This story is not over yet. We are going to go into a very contentious three to four months,” said David Barno, a retired U.S. Army lieutenant general who commanded American and coalition forces in Afghanistan. “It would be useful for him at some point to make the point that the military is an apolitical institution. It’s not an interest group that can be persuaded.”
Yet even as the number of National Guardsmen deployed to deal with nationwide protests fell to just 7,000 troops on Monday—after a heated debate in the administration over whether Trump would invoke the 1807 Insurrection Act to send active-duty units to quell the demonstrations—the military still appeared entangled in the brewing campaign season.
In the hours after the West Point speech—which featured Stryker armored vehicles perched in the crowd near the socially distanced cadets—a campaign-style video quickly surfaced on the White House’s Twitter account, just as the handle had featured videos of the president’s now infamous walk to St. John’s Church two weeks ago. The photo-op outside the church prompted rebukes from former Defense Secretary James Mattis and a host of retired military leaders, including former Joint Chiefs Chairman Adm. Mike Mullen.
But even after Milley apologized in a prerecorded speech at the National Defense University’s graduation last week, some veterans groups would like to see the U.S. military’s top officer go further with his regrets.
“I would like to see an apology for the fact that he was walking around later that evening on the streets of D.C.,” said Will Goodwin, a West Point graduate and director of government relations for VoteVets, a progressive political organization focused on veterans affairs. “They brought the 82nd Airborne Division to the outskirts of D.C. with bayonets. There was no apology for that.”
The Trump administration has often sparred with local officials over plans for elaborate military parades that have been a White House fixation ever since the president attended Bastille Day ceremonies in Paris in July 2017 that featured tanks and fighter jets circling the parade route, and veterans are worried that active-duty troops could once again get caught in a political photo-op this summer.
The administration is already working on plans for a July 3 military flyover at Mount Rushmore to mark the Independence Day holiday that could end up being fodder for viral campaign tweets, experts said.
“The blending of the official White House accounts and the campaigns is complete,” said Fred Wellman, a former spokesperson for Gens. David Petraeus and Martin Dempsey and now CEO at ScoutComms. “They’re just not even trying anymore.”
Throughout the administration, the Pentagon has become accustomed to getting blindsided by Trump broadsides on Twitter, including the administration’s policy banning transgender service members from the military. Now, the active debate over renaming 10 U.S. Army bases named after Confederate generals, sparked by the Floyd protests, has deepened that schism. “The idea that the U.S. military has to watch the president’s Twitter feed for guidance changes should horrify anyone who’s served,” Wellman added.
“It’s ironic and extreme to have young men and women who take an oath to support the Constitution, the United States, go and do their training at a base name for someone who took up arms against the United States for about the worst cause you could ever have for a rebellion,” Sen. Angus King, a member of the Senate Armed Services Committee, told Foreign Policy in an interview. “Why not name a base for a Medal of Honor winner, rather than someone who attacked our country in the name of slavery?”
But the Senate, which has tucked a provision into the Defense Department’s annual authorizing bill that would force the Pentagon to rename the bases, may push back on the increasing efforts to politicize the U.S. military through nominating hearings. In a surprise on Monday, Sen. Jack Reed, the Senate Armed Services Committee’s top Democrat, came out against Trump’s pick to be the Pentagon’s top policy official, Anthony Tata—who has stumped for the president on Fox News—over Islamophobic comments he made that have surfaced in the media.


foreignpolicy--2020-06-15--Family of American Jailed in Russia Vows to Keep Fighting

Family of American Jailed in Russia Vows to Keep Fighting For the past 18 months , David Whelan and his family have been waging a battle to free his brother , Paul Whelan , from a Russian prison on what the U.S. government has characterized as falsified and trumped-up charges of espionage .
On Monday , a Moscow court sentenced Paul to 16 years in prison following a closed-door trial shrouded in secrecy by Russian authorities .
Whelan ’ s family sees the ruling not as an end to the battle , but rather the beginning of a new chapter @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , as they believe the Trump administration will now get involved in negotiations with Russia to secure his release .
“ We won ’ t quit fighting until he ’ s home , ” David Whelan told Foreign Policy in an interview .
The Russian government has long fended off attempts by the U.S. government to negotiate Whelan ’ s release from prison until after his trial and sentencing .
But Russian officials have proposed negotiating Whelan ’ s release through a prisoner swap , prompting former U.S. officials to theorize he is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for Moscow to gain diplomatic leverage over Washington .
Whelan himself believed he was detained in retaliation for U.S. sanctions on Russia , according to letters he sent to his family from prison through his legal team that were shared with Foreign Policy .
He has consistently maintained his innocence since his arrest .
“ This is slimy , greasy , grubby Russian politics .
Nothing more .
Nothing less , ” Whelan reportedly said before his sentencing on Monday .
His brother called the ruling a “ gut punch , ” but @ @ @ @ @ @ @ obstacle to U.S. and Russian diplomatic talks on Whelan ’ s case .
“ We are expecting that the U.S. government will now engage with the Russian Federation , who will hopefully no longer put off discussions about how to facilitate Paul ’ s release , ” he said .
Whelan ’ s case has heightened already strained relations between the United States and Russia in recent years following Moscow ’ s illegal annexation of Crimea and subsequent war in Ukraine , as well as its interference in the 2016 U.S. elections .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ Washington was “ outraged ” by Whelan ’ s sentencing in a statement on Monday , calling his treatment by Russian authorities “ appalling.
” It also sheds light on the difficulties Americans detained abroad face , often leaving their family at home scrambling to organize a campaign to secure their release in coordination with the State Department and members of Congress .
Whelan ’ s family has been forced to navigate the confusing power corridors of Washington as well as the arcane bureaucracy of Russia ’ s notorious prison systems to raise @ @ @ @ @ @ @ maintain lines of communications with him while he is in prison .
David Whelan praised the U.S. Embassy in Russia for its support , including prison visits from the U.S. ambassador and other officers .
“ It ’ s been meaningful to both us and Paul to know he has that sort of support , ” he said .
The U.S. government has accused Russian authorities of violating international human rights by depriving Paul Whelan of due process , a fair trial , regular communications with his family and the outside world , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Whelan had a surgery for a hernia last month following months of ailing health .
U.S .
Ambassador to Russia John Sullivan said Russian authorities blocked the embassy from sending masks and gloves to Whelan in prison to protect himself against the spread of coronavirus .
Sullivan on Monday called Whelan ’ s case and sentencing a “ mockery of justice.
” Whelan , a 50-year-old former U.S. Marine from Michigan , also holds British , Canadian , and Irish citizenship .
After his arrest in December 2018 , his lawyers argued he @ @ @ @ @ @ @ sting operation by Russian security services .
While visiting Russia for a friend ’ s wedding , Whelan was handed a USB flash drive from a Russian acquaintance that was supposed to contain travel photos , his lawyers said .
When Russian authorities arrested him , they said the flash drive contained classified information .
Vladimir Zherebenkov , Whelan ’ s lawyer , said Russian officials have already indicated they would be open to discussing a potential prisoner swap with two Russian detained in the United States : Viktor Bout , a Russian @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to sell weapons to Colombian drug cartels , and Konstantin Yaroshenko , a Russian pilot arrested in 2010 on cocaine-smuggling charges .
Russian officials have characterized both Bout ’ s and Yaroshenko ’ s arrests as politically motivated .
But Kremlin spokesman Dmitry Peskov dismissed allegations that Whelan ’ s arrest involved political meddling .
The State Department did not respond to a request for comment on the next steps in pushing for Whelan ’ s release .
In the meantime , David Whelan urged his brother to “ stay strong.
” “ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ stretch , and we may not know we are there until he is on a plane coming home , ” he told Foreign Policy .
“ We must all just continue to fight and do what we can to survive this ordeal .
”

For the past 18 months, David Whelan and his family have been waging a battle to free his brother, Paul Whelan, from a Russian prison on what the U.S. government has characterized as falsified and trumped-up charges of espionage.
For the past 18 months, David Whelan and his family have been waging a battle to free his brother, Paul Whelan, from a Russian prison on what the U.S. government has characterized as falsified and trumped-up charges of espionage.
On Monday, a Moscow court sentenced Paul to 16 years in prison following a closed-door trial shrouded in secrecy by Russian authorities.
Whelan’s family sees the ruling not as an end to the battle, but rather the beginning of a new chapter in the push to secure his freedom, as they believe the Trump administration will now get involved in negotiations with Russia to secure his release. “We won’t quit fighting until he’s home,” David Whelan told Foreign Policy in an interview.
The Russian government has long fended off attempts by the U.S. government to negotiate Whelan’s release from prison until after his trial and sentencing. But Russian officials have proposed negotiating Whelan’s release through a prisoner swap, prompting former U.S. officials to theorize he is a pawn in a larger political game for Moscow to gain diplomatic leverage over Washington. Whelan himself believed he was detained in retaliation for U.S. sanctions on Russia, according to letters he sent to his family from prison through his legal team that were shared with Foreign Policy.
He has consistently maintained his innocence since his arrest. “This is slimy, greasy, grubby Russian politics. Nothing more. Nothing less,” Whelan reportedly said before his sentencing on Monday.
His brother called the ruling a “gut punch,” but he said it removed the final major obstacle to U.S. and Russian diplomatic talks on Whelan’s case. “We are expecting that the U.S. government will now engage with the Russian Federation, who will hopefully no longer put off discussions about how to facilitate Paul’s release,” he said.
Whelan’s case has heightened already strained relations between the United States and Russia in recent years following Moscow’s illegal annexation of Crimea and subsequent war in Ukraine, as well as its interference in the 2016 U.S. elections. U.S. Secretary of State Mike Pompeo said Washington was “outraged” by Whelan’s sentencing in a statement on Monday, calling his treatment by Russian authorities “appalling.”
It also sheds light on the difficulties Americans detained abroad face, often leaving their family at home scrambling to organize a campaign to secure their release in coordination with the State Department and members of Congress. Whelan’s family has been forced to navigate the confusing power corridors of Washington as well as the arcane bureaucracy of Russia’s notorious prison systems to raise awareness for his case and try to maintain lines of communications with him while he is in prison.
David Whelan praised the U.S. Embassy in Russia for its support, including prison visits from the U.S. ambassador and other officers. “It’s been meaningful to both us and Paul to know he has that sort of support,” he said.
The U.S. government has accused Russian authorities of violating international human rights by depriving Paul Whelan of due process, a fair trial, regular communications with his family and the outside world, and access to proper medical care; Whelan had a surgery for a hernia last month following months of ailing health. U.S. Ambassador to Russia John Sullivan said Russian authorities blocked the embassy from sending masks and gloves to Whelan in prison to protect himself against the spread of coronavirus.
Sullivan on Monday called Whelan’s case and sentencing a “mockery of justice.”
Whelan, a 50-year-old former U.S. Marine from Michigan, also holds British, Canadian, and Irish citizenship. After his arrest in December 2018, his lawyers argued he was unfairly detained as part of a sting operation by Russian security services. While visiting Russia for a friend’s wedding, Whelan was handed a USB flash drive from a Russian acquaintance that was supposed to contain travel photos, his lawyers said. When Russian authorities arrested him, they said the flash drive contained classified information.
Vladimir Zherebenkov, Whelan’s lawyer, said Russian officials have already indicated they would be open to discussing a potential prisoner swap with two Russian detained in the United States: Viktor Bout, a Russian arms dealer convicted in 2011 of conspiring to sell weapons to Colombian drug cartels, and Konstantin Yaroshenko, a Russian pilot arrested in 2010 on cocaine-smuggling charges.
Russian officials have characterized both Bout’s and Yaroshenko’s arrests as politically motivated. But Kremlin spokesman Dmitry Peskov dismissed allegations that Whelan’s arrest involved political meddling.
The State Department did not respond to a request for comment on the next steps in pushing for Whelan’s release.
In the meantime, David Whelan urged his brother to “stay strong.”
“We are not yet in the home stretch, and we may not know we are there until he is on a plane coming home,” he told Foreign Policy. “We must all just continue to fight and do what we can to survive this ordeal.”


foreignpolicy--2020-06-15--Defund the Police, Then Defund the Military

Defund the Police , Then Defund the Military Following the brutal police killing of George Floyd in Minneapolis last month , activists and protesters are calling on the government to “ defund the police.
” The Minneapolis City Council has declared its intention to do exactly that .
But national Democratic pundits and elected officials have been wary of adopting the idea .
The presumptive Democratic presidential nominee Joe Biden has opposed defunding police ; so has his erstwhile primary opponent , socialist Sen. Bernie Sanders .
But throttling cash flows to harmful institutions isn ’ t a new idea @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
For decades , Democrats and the left called for the defunding of the military in much the same terms as protesters and activists are calling for the defunding of the police .
“ Defund the military ” has , it ’ s true , largely been abandoned as a high-profile strategy by both mainstream Democrats and the anti-war left .
But it ’ s a useful precedent for thinking about what defunding the police means and the benefits it can bring .
In turn , slashing the budgets of militarized police forces @ @ @ @ @ @ @ budget of a military that had ambitions to be a global police officer .
In the 1960s and ’ 70s , the Women ’ s International League for Peace and Freedom , a venerable anti-war organization , printed a famously popular bumper sticker declaring “ It will be a great day when our schools get all the money they need and the Air Force has to hold a bake sale to buy a bomber.
” As with “ defund the police , ” this is not just a slogan—it ’ s a political @ @ @ @ @ @ @ organization was pointing out that prioritizing the military and war means deprioritizing the resources that make peace possible , like education .
In the same vein , Black Lives Matter and the American Civil Liberties Union have called to defund the police in order to redirect money to mental health services and investments in black communities—like , for example , schools .
Police officers themselves have pointed out how they ’ ve become a service of last resort , struggling to deal with the fallout of austerity elsewhere .
In 2017 , for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ percent of its budget on police , and Minneapolis spent more than 35 percent .
The New York City post-coronavirus budget for fiscal year 2021 includes $ 2 billion in cuts across education , housing , health , and other services , while the police ’ s $ 6 billion budget is being slashed by only 0.3 percent .
Meanwhile , then-Mayor Rahm Emanuel in Chicago shuttered six city-run mental health clinics in 2012 , contributing to long wait times for services that continue today .
As with other closures , that has @ @ @ @ @ @ @ crisis providers , a job they ’ re poorly trained for .
People with severe mental illness are involved in 25 to 50 percent of fatal encounters with law enforcement , even though they make up only about 3 percent of the population .
For Democrats , constraining military budgets in order to invest in social services was once a mainstream position , not a fringe one .
While the Democrats were on the whole the party that supported large military budgets in the 1950s , that changed in the ’ 60s .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ danger of military funding and military priorities : “ If I left the woman I really loved—the Great Society—in order to get involved with that bitch of a war on the other side of the world , then I would lose everything at home .
All my programs .
All my hopes to feed the hungry and shelter the homeless.
” Johnson ultimately chose the war anyway , blighting his hopes for social transformation and his political prospects .
But , in part in reaction to that disaster , at least some Democrats @ @ @ @ @ @ @ called for major cuts in defense spending and tried to restrain military budgets .
California Sen. Alan Cranston warned that “ we have to make sure we ’ re only investing in military matters what is really needed.
” In 1990 , Georgia Sen. Sam Nunn proposed $ 255 billion in defense cuts over a five-year period .
Colorado Rep. Pat Schroeder repeatedly worked for military cuts , trying to defund President Ronald Reagan ’ s priorities such as the MX mobile weapons system and the B-1 bomber .
These Democrats were hardly @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that he didn ’ t want to cut too much too quickly .
In one of her attacks on the Pentagon , Schroeder compared defense contractors to “ welfare queens , ” implicitly accepting the racist Reagan-era demonization of the poor .
But the fact that Nunn and Schroeder were not leftists is the point .
Taking money away from violent institutions in order to invest in nonviolent solutions has plenty of precedent , because it ’ s rooted in common sense .
Democratic leaders like Biden could embrace that precedent , rather @ @ @ @ @ @ @ police departments that have already seen their budgets bloat by 445 percent between 1982 and 2007 .
In turn , “ defund the police ” could serve to reinvigorate an anti-war program that has had trouble gaining traction in the United States in the last few years .
Democrats have largely abandoned even token efforts to rein in defense budgets .
The anti-war left pushed hard for Sanders and his anti-war platform .
But after his defeat , it will need an approach other than presidential politics , at least for the near @ @ @ @ @ @ @ approaches should be “ defund the military.
” Activists have long criticized the Section 1033 provision of the 1997 National Defense Authorization Act , which allows the transfer of tactical military equipment to police departments , so that police can confront protesters and civilians with terrifying Mine-Resistant Ambush-Protected vehicles and heavily armed SWAT teams .
Hawaii Sen. Brian Schatz has proposed ending Section 1033 .
But this could also be a moment to ask why the military is so glutted with surplus equipment in the first place .
One way to prevent the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ U.S. streets would be to stop pouring money into the military in the first place .
A leaner military would force U.S. leaders to think more clearly and carefully about the use of force and its economic as well as its moral and reputational costs .
The military also directly benefits from , and relies on , domestic disinvestment and poverty .
The armed services focus recruitment efforts on lower-middle-class and poor households ; as of 2004 , almost two-thirds of recruits in the U.S. Army came from counties in which median household @ @ @ @ @ @ @ The army remains one of the few ways in the United States for the working class to get universal health care and a free college education .
Governments skimp on social services and education spending in poor and minority communities .
They spend lavishly on police who stop and harass black people in those neighborhoods with terrifying frequency .
And then the well-funded military sets up recruiting stations in poor neighborhoods to fill its ranks , as kids with few other options sign up to go shoot others and be shot at in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ foreign wars .
The United States spends about $ 115 billion on policing a year , more than any other country ’ s military budget save China ’ s .
It spends $ 732 billion on the military , which is more than the next 10 highest-spending countries combined .
Economic choices are moral choices .
Activists and protesters calling to defund the police are trying to remind the United States that funneling money to people with guns and tanks is a choice , not an inevitability .
Mainstream critics of U.S. defense @ @ @ @ @ @ @ take up the call again .
Defund the police .
Defund the military .
Fund peace , equality , and hope .

Following the brutal police killing of George Floyd in Minneapolis last month, activists and protesters are calling on the government to “defund the police.” The Minneapolis City Council has declared its intention to do exactly that . But national Democratic pundits and elected officials have been wary of adopting the idea. The presumptive Democratic presidential nominee Joe Biden has opposed defunding police; so has his erstwhile primary opponent, socialist Sen. Bernie Sanders .
Following the brutal police killing of George Floyd in Minneapolis last month, activists and protesters are calling on the government to “defund the police.” The Minneapolis City Council has declared its intention to do exactly that. But national Democratic pundits and elected officials have been wary of adopting the idea. The presumptive Democratic presidential nominee Joe Biden has opposed defunding police; so has his erstwhile primary opponent, socialist Sen. Bernie Sanders.
But throttling cash flows to harmful institutions isn’t a new idea on the left, or for Democrats. For decades, Democrats and the left called for the defunding of the military in much the same terms as protesters and activists are calling for the defunding of the police. “Defund the military” has, it’s true, largely been abandoned as a high-profile strategy by both mainstream Democrats and the anti-war left. But it’s a useful precedent for thinking about what defunding the police means and the benefits it can bring. In turn, slashing the budgets of militarized police forces could reinvigorate calls to cut the bloated budget of a military that had ambitions to be a global police officer.
In the 1960s and ’70s, the Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom, a venerable anti-war organization, printed a famously popular bumper sticker declaring “It will be a great day when our schools get all the money they need and the Air Force has to hold a bake sale to buy a bomber.” As with “defund the police,” this is not just a slogan—it’s a political philosophy and a political argument.
The organization was pointing out that prioritizing the military and war means deprioritizing the resources that make peace possible, like education. In the same vein, Black Lives Matter and the American Civil Liberties Union have called to defund the police in order to redirect money to mental health services and investments in black communities—like, for example, schools. Police officers themselves have pointed out how they’ve become a service of last resort, struggling to deal with the fallout of austerity elsewhere. In 2017, for example, Chicago spent more than 38 percent of its budget on police, and Minneapolis spent more than 35 percent. The New York City post-coronavirus budget for fiscal year 2021 includes $2 billion in cuts across education, housing, health, and other services, while the police’s $6 billion budget is being slashed by only 0.3 percent.
Meanwhile, then-Mayor Rahm Emanuel in Chicago shuttered six city-run mental health clinics in 2012, contributing to long wait times for services that continue today. As with other closures, that has left police as de facto mental health crisis providers, a job they’re poorly trained for. People with severe mental illness are involved in 25 to 50 percent of fatal encounters with law enforcement, even though they make up only about 3 percent of the population.
For Democrats, constraining military budgets in order to invest in social services was once a mainstream position, not a fringe one. While the Democrats were on the whole the party that supported large military budgets in the 1950s, that changed in the ’60s. President Lyndon B. Johnson clearly articulated the danger of military funding and military priorities: “If I left the woman I really loved—the Great Society—in order to get involved with that bitch of a war on the other side of the world, then I would lose everything at home. All my programs. All my hopes to feed the hungry and shelter the homeless.”
Johnson ultimately chose the war anyway, blighting his hopes for social transformation and his political prospects. But, in part in reaction to that disaster, at least some Democrats in the ’70s and ’80s called for major cuts in defense spending and tried to restrain military budgets. California Sen. Alan Cranston warned that “we have to make sure we’re only investing in military matters what is really needed.” In 1990, Georgia Sen. Sam Nunn proposed $255 billion in defense cuts over a five-year period. Colorado Rep. Pat Schroeder repeatedly worked for military cuts, trying to defund President Ronald Reagan’s priorities such as the MX mobile weapons system and the B-1 bomber.
These Democrats were hardly radicals. Nunn was careful to warn that he didn’t want to cut too much too quickly. In one of her attacks on the Pentagon, Schroeder compared defense contractors to “welfare queens,” implicitly accepting the racist Reagan-era demonization of the poor. But the fact that Nunn and Schroeder were not leftists is the point. Taking money away from violent institutions in order to invest in nonviolent solutions has plenty of precedent, because it’s rooted in common sense. Democratic leaders like Biden could embrace that precedent, rather than proposing another $300 million for police departments that have already seen their budgets bloat by 445 percent between 1982 and 2007.
In turn, “defund the police” could serve to reinvigorate an anti-war program that has had trouble gaining traction in the United States in the last few years. Democrats have largely abandoned even token efforts to rein in defense budgets. The anti-war left pushed hard for Sanders and his anti-war platform. But after his defeat, it will need an approach other than presidential politics, at least for the near term.
At least one of those approaches should be “defund the military.” Activists have long criticized the Section 1033 provision of the 1997 National Defense Authorization Act, which allows the transfer of tactical military equipment to police departments, so that police can confront protesters and civilians with terrifying Mine-Resistant Ambush-Protected vehicles and heavily armed SWAT teams. Hawaii Sen. Brian Schatz has proposed ending Section 1033.
But this could also be a moment to ask why the military is so glutted with surplus equipment in the first place. One way to prevent the military from belching tanks and ammunition onto U.S. streets would be to stop pouring money into the military in the first place. A leaner military would force U.S. leaders to think more clearly and carefully about the use of force and its economic as well as its moral and reputational costs.
The military also directly benefits from, and relies on, domestic disinvestment and poverty. The armed services focus recruitment efforts on lower-middle-class and poor households; as of 2004, almost two-thirds of recruits in the U.S. Army came from counties in which median household income was below the countrywide median. The army remains one of the few ways in the United States for the working class to get universal health care and a free college education. Governments skimp on social services and education spending in poor and minority communities. They spend lavishly on police who stop and harass black people in those neighborhoods with terrifying frequency. And then the well-funded military sets up recruiting stations in poor neighborhoods to fill its ranks, as kids with few other options sign up to go shoot others and be shot at in turn in the United States’ endless foreign wars.
The United States spends about $115 billion on policing a year, more than any other country’s military budget save China’s. It spends $732 billion on the military, which is more than the next 10 highest-spending countries combined. Economic choices are moral choices. Activists and protesters calling to defund the police are trying to remind the United States that funneling money to people with guns and tanks is a choice, not an inevitability. Mainstream critics of U.S. defense spending once understood that. They should take up the call again. Defund the police. Defund the military. Fund peace, equality, and hope.