With the U.S.-Israeli war on the Islamic Republic of Iran entering its eighth week, and a U.S. blockade of the Strait of Hormuz aimed at starving Iran of its oil income now entering its third, the logic of economic strangulation has once again moved to the center of American foreign policy. Of course, some would say it never left—particularly those in the Republic of Cuba, which has been the target of that policy not for weeks or months, but for more than sixty years. In Cuba, that logic has long since ceased to appear as a discrete policy decision, but has become a condition of life.

Last month, the island’s electrical grid collapsed again: another in a series of nationwide blackouts that have left millions without power, with the ongoing U.S. oil blockade—which intensified after January’s kidnapping of Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro, whose administration had been supplying Cuba with oil—having cut off shipments to the island for extended periods. With Cuba faces a worsening humanitarian crisis resulting from the restricted fuel access, high-level talks in Havana between the U.S. and Cuba began earlier this month, though both sides have disputed what was said behind closed doors. U.S. officials have signaled that the island’s leadership faces a narrowing window to implement reforms, with some reports suggesting a two-week timeline tied to the release of political prisoners—claims Cuban officials have denied even as they acknowledge the meetings. Washington maintains that a diplomatic resolution remains possible under the Trump Administration, but the substance of those discussions suggests that material pressure is being leveraged to extract political concessions.

Then, just last night, a U.S. Senate vote legitimized growing concern in Washington that U.S. policy toward Cuba may be drifting toward open conflict. Lawmakers blocked debate on a War Powers resolution that would have required congressional authorization for any military action against the island, even as some members argued that the ongoing U.S. energy blockade already constitutes a form of “hostilities.” The measure’s sponsors warned that the Trump Administration is effectively pursuing regime change, citing escalating rhetoric and reports that military options are under consideration.

While some officials and analysts suggest that negotiations between Washington and Havana could still produce a diplomatic breakthrough, others argue that current U.S. policy is less about negotiation than coercion—using economic and energy pressure to force political transformation. But the congressional failure to produce a War Powers resolution suggests that, if deteriorating living conditions to demands for political reform, then U.S. policy will shift toward explicit regime change—realizing U.S. President Donald Trump’s prediction last month that he will have “the honor of taking Cuba.”

With fuel restrictions collapsing the island’s economy and amplifying the empire’s leverage at the negotiating table, then the blackouts begin to read not as unintended consequences, but as instruments—conditions through which political concessions, and ultimately regime change, are meant to be compelled. Cuba’s energy system depends on imported fuel to run its aging thermal power plants, and without oil, the plants shut down. When the plants shut down, the grid collapses, and everything else follows: food spoils without refrigeration, hospital patients die in blackouts, and water utilities stop functioning. Scarcity compounds across sectors, turning a supply problem into a systemic one.

But to fully understand the blackouts, the empty shelves, and the grinding scarcity that defines daily life in Cuba today, we have to return to the origin of the policy that still structures that reality more than sixty years later. Because President Trump’s oil blockade represents only the latest turn of the screw in the country’s decades-long embargo against its former economic colony.

In 1959, following the Cuban Revolution, the new government moved to nationalize major industries—many of them owned by American firms. Washington responded not with a single decisive break, but with a series of tightening economic measures. By 1960, the Eisenhower Administration had imposed partial trade restrictions, cutting off key exports and restricting most commerce between the two countries.

The decisive turn came in February 1962, when John F. Kennedy formalized a near-total embargo on trade with Cuba—effectively severing the island from its largest historical trading partner. Of course, the U.S. escalation unfolded not only through economic policy, but through covert military action: in 1961, the U.S. backed the failed Bay of Pigs Invasion, an attempt to overthrow the Cuban government by force that ended in rapid defeat and lasting hostility. In March of following year, Pentagon officials drafted Operation Northwoods, a now-declassified proposal for a false-flag operation that would result in the deaths of U.S. citizens to justify military intervention—plans that were never approved, but which reveal the extent to which confrontation with Cuba had moved beyond diplomacy into the realm of contingency for direct conflict.

Such a confrontation became even riskier when, just seven months after that proposal, the world came within reach of direct superpower conflict during the Cuban Missile Crisis following the discovery of Soviet nuclear missiles stationed on the island. The crisis ended with their removal, but it did not normalize relations. Instead, it entrenched Cuba’s position as a permanent security concern in Washington’s strategic thinking. The embargo, already in place, took on a new function—not merely as retaliation for nationalization or ideological opposition, but as part of a long-term containment posture.

Taken together, these episodes underscore that the embargo did not emerge in isolation, but as one instrument within a broader strategy of pressure, destabilization, and attempted regime change conceived during the Cold War. Even after the collapse of the Soviet Union, the long-term strategy persisted: to isolate the Cuban economy and force political change. Over the subsequent decades, the embargo was not merely maintained—it was codified, expanded, and internationalized. Laws like the Cuban Democracy Act of 1992 and the Helms–Burton Act of 1996 extended its reach beyond U.S. borders, penalizing foreign companies that attempted to do business with Cuba. The result was not just a restriction on trade with the U.S., but a constraint on the island’s access to global markets, finance, and supply chains.

In the absence of stable access to global markets, Cuba has not remained entirely cut off. Still, what has emerged in place of normal economic exchange is not recovery, but improvisation: in March, an international coalition of activists delivered humanitarian aid to the island by sea and air, attempting to circumvent restrictions that have choked off conventional supply lines. Organized by the Nuestra America Convoy, the shipment—totaling roughly 20 tons of food, medicine, and basic equipment—represented a show of global solidarity. But it also revealed the scale of the gap it seeks to fill. In a country of more than eleven million people, such deliveries cannot meaningfully stabilize food systems, restore electrical capacity, or sustain medical infrastructure. They exist not as alternatives to normal trade, but as evidence that normal trade has been disrupted.

Meanwhile, Russia has signaled that it will continue—and potentially expand—fuel shipments to Cuba, positioning itself as a key backstop to the island’s energy crisis. Following talks in Havana, Russian Deputy Foreign Minister Sergey Ryabkov emphasized that Moscow would not scale back its support, framing additional oil deliveries as part of a broader effort to offset the effects of U.S. sanctions and chronic energy shortages. A March shipment of roughly 730,000 barrels of oil—enough to cover only a few weeks of demand—underscored both the scale of Cuba’s dependence on external fuel and the insufficiency of ad hoc relief. While U.S. officials have allowed limited deliveries under temporary exemptions, Washington has otherwise maintained pressure on the island’s energy supply, even as Russia signals its intent to deepen its strategic presence in the region rather than withdraw from it.

What emerges, taken together, is not a picture of isolation overcome, but of isolation managed at the margins. Fuel arrives, but not reliably. Aid arrives, but not at scale. Each workaround addresses a symptom, while leaving the underlying constraint intact. The embargo bends, but it does not break; and so the blackouts continue.

At a certain point, the question is no longer how the embargo works, but why it persists. Because the conditions now defining life in Cuba aren’t the product of a single decision, or even a single administration, but the accumulated result of a policy that has been maintained, adjusted, and reimposed across decades, long after the geopolitical moment that gave rise to it has passed. Accordingly, its persistence suggests that what we are seeing in Cuba is not a deviation from the policy’s purpose, but its most complete expression.

With that in mind, what we are now witnessing in real time in the Strait of Hormuz represents in some senses an accelerated example of the same strategy as the U.S. embargo of Cuba: after a failed military campaign with the Bay of Pigs Invasion, the empire restricted its hostilities to the economic sphere—just as its campaign against the Islamic Republic seems now doomed by the rapid depletion of U.S. military stockpiles. But Cuba doesn’t have the same oil reserves with which to sustain its industries in economic isolation. Instead, pressure accumulates under the embargo that, once sufficiently concentrated, demands release.

However, that release does not have to take the form of negotiation over intervention. If the rhetoric now emerging from Washington gives us any indication, Cuba may soon find itself once again the target of a military strike—perhaps one that the U.S. will justify as a humanitarian relief and liberation of an oppressed people (as it did when it first launched its war on Iran) of the very conditions it imposed—pointing toward a trajectory in which economic strangulation is not an endpoint, but a preparatory stage: a system designed to weaken, isolate, and destabilize over time, until the conditions become ripe enough for military action.

What Cuba reveals, then, is not only what the embargo is, or how it works, but what it becomes over time: not a temporary measure of pressure, but a durable system—one that outlasts the conflicts that produced it, reshapes the conditions it acts upon, and, in doing so, generates its own rationale for continuation. In that sense, the line between economic coercion and military intervention is not fixed, but a fluid continuum along which pressure is applied, accumulated, and, when deemed ample enough, converted into force. If that pattern holds, then the question is no longer whether the U.S. intends to escalate, but when it will decide that the conditions its embargo produced have become sufficient to justify doing so: when, that is, that the Cuban people have suffered enough that the U.S. can pose as their savior.

If that moment arrives, it will not mark a departure from policy, but its culmination. The embargo will have prepared the ground. In the end, what may appear as intervention on behalf of the Cuban people will instead reveal itself as the sole aim of the same strategy that made such an intervention seem justified in the first place.

Three weeks ago, rumors began circulating that Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu had been killed in his country’s escalating war with the Islamic Republic of Iran after his early-March video address appeared to show him with six fingers on his right hand. Various “proof-of-life” videos followed purporting to show him alive, but gave us a further cascade of alleged anomalies: coffee foam that remains unchanged after he takes a sip; a jacket pocket that snaps back too cleanly; a wedding ring that flickers in and out of existence; an extra ear canal; a stuttering shirt sleeve. Meanwhile, claims about the provenance of footage for the Jerusalem café setting and for the cabinet meeting offer some potential origin of source material with which AI might have generated some of the above videos.

(Perhaps to his own surprise, Netanyahu’s son, Yair, provided additional fuel for these speculations when, on 8 March, he abruptly stopped posting on X for a period of seven days: unusual behavior for a user with more than one hundred thousand posts since starting his account in June 2017, and a period of inactivity matching the Jewish mourning tradition of sitting shiva.)

While internet sleuths offer compelling observations, these might yet remain artifacts of compression, motion blur, camera settings, or simple misperception. Even the invocation of AI detection tools—reporting high “likelihood” scores—offers little firm ground, given their well-documented instability and susceptibility to false positives, as when one reportedly flagged the Gettysburg Address as AI-generated. Our own opinion, then, remains only a posture: agnostic, provisional, and contingent on the emergence of verifiable, high-fidelity evidence that has not yet materialized.

However, the question of whether Netanyahu died represents not just a factual inquiry, but a case study in epistemic collapse. Viewers dissect frames for anomalies while counterarguments invoke compression artifacts, camera limitations, and the human tendency to over-interpret ambiguous visuals. Each attempt at proof generates a corresponding wave of skepticism, and each attempt at debunking feeds the cycle further. The result is not consensus but fragmentation, with even relatively sophisticated observers arriving at an agnostic position: that the available evidence, whether authentic or artificial, no longer carries sufficient authority to settle the question. In this telling, the most significant development is not the status of the man himself, but the apparent erosion of any shared standard by which such a status could be conclusively determined.

Understanding that, the risks exposed by this episode extend well beyond Netanyahu and into the structural stability of the media ecosystem itself. In the near term, the proliferation of plausible synthetic media accelerates the erosion of public trust—any more of which the U.S. certainly can’t afford—particularly when authoritative confirmation is delayed, fragmented, or perceived as unreliable.

Over the longer horizon, the implications grow more severe: as we’ve been warned since 2018—and particularly during the 2020 and ’24 presidential election cycles—electoral systems have become increasingly vulnerable to deepfakes and coordinated misinformation campaigns (besides those embodied in political campaigns themselves, that is), while the unchecked expansion of AI infrastructure introduces parallel governance challenges, from environmental strain driven by data center resource consumption to the absence of clear regulatory boundaries. What emerges is not a single point of failure, but a layered vulnerability—informational, political, and material—whose effects compound over time.

Interestingly, these increasing vulnerabilities to the political sphere from AI-generated content come paired with recent pushes to integrate AI more directly into governance. In January 2025, U.S. President Donald Trump launched a sweeping restructuring of the federal government through a series of executive orders aimed at reversing prior policies, freezing hiring, mandating a return to in-person work for federal employees, withdrawing from international agreements, and initiating workforce reductions under the so-called Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE), an advisory board instead of an official U.S. government department established by Congress.

Central to this effort was the accelerated adoption of AI-driven “algorithmic governance,” promising increased efficiency but also raising profound concerns: as government functions become dependent on data systems and private-sector infrastructure, power shifts toward tech firms, institutional capacity within the state erodes, and decision-making risks being automated beyond meaningful oversight. Early examples—such as algorithmic tools overriding medical judgments—suggested both practical harms and systemic vulnerabilities, while the broader trajectory points toward a deepening fusion of state and corporate power (i.e., fascism), potential displacement of large portions of the federal workforce, and even speculative futures in which digitally governed “network states” challenge traditional democracy. In this light, the transition is less a technical upgrade than a structural transformation toward technocracy—also apparent in other initiatives of the second Trump Administration, as we outlined in a bulletin last year—with long-term implications for accountability, sovereignty, and democratic governance.

Moreover, such a transition to algorithmic governance may only introduce further dimensions of dishonesty into modern political life. Terrence J. Sejnowski’s “Large Language Models and the Reverse Turing Test” (2023) aargues that modern large language models (LLMs) represent a major advance in generating human-like text—but also expose a critical weakness: their inherent tendency to produce false or misleading information with confidence. Because they rely on statistical pattern prediction rather than grounded knowledge, they can fabricate facts or reasoning without detecting errors. Rather than possessing true understanding, LLMs operate by predicting likely word sequences based on statistical patterns in their training data. This means they can generate outputs that are fluent, coherent, and persuasive even when they are factually incorrect—a phenomenon often described as “hallucination.”

Drawing on parallels to neuroscience, Sejnowski emphasizes that LLMs lack grounding in the real world: they do not verify claims, access truth directly, or maintain stable internal models of reality. Instead, they assemble plausible responses, which can include fabricated citations, incorrect reasoning, or invented facts—especially when prompted beyond the limits of their training. This, of course, creates practical risks in domains like medicine, law, and education, where confident but incorrect outputs can mislead users who assume reliability based on linguistic fluency. Accordingly, the danger of LLMs is not simply that they make mistakes, but that they make them in ways that are difficult to detect. Their outputs exploit human cognitive biases—particularly our tendency to equate articulate language with competence—thereby increasing the likelihood that users will trust and act on erroneous information.

While Sejnowski’s warning concerns the epistemic layer—the reliability of what we are told—then the next question is what happens when that unreliable layer becomes embedded within systems of power and access. That, unfortunately, seems the likely result of algorithmic governance in the context of proposals to expand identity verification laws and the introduction of digital IDs, two converging trends with the potential to transform the internet into a highly controlled, identity-based system.

Last year, the U.S. Supreme Court upheld a Texas law requiring websites that host pornographic content to verify users’ ages—typically through government IDs or third-party verification—in order to block minors from access. While supporters argued that improved technology makes such checks feasible and comparable to in-person ID requirements, critics warned the law raises serious concerns about privacy, data security, and free speech, with verification systems also risked exposing sensitive personal information and restricting access to legally protected content. The decision set a broad precedent, potentially expanding similar laws nationwide and reshaping how identity verification is enforced across the internet. Since that ruling, seven more states joined the eighteen with existing age verification laws, with California scheduled to introduce its own next year.

Here, the U.S. is catching up to other Western nations. Last year, the United Kingdom began requiring all pornographic websites and apps to implement robust age verification measures under its Online Safety Act, replacing simple self-declaration with methods like facial recognition, digital IDs, or banking checks to prevent minors from accessing harmful content. Meanwhile, the European Union has begun implementing an age verification system with digital identity wallets (EUDI Wallets) to let users prove they meet age requirements—such as being over 18—through privacy-preserving, cryptographic credentials that avoid sharing full personal data. Currently being piloted across several EU countries, the system is expected to scale as part of a broader rollout of digital identity infrastructure across Europe.

As digital IDs become increasingly mandated, businesses and governments will have strong incentives to require them for access to online and even physical spaces, creating a “licensed” and gated environment. This shift would erode privacy, enable pervasive tracking, and undermine anonymous speech, as users become permanently tied to their real-world identities. Accordingly, without strong legal and technical safeguards, this emerging infrastructure risks locking society into a system of constant surveillance and restricted access to information.

The problem, then, is not merely that algorithmic systems can generate convincing falsehoods, but that these same systems are increasingly being positioned to mediate who is allowed to speak, see, and participate at all. Of course, the irony shouldn’t be lost on us that governments would introduce them to, in part, prevent their citizens from doing precisely what the State of Israel—which already has a digital ID to access government services—appears to have done with its recent releases of Netanyahu’s dubious “proof-of-life” videos.

If the twentieth century confronted citizens with the problem of propaganda—falsehoods injected into an otherwise legible reality—the twenty-first increasingly confronts us with something more disorienting: a condition in which reality itself becomes procedurally unstable. Not merely distorted, but continuously reconstituted through systems that neither guarantee truth nor remain accountable to it. In such an environment, the question “what happened?” yields less to investigation than to interpretation, and interpretation itself becomes subject to manipulation, amplification, and constraint.

At the same time, as certainty dissolves, systems of control are hardening. Identification regimes expand, access narrows, and participation becomes more tightly regulated—even as the informational substrate those systems depend on grows less trustworthy. This inversion is worth dwelling on: truth becomes harder to verify even as authority demands more verification from us. The issue is no longer simply whether something is real, but who has the authority to determine that reality—and on what basis.

Accordingly, we arrive at a paradox. As synthetic media makes it more difficult to believe what we see, emerging identity infrastructures make it increasingly impossible to opt out of being seen. We are given less reason to trust, while becoming more exposed. The result is not clarity, but enclosure: an environment in which uncertainty about the world coexists with unprecedented certainty about the individual. On one axis, systems generate persuasive but ungrounded information; on the other, systems determine who may speak, what may be seen, and under what conditions. Together, they form a feedback loop in which the erosion of trust justifies greater control, and greater control further centralizes the production and validation of reality.

Preserving any semblance of personal liberty under these conditions will require more than technical fixes or regulatory adjustments. It will demand a renewed commitment to the conditions that made truth politically meaningful in the first place: the ability to speak without permission, to access information without credentialing, and to question authority without being absorbed into its systems. Without such commitments, we risk arriving at a future in which everything is verified, nothing is trusted, and the distinction between reality and its simulation ceases to matter—not because it has been resolved, but because it has been rendered irrelevant. In that world, it no longer matters what’s true, but what we’re allowed to see and believed. The most important question becomes not what happened, but who has the power to decide what counts as having happened—and, within the framework of algorithmic governance, whether that power remains the responsibility of any human beings, let alone accountable to anyone or anything at all besides the spirit in which this system has been designed.

Dear Radio Free Pizza gourmets,

Wild year so far, huh? Sorry I’ve been out of touch: for many months now I’ve been mainly focused on trading options contracts to recover all the money I wish I’d spent on precious metals. But, I’m at least still keeping up a minimum of one post per month, even if none of them are the deep-dish dispatches that had previously been my signature. While the latest release of much-redacted Epstein files has once again made me regret my trademark username and title of this publication (“This even ruins pizza for me”)—though this doesn’t excuse my neglect in covering the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement’s late-January execution of Alex Pretti in my hometown the week before—regardless, I’ve got a birthday at the end of this month, so it seems like a good occasion for another informal journal.

Anyway, maybe you’ve heard that last Thursday U.S. President Trump ordered the release of classified materials on extraterrestrial life. This came on the heels of a 14 February interview with former President Barack Obama, in which he called aliens “real.” Though he walked those comments back the next day, saying that he “saw no evidence during my presidency that extraterrestrials have made contact with us,” his successor—who notably established the U.S. Space Force in 2019—would soon claim that Obama “gave classified information” before directing his Secretary of Defense to prepare those documents for public consumption.

While some (such as talk-show host Seth Meyers) might have interpreted Trump’s order as an attempted distraction from his numerous appearances in the aforementioned Epstein files, I viewed it through the lens of a comedy sketch from a 2008 episode of The Whitest Kids U’Know.

In the sketch, a press conference disclosing the existence of a U.S. moon base ends with one intrepid reporter asking, “We wouldn’t happen to be invading Iran today, would we?” before the press secretary’s face breaks into a smile and he admits, “You got me.” So, you can imagine why: given the transit of the USS Gerald R. Ford from the Caribbean Sea (where it had been stationed in 2025 until the successful kidnapping of the Venezuelan President earlier this year) along with dozens of fighter jets from North America and Europe to join the USS Abraham Lincoln in the Middle East, it seems clear that the U.S. stands prepared for the Islamic Republic of Iran to fall short of Trump’s demands for a “meaningful deal” (whatever that is) “over the next probably ten days.”

While diplomatic negotiations will resume tomorrow, Iranian officials strongly criticized Trump’s claims in his State of the Union address last night, accusing the president of spreading “big lies” about Iran’s nuclear program, missiles, and recent unrest, comparing its messaging to propaganda tactics. Parliament Speaker Mohammad Bagher Qalibaf warned that Tehran would respond forcefully to any military attack.

Since the Russian Federation and the People’s Republic of China have been conducting the Maritime Security Belt 2026 naval exercises with Iran, as they did last year, we can hopefully expect any U.S. aggression to wait until after they’ve departed.

This week’s failure of the sewage system aboard the USS Gerald R. Ford adds a little comedy to the situation, with 6500 sailors having only a handful of working toilets. However, The National Review promises us that “The Ford Will Accomplish Its Mission with or without Flushing Toilets”.

Regardless, when it comes to whether all this presidential talk of extraterrestrial life is a distraction from the Epstein files or from an impending U.S. strike on Iran: why not both? After all (“in my opinion”), it’s clear to anyone with a brain that Jeffrey Epstein was an Israeli Institute for Intelligence and Special Operations (Mossad) asset—though some, mainly in the British press, seem to have misplaced theirs—and that the State of Israel would be the prime geopolitical beneficiary of any U.S. attack on Iran, given (at a minimum, though maybe least of all) the two countries’ military exchanges in the summer of last year. Of course, if the U.S. hadn’t already involved itself in the campaign against the Islamic Republic, then we might have to worry that Israel would attack the U.S. itself to draw it into the conflict, as they did with the USS Liberty during the Six-Day War in 1967.

Understanding that, it’s curious to note that claims asserting a legitimate first contact between the U.S. and extraterrestrial life already arose from (among others) an actual Israeli official, as NBC News reported in 2020.

That official was Haim Eshed, retired brigadier general in Israeli Military Intelligence (Aman) and former director of the Space Committee at Israel’s Ministry of Science, Technology, and Space. In an interview published in English by The Jerusalem Post, Eshed alleges that aliens exist and that for years both the U.S. and Israel have been in contact with a group he calls “the Galactic Federation.” According to him, President Trump was aware of these aliens in his first term and had been on the verge of revealing their secrets, but this so-called Federation asked him not to in order to prevent mass hysteria. The retired general claims that humanity isn’t ready and that aliens don’t want to reveal themselves until humanity evolves and understands “what space and spaceships are” (whatever that means). Eshed also claimed that an agreement exists between the U.S. government and aliens for research into “the fabric of the universe” at a secret underground base on Mars.

“If I had come up with what I’m saying today five years ago, I would have been hospitalized,” said Eshed—with his translator perhaps not knowing what the phrase “come up with” usually implies in English. (If anyone in the British press is reading, it usually refers to something produced under pressure, like an excuse or deception.)

Eshed hit the press again in December 2025 to reiterate his outlandish claims that the U.S. and Israel both maintain diplomatic relations with extraterrestrials. After all, that’s not the only thing that the two imperialists do together: last summer, they conducted joint strikes on Iran, and obviously look like they’ll work together again—even though the White House claimed last year that it had destroyed all the Iranian nuclear facilities over which it now pretends to want a deal.

“We eliminated the threat, but the threat remains imminent!” Of course, we’ve been hearing about this imminent threat for decades: for over 30 years, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has repeatedly warned that Iran is on the brink of developing a nuclear weapon. Beginning in 1992, he claimed Iran was only a few years away from nuclear capability—a prediction he reiterated throughout the 1990s, in U.S. congressional testimony in 2002, in private remarks revealed by WikiLeaks in 2009, and dramatically at the United Nations in 2012 with a visual depiction of a bomb. Despite shifting intelligence assessments—including statements this year from the U.S. Director of National Intelligence indicating Iran is not building a nuclear weapon—Netanyahu continues to argue that Iran could obtain one within months or weeks. His message of imminent threat has remained largely unchanged across decades of diplomatic developments and evolving intelligence findings.

Maybe we’ll get a Whitest Kids U’Know reunion this year, too, since it seems like everything old is new again. But until then, we’ll wait with bated breath for the U.S.-Israel strikes on Iran that their sketch depicts as the real purpose behind American disclosures of extraterrestrial life. In the meantime, we can learn more about Iran’s position from Max Blumenthal’s interview of Professor Mohammad Marandi for The Grayzone last Friday.

Professor Marandi explains (at ~0:19) that Iran’s military drill simulating closure of the Strait of Hormuz is meant as a deterrent message to Washington and Tel Aviv. He outlines multiple methods Iran could use to shut the waterway: sinking ships in its narrow passage, targeting vessels across the Persian Gulf, and striking oil and gas infrastructure. He stresses that Iran does not require long-range missiles for regional warfare, citing its arsenal of medium- and short-range missiles, cruise missiles, drones, anti-ship systems, and asymmetric naval capabilities. With control of one coastline and strategic islands, Iran holds geographic leverage over Gulf monarchies hosting U.S. bases, including Al-Udeid in Qatar, from which the drone that killed General Soleimani was launched.

Providing historical context (at ~3:42), Marandi describes Iran’s restraint toward Gulf states after the Iran-Iraq War, despite their financial backing of Saddam Hussein and Western support for chemical weapons used in atrocities like the 1988 Halabja massacre. He recounts how Iran restored relations even after immense losses and notes Tehran later supported Qatar when it faced Saudi-UAE pressure, despite Qatar’s prior role in Operation Timber Sycamore and Syria’s destabilization.

He warns (at ~6:22) that a regional war would halt oil and gas exports from the Persian Gulf and Caucasus, potentially triggering a global economic crisis worse than 1929. Even if the U.S. is energy self-sufficient, he argues, soaring oil prices would shutter businesses before eventual collapse in demand. While Iran would retaliate against U.S. bases, Israel, and naval assets, the most devastating impact would be the shutdown of regional energy and trade flows.

Marandi discusses (at ~8:51) Ali Larijani’s outreach to Gulf states, describing them as fearful but unwilling to defy U.S. policy. He criticizes their symbolic gestures for Palestine while permitting U.S. military operations. The discussion turns (at ~11:20) to Turkey, where Marandi accuses Ankara of facilitating Israeli energy flows and destabilizing Syria, weakening its own strategic buffer. Blumenthal recounts (at ~13:38) a 2024 Istanbul conference where critics questioned Iran’s Palestine support despite Turkey’s gas trade with Israel, highlighting economic dependence on Western financial systems and Iran’s relative autonomy.

Emphasizing (at ~15:43) Iran’s sacrifices for Palestine, Marandi describes decades of sanctions, war, and propaganda. He identifies three hostile trends toward Iran: Western establishment elites, segments of the Western left, and Wahhabi-Salafi movements. He recalls surviving chemical attacks and visiting Halabja (at ~18:10), criticizing Western silence on Saddam’s crimes and the 1988 downing of Iran Air Flight 655. He analyzes (at ~20:29) coordinated anti-Iran narratives, including sectarian disinformation and orientalist stereotypes.

Blumenthal notes (at ~25:14) hostility from Trotskyist and liberal factions, while Marandi argues (at ~26:36) that those demonizing Iran while opposing war enable military escalation, citing U.S. admissions of economic pressure campaigns and intelligence involvement in unrest. He clarifies (at ~29:00) that Iran’s deeper Syria involvement began in 2013 to counter foreign-backed insurgency serving Israeli interests. Discussing ISIS (at ~31:18), he says Iran intervened early to defend Baghdad and Erbil when the U.S. hesitated.

Detailing military capabilities (at ~42:18), Marandi describes expanded underground missile systems, an asymmetric naval doctrine, and a strategic shift from defensive to offensive posture targeting U.S. forces. He outlines regional allies’ strength (at ~47:24), contrasting small Gulf monarchies with populous Yemen and Iraq. Predicting domestic U.S. resistance to war (at ~48:30), he cites economic fragility and political division.

Blumenthal recounts (at ~51:04) Israel’s initial strike in the 12-day war, and Marandi reiterates Iran will not initiate conflict but may preempt imminent attack. He notes (at ~58:21) expanded Iran-Russia-China cooperation, describes (at ~1:03:46) hostile Western media appearances in which he clashed with surprise guests supporting the former Iranian monarchy, and cites (at ~1:13:15) massive Iranian counter-demonstrations following riots, dismissed by some Western commentators. The interview concludes (at ~1:21:12) with warnings about U.S. economic pressure campaigns targeting sanctioned states, as well as Marandi’s cautious optimism that global awareness of geopolitical and financial power structures is growing despite escalating tensions.

Of course, the pair never got around to talking about aliens. Undoubtedly they’d agree that the topic is silly nonsense compared to the imminent threat of an armed conflict that might include nuclear powers like China and Russia—or, for that matter, that Israel finds itself on the losing side, and and decides to execute its Samson Option and deploy the nuclear weapons it developed with technology stolen from the U.S. and other allies.

Still, some of you with a predilection for the paranormal might wonder if aliens like those that Eshed described wouldn’t intervene to prevent a nuclear exchange. After all, a group of former U.S. Air Force personnel held a press conference in 2010 at the National Press Club claiming that unidentified flying objects (UFOs) had interfered with nuclear weapons systems. Former Capt. Robert Salas described a 1967 incident at Malmstrom Air Force Base in which 10 intercontinental ballistic missiles reportedly became inoperative as a glowing object hovered nearby. Retired officers also referenced the 1980 Rendlesham Forest incident near RAF Bentwaters and Woodbridge in England, where military personnel reported seeing a triangular craft, unusual ground markings, and unexplained lights. Some speakers said their reports were dismissed or classified as “top secret.” Researcher Robert Hastings, who organized the event, suggested the phenomena indicated extraterrestrials were monitoring nuclear weapons as a warning to humanity. However, the Pentagon had theretofore insisted that it cannot substantiate the existence of extraterrestrial craft.

So here we are. On one hand: retired Israeli officials describing a “Galactic Federation,” former U.S. presidents flirting with alien rhetoric, and the Pentagon promising document dumps about extraterrestrials. On the other: carrier strike groups repositioning, ten-day ultimatums, recycled nuclear countdown clocks, and a region that could ignite in ways that would not be confined to the desert.

While we are invited to contemplate life on Mars, very real human beings are contemplating life under sanctions, drone surveillance, and missile defense systems. While social media debates whether UFOs disable nukes out of cosmic benevolence, oil tankers still pass through the Strait of Hormuz under the shadow of war games. While headlines ask whether humanity is ready for interstellar diplomacy, Washington appears ready—again—for regime diplomacy by other means.

That’s the pattern that The Whitest Kids U’Know sketch understood intuitively: when the press conference gets weird, check the flight radar. Because these “disclosures” aren’t really about extraterrestrials: they’re about narrative management.

If there were truly a Galactic Federation observing us, one imagines they wouldn’t be confused by our technology, but by our storytelling: by our ability to recycle urgency, our talent for turning distraction into doctrine, and our habit of announcing existential threats on a loop until they become background noise.

Most likely, no alien intervention is coming to prevent escalation in the Persian Gulf. No triangular craft will descend and hit the off-switch on imperialism. If war comes—or if it is narrowly avoided—it will be because human beings made those decisions, calculated those risks, and bore those consequences.

Which leaves us with something much less cinematic but far more important: attention. Attention to carrier movements, to economic warfare, to how “imminent threats” age, and above all, to who benefits when the spotlight shifts upward.

Maybe that’s the real first contact—recognizing that we are not being visited, but managed. Not invaded from space, but shepherded through narratives. Not distracted by accident, but by design.

Welcome back to Earth.

As you might have heard, earlier this week Officer Jonathan Ross of U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) shot and killed 37-year-old U.S. citizen (and mother of three) Renee Nicole Good between East 33rd and East 34th Streets on Portland Avenue in Central Minneapolis. Good’s death has since inflamed national controversy, sparked widespread protests, and made headlines across the country. Video footage obtained from multiple angles—including cellphone video from Ross himself—shows an interaction in which ICE officers approached Good’s vehicle as she was stopped diagonally in the roadway during an enforcement action. An agent shouting orders reached toward the vehicle, and Ross shot Good as she attempted to drive away. Good’s vehicle then crashed further down the block, and she was pronounced dead at the scene.

Federal authorities initially released limited details, and have framed Good’s actions as a threat to ICE agents—President Donald Trump claimed that she “viciously ran over the ICE Officer”—though this characterization has been challenged by local officials and independent video analysis. (Ross was involved in a prior vehicle-related incident in June 2025, during which a motorist refused to exit during a stop and dragged him approximately 300 feet, possibly providing relevant context for his later threat perception.) In the aftermath, the federal government’s handling of the investigation has drawn criticism: state authorities, including Minnesota Governor Tim Walz and Minneapolis Mayor Jacob Frey, have disputed parts of the federal narrative and called for transparent review of the evidence. The FBI is reportedly leading the probe, and state and local agencies have expressed frustration over restricted access to key material.

Public response has been immediate and intense: protests have taken place in Minneapolis and are being organized in cities nationwide, often calling for ICE accountability and raising broader concerns about federal law-enforcement tactics. The incident has become a flashpoint in the larger national conversation on policing, immigration enforcement, and civil liberties, with tensions between federal and local officials further complicating efforts to reach a common understanding of the facts on the ground.

Longtime Radio Free Pizza gourmets may note this as an escalation of the city’s more longstanding tensions with policing and civil liberties, recalling our January 2024 dispatch that traced the long shadow of the late-May 2020 unrest following George Floyd’s death, when protests escalated into riots, the Minneapolis 3rd Precinct was abandoned on orders and then burned, and more than a thousand properties were damaged. We detailed how the aftermath has been marked not only by material destruction but by a lingering civic demoralization, sharp disagreements over policing, and a persistent sense among residents that public safety has deteriorated. More recent aficionados of our reporting might also remember last year’s journal describing renewed fears about political violence, then made concrete by the politically motivated killing of Minnesota lawmakers unfolding amid nationwide unrest, protests against immigration enforcement (”What else is new?”) and a polarizing military parade in Washington that symbolized deep national division.

Accordingly, we can certainly call it fitting that broader conflicts between state and federal governments might here find a potential flashpoint. (If that should become the case, then perhaps we shouldn’t have stopped short of predicting it in a slice from the start of 2024 that noted how American society has become increasingly primed—psychologically, politically, and culturally—for internal conflict, whether sparked by a singular catalyst or from pressures already built into the system.) This killing, then, may well provide a litmus test for how authority, accountability, and restraint are exercised when federal power meets local resistance on the ground. For now, however, open questions remain about the precise sequence of events, the decisions made by the officers on the scene, and how federal use-of-force policies are interpreted and applied in dynamic, high-stakes encounters. To shed light on these questions, we turn now to the analysis of Rev. Augustus Corbett, Esq.

Here, Corbett explains (at ~6:40) the foundational decision in Tennessee v. Garner (1985) establishing that, under the Fourth Amendment, police officers may use deadly force to prevent escape only if they have good faith belief the suspect poses significant threat of death or serious physical injury to officers or others. He emphasizes this case forms the starting point for legal analysis in all law enforcement deadly force situations, noting that officers should not kill suspects merely to prevent escape unless the threat condition is met.

From there, Corbett goes on to detail (at ~8:45) Graham v. Connor (1989), which set the governing “objective reasonableness” standard for evaluating police use of force. Under this framework, actions are judged from the perspective of a reasonable officer on the scene, accounting for the fact that officers often make split-second decisions under tense and uncertain conditions. Of course, he points out (at ~19:20) the difficulty of prosecuting law enforcement officers, citing built-in protections from Supreme Court precedent and jury bias favoring police, noting that most cases aren’t even indicted—and even if Minnesota files state charges, Ross may receive Supremacy Clause immunity under the precedent of In re Neagle (1890), which may protect federal officers performing lawful duties if they reasonably believed their conduct was necessary. To determine if Ross has that immunity, courts must consider the totality of circumstances, including the severity of the alleged crime, whether the suspect posed an immediate threat, and whether the suspect was actively resisting or attempting to flee. Corbett emphasizes that this analysis explicitly excludes the officer’s subjective intent—whether good or bad—as well as hindsight judgments informed by slow-motion video review.

Applying these principles (at ~23:15) to the available video, Corbett focuses heavily on the direction of the vehicle’s front tires at key moments, arguing that still frames appear to show the tires turned away from the officer rather than toward him, suggesting that the vehicle’s movement was oriented away from the officer’s position. Corbett therefore notes that if the tires had been pointed directly at the officer, the government would have a far stronger argument that deadly force was justified. Instead, the available imagery raises questions about whether an imminent threat existed at the moment shots were fired.

Corbett further observes (at ~30:00) from video frames that at the moment of his first shot, Ross’s feet were not positioned directly in front of the vehicle, appearing to have space to move aside rather than fire, which weakens claims of immediate danger. He also addresses what may have been a second shot, arguing that if fired after the vehicle was clearly moving away and no threat remained, justification under Tennessee v. Garner and Graham v. Connor would be even more constrained. Examining (at ~35:03) wider video shots showing no apparent bystanders in the vicinity who would have been endangered if the officer had allowed Good to escape, Corbett notes that—since the vehicle was moving away from the officer and no one else appeared to be at risk—the use of deadly force wasn’t justified under Tennessee v. Garner. However, he acknowledges that Graham v. Connor factors still apply, providing built-in protections for law enforcers.

Beyond the strictly legal analysis, the case has also exposed how rapidly questions of use of force become subsumed into broader moral and political narratives. In a separate commentary, Glenn Greenwald examines the same footage and public reaction not to adjudicate the shooting itself, but to interrogate how different factions have responded to it—particularly the tendency, across the ideological spectrum, to justify or even celebrate death when it befalls perceived political enemies.

Here, Greenwald details how conservatives have pointed to Ross’s own footage as evidence that the agent reasonably feared for his life and therefore acted in self-defense, while critics argue the video instead shows the driver turning away to flee rather than attempting to strike the agent, making the use of lethal force unjustified. Greenwald emphasizes that although the driver and her partner had behaved antagonistically toward officers before the shooting, adversarial or disrespectful speech at a protest is constitutionally protected and cannot, on its own, justify deadly force. He also highlights contextual details about the victim—who reportedly had no meaningful criminal record—to argue that the leap from protest behavior to an assumption of homicidal intent toward officers is unsupported.

Greenwald then widens the lens (at ~1:54) to examine reactions across the media and political spectrum. On parts of the right, he observed a shift from legal arguments about use of force to overt dehumanization of the victim, including inflammatory labels, emphasis on her sexual orientation, and narratives portraying the agent as heroic for supposedly “saving” the child from her parents. Some political figures escalated further, referring to the victim as a “domestic terrorist” or implying she deserved to die. On the left and center, the shooting was broadly condemned as murder, but Greenwald draws a parallel to past instances in which online commentators celebrated the on-camera killing of Charlie Kirk, underscoring that the celebration of political opponents’ deaths is not confined to any one ideological camp. He stresses the importance of distinguishing between legitimate criticism of public figures and the moral collapse represented by rejoicing in someone’s death, noting with concern that expressions of mere criticism are often punished more harshly than explicit celebrations of violence.

At the core of his analysis, Greenwald critiques (at ~8:53) what he describes as a broader societal coarsening and dehumanization of political adversaries, accelerated by polarized media ecosystems, online anonymity, and groupthink. He links this domestic moral erosion to U.S. foreign policy, arguing that a nation perpetually engaged in war must continually dehumanize external enemies, a habit that eventually seeps back into domestic culture. Citing Martin Luther King Jr.’s 1967 Riverside Church speech, Greenwald argues that violence abroad and violence at home are morally and psychologically connected.

Greenwald further challenges what he describes as an inconsistent pro-law-enforcement standard embraced by some on the right: that if a person defies lawful orders and an officer reasonably fears for their life, lethal force is justified. Applying that logic consistently, he argues (at ~21:25), would imply that Capitol Police should have used far more lethal force against violent participants on 6 January 2021. Of course, many of these same voices would reject that conclusion, revealing a politically selective application of principle. For Greenwald, both the Minnesota shooting and the killing of Ashli Babbitt on 6 January fail the same ethical test: deadly force should be an absolute last resort. He concludes that the gravest danger lies not in disagreement over individual cases, but in the abandonment of consistent moral standards altogether—replaced instead by factional judgments about who deserves to live or die. In his view, resisting that trend requires reaffirming strict thresholds for lethal force, rejecting the dehumanization of political opponents, and refusing opportunistic double standards driven by partisan loyalty.

Taken all together, Greenwald’s analysis situates the Minneapolis killing within a wider cultural pattern of dehumanization, selective outrage, and inconsistent standards for lethal force, in response to which one must ask what kind of society is being shaped by how we talk about who deserves to live or die.

In the end, Good’s killing cannot be responsibly reduced to a slogan, a clip, or a partisan verdict rendered in advance of full evidence. As Corbett’s legal analysis makes clear, the governing standards for deadly force are demanding by design, precisely because the power to kill in the name of the state must remain exceptional, constrained, and accountable. At the same time, as Greenwald’s broader critique underscores, the danger does not lie only in whether this single shooting meets a legal threshold, but in how readily Americans now sort such deaths into moral categories based on political allegiance—excusing, condemning, or even celebrating them accordingly. If this case is indeed a litmus test, it is not only for federal use-of-force policy or intergovernmental friction, but for whether a society already strained by violence, polarization, and mistrust can still insist on consistent principles, sober judgment, and the basic sanctity of human life. Until the facts are fully known, restraint—legal, moral, and rhetorical—remains the only position compatible with justice rather than faction.

Here we go again: this weekend, the United States violated the territory of a sovereign nation for the purpose of regime change, with airstrikes on Venezuelan military targets and critical urban infrastructure cutting electricity across the Venezuelan capital of Caracas before U.S. special forces kidnapped Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro and his wife. U.S. President Donald Trump announced their abduction on Truth Social, later posting a photo of President Maduro blindfolded and handcuffed aboard the USS Iwo Jima, in transit to the U.S. to stand trial as the supposed kingpin of Tren de Aragua and Cartel de los Soles, the Venezuelan crime syndicates—despite the conclusion in an April report from the U.S. National Intelligence Council that Maduro has nothing to do with the former, and the fact that the latter isn’t a hierarchical organization but a moniker invented to describe corruption in Venezuela’s armed forces.

What a way to start the year, huh? But our October bulletin on the subject speculated that “maybe a U.S. invasion is on hold until the court renders its ruling” on conflicts of interest in the auction of PDV Holding, parent company of Citgo Petroleum, the U.S. refining and marketing arm of Venezuela’s state-owned oil company, Petróleos de Venezuela, S.A. (PDVSA). That ruling came on 25 November, with a judge approving Elliott Investment Management’s takeover of PDV Holding—clearing the path for the privatization of Venezuela’s crown-jewel foreign asset, pending approval from the U.S. Treasury Department’s Office of Foreign Assets Control.

So, maybe we should just feel surprised that the U.S. waited more than a month to kidnap President Maduro. After all, President Trump told us last month that the U.S. “had a lot of oil there […] and we want it back,” though many economists and historians reject the claim, noting that foreign companies never owned Venezuela’s oil and that nationalization—accomplished in stages between 1976 and 2007—followed global norms of resource sovereignty. Though U.S. and European oil companies lost billions in assets, they were partially compensated through arbitration.

With U.S. sanctions since 2014 having cripple Venezuela’s oil sector and finances, Venezuelan exports now represent a small share of worldwide oil supply. Accordingly, those looking ahead might expect less of a shock to global energy markets, and more of a contextual shift in currency markets: since Trump told us yesterday that U.S. intends to “run” Venezuela in the interest of “taking out a tremendous amount of wealth out of the ground” to benefit “people from outside of Venezuela that used to be in Venezuela”—i.e., Western oil companies—we can surely expect petroleum exports from the Bolivarian Republic will be sold for U.S. dollars. Thus, the petrodollar system—the original purpose and recent decline of which we’ve covered a couple times in years past—looks like it has found fresh support against its gradual erosion.

Regarding just how the U.S. plans to run Venezuela—or rather, what proxies it will employ—our October bulletin contained another speculation that may have had a a similar degree of foresight: installing Venezuelan opposition leader and Nobel Peace Prize recipient María Corina Machado as the country’s president. Naturally, Machado welcomed the U.S. intervention for which she has long advocated, declaring that Venezuela’s “hour of freedom” had arrived and calling for 2024 opposition candidate Edmundo González to assume the presidency after Maduro’s removal—though apparently stating elsewhere that she is preparing to take power herself. For his own part, Trump has expressed interest in the latter but hasn’t yet committed.

Turning now to the U.S., the implications of Maduro’s kidnapping naturally reflect the declining empire’s efforts to maintain hegemony over the Western Hemisphere Trump claimed that the kidnapping represents an exercise of the Monroe Doctrine, under which the Western Hemisphere was declared off-limits to European colonization or intervention while promising U.S. non-interference in European affairs, but the absence of any efforts to bring Venezuela into the European sphere of influence renders Trump’s claims absurd on their face. Though the doctrine’s logic underpinned U.S. actions in Latin America throughout the Cold War—with presidents like Ronald Reagan invoking anti-communism to rationalize proxy wars, sanctions, and support for authoritarian allies—its latest invocation explicitly radicalizes the doctrine, dropping the pretense of opposition to European imperialism and instead simply asserting unilateral U.S. control over the Americas.

Continued exercise of this expanded doctrine—or, really, the continued assertion of U.S. hegemony over the Western Hemisphere—could mean laying the foundation for a long-theorized North American Union, which we here at Radio Free Pizza detailed almost one year ago, and which now warrants renewed attention. What once seemed dormant has been reanimated by Donald Trump’s post-2024 expansionist rhetoric—from musing about Canada as a “51st state,” to renewed interest in Greenland’s strategic resources, to threats against Panama—occurring alongside direct U.S. intervention in Venezuela, including regime-change operations, seizures of Venezuelan assets like Citgo, and the extraterritorial application of U.S. courts and force.

Placed in that context, Venezuela begins to look less like an isolated case and more like a testbed: a demonstration of how sovereignty can be overridden through sanctions, courts, and military power under the banner of security, narcotics control, or democracy promotion. While mainstream voices dismiss the North American Union as conspiracy, the pattern echoes older supranational ambitions—from NAFTA and the Security and Prosperity Partnership to CFR blueprints for a “North American Community”—now resurfacing amid U.S. anxiety over a multipolar world in which blocs like BRICS+ challenge American primacy.

The contradiction is telling. Trump’s earlier obsession with border walls coexists uneasily with continental ambitions, suggesting not a coherent nationalism but a reactive strategy to declining dominance. Of course, the risk is that “integration” and “stability” become pretexts for upward consolidation of power, elite control, and the erosion of democratic self-determination. Whether the North American Union emerges as policy, pressure tactic, or political theater, the through-line remains the same: who governs, by what authority, and for whose benefit—an unresolved question now being answered, most starkly, in Venezuela, and in what government takes shape following the success of U.S. efforts toward regime change.

If the events of this weekend tell us anything, it is that the language of international law, democracy promotion, and even counter-narcotics has finally collapsed into something far cruder: open force exercised without consent, mandate, or restraint. The kidnapping of a sitting head of state—preceded by airstrikes on civilian infrastructure and followed by boasts on social media—is not an aberration. It is the logical endpoint of a decades-long trajectory in which sanctions, courts, covert operations, and proxy politics gradually replaced diplomacy, only to give way again to naked coercion when those tools proved insufficient.

Venezuela now stands as the clearest warning of where that path leads. Its oil was first strangled through sanctions, its foreign assets seized through U.S. courts, its political process delegitimized through narrative warfare, and its leadership finally removed through military force—all while the rhetoric shifted seamlessly from “democracy” to “security” to “we want it back.” That sequence is not unique to Venezuela; it is simply the most complete case to date.

As the Monroe Doctrine is refashioned into an explicit claim of hemispheric ownership, and as expansionist talk bleeds into concrete action, the question is no longer whether old imperial patterns have returned, but whether they will now be normalized under a unitary executive that recognizes no meaningful limits. The future hinted at here—whether labeled a North American Union or something else entirely—is one in which sovereignty flows upward, accountability evaporates, and governance is imposed rather than chosen.

History suggests that such projects rarely end where their architects intend. What remains to be seen is whether the peoples of the Americas will accept this moment as inevitable—or recognize it, clearly and soberly, as a line that has already been crossed. We here at Radio Free Pizza presume that Latin Americans recognize that already, and hope that the U.S. population soon catches up and mobilizes to reverse the course.

In the past month, the Somali community of Minnesota—the largest outside Africa—has faced heightened tension after President Donald Trump launched repeated attacks against Somali immigrants, threatened to revoke their legal protections, and supported upcoming immigration enforcement actions targeting the community. Conservatives like President Trump have used isolated fraud cases to malign Somalis broadly, intensifying scrutiny of the community and fear within it.

At the risk of sounding heartless, we could say that the community (particularly its elders) probably finds the feeling familiar. Following the start of the Somali Civil War in 1991, refugees were initially resettled across the country, but soon began arriving in Minnesota because of its reputation for effective refugee support, a stable economy, and perceived safety and kindness. Many more later moved to Minnesota through “secondary arrivals,” drawn by family connections, strong refugee resettlement agencies, and economic opportunity. Today, about 84,000 Somali Americans live in the state, with a large share U.S.-born and the vast majority holding U.S. citizenship.

Of course, perceived kindness means vulnerability to exploitation, and allegations of fraud seem well-founded: the largest case, Feeding Our Future, involves a COVID-era scheme in which defendants claimed to feed millions of children but instead diverted funds. (Compared to the scheme that was the pandemic itself, this one is at a scale we might call “cute.”) Overall fraud losses across multiple cases could exceed $1 billion, according to prosecutors’ estimates from early December, though more recent estimates put the figure at $9 billion. Most of the defendants—more than 90% across the major cases—are of Somali descent, though prosecutors note the alleged ringleader in the largest case was a white American woman.

In addition to labeling Minnesota’s Somalis as “garbage,” President Trump and conservative outlets have suggested fraud proceeds may have funded Al-Shabaab, the Somali terrorist organization that has for two decades wreaked havoc across the country, but Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent acknowledged that investigators have so far found no evidence to support terrorism allegations, and no such charges have been filed.

Naturally, Rep. Ilhan Omar (D-MN), the first Somali American elected to Congress, condemned Trump’s remarks as racist and dangerous. Community leaders describe themselves and their fellow Somalis as “under siege,” but note strong support from Twin Cities leadership and resilience within the community. Nonetheless, most Somali Americans in Minnesota continue to face deep socioeconomic challenges: a majority live in poverty or near-poverty, with low median incomes, lower educational attainment, and low homeownership rates compared to other groups. Many small businesses struggle to survive, and language barriers remain common. Researchers and community leaders argue that these patterns resemble earlier immigrant groups and expect second-generation Somalis to achieve significantly better outcomes, but stress that persistent poverty within the community poses a long-term economic challenge for Minnesota as a whole.

Again, at the risk of sounding heartless, we could say that the Somali community (particularly its elders) is probably familiar with economic challenges: the estimated $9 billion in fraud sits at just under three-quarters of Somalia’s current GDP, with the country’s economy predictably handicapped after more than three decades of a civil war that has internally displaced more than 2 million Somalis, generated over 900,000 registered refugees in East Africa alone, and led to repeated famines that killed hundreds of thousands.

But Somalia’s long-running crisis is not simply the result of internal failure but has been deeply shaped—and worsened—by decades of foreign intervention, particularly by the U.S. and its allies, as historians like Elizabeth Schmidt of Loyola University of Maryland and documentaries like that from Africon Productions make clear.

Africon Productions begins its analysis (at ~1:37) with Somalia’s colonial roots during the late 19th century scramble for Africa. The British established a protectorate in the north (British Somaliland) in 1887, while Italians controlled the south (Italian Somaliland) in the 1880s and 1890s. France seized territory now known as Djibouti, while parts of the Somali population remained in what became Ethiopia and Kenya. This fragmentation inaugurated irredentist tensions that persist to this today, and inspired the resistance led by Sayyid Mohammed Abdullah Hassan, who conducted a 21-year rebellion (1899–1920) against British, Italian, and Ethiopian forces, seeking to unite all Somalis under one Islamic government. After World War II, Italian Somaliland came under UN trusteeship in 1950 while remaining under Italian administration, and British Somaliland gained internal autonomy in 1960.

The documentary goes on to detail (at ~3:24) British Somaliland’s independence on 26 June 1960, quickly followed by voluntary merger with Italian Somaliland on 1 July, forming the Somali Republic. Aden Abdulle Osman became the first president, and the unification was celebrated across the Somali world as a triumph of nationalist aspirations. The newly independent Somalia adopted a democratic system and aimed to promote unity, democracy, and Pan-Somali nationalism, though the dream of Greater Somalia including all Somali-inhabited regions led to tensions with neighboring Ethiopia and Kenya.

Despite these challenges, the 1960s represented a hopeful period when Somalia embraced self-rule, joined the United Nations, and pursued development and national pride before political instability and dictatorship derailed their vision. Detailing (at ~6:35) the aftermath of President Abdirashid Ali Shermarke’s 1969 assassination, the documentary describes how General Mohamed Siad Barre seized power in a bloodless coup. He then suspended the constitution, banned political parties, and declared Somalia a socialist state based on scientific socialism inspired by the Soviet Union and China. Initially, Barre’s regime achieved significant gains through literacy campaigns, infrastructure projects, and anti-corruption measures, positioning himself as a modernizer and Pan-Somali nationalist. However, despite publicly denouncing clanism as backward and divisive, his regime covertly relied on clan favoritism, serving his own Marehan clan (part of the larger Darod clan family) along with allied Ogaden and Dulbahante clans, forming the MOD alliance. State institutions, military, and intelligence services were dominated by these groups, deeply alienating other major clans, especially the Isaac in the north and Hawiye in central regions.

We learn next (at ~7:51) how Barre launched a military campaign in 1977 to annex Ethiopia’s Ogaden region, home to ethnic Somalis. Initially successful, Somalia’s army advanced deep into Ethiopian territory. However, the Soviet Union switched sides to support Ethiopia, providing massive military aid and facilitating support from Cuban troops, leading to Somalia’s decisive defeat. The Ogaden War proved disastrous both militarily and economically, humiliating the regime, discrediting Pan-Somali aspirations, and causing massive financial strain. Barre broke ties with the Soviet Union and aligned with the U.S., but the damage was irreversible. The war created thousands of refugees and displaced persons, straining local communities and government resources while causing many Somalis to lose faith in Barre’s leadership.

The aforementioned Schmidt describes how U.S. backing after the Ogaden War kept Barre in power despite widespread repression, corruption, and economic collapse. Once the Cold War ended, Washington withdrew its support and criticized Barre’s human rights abuses. Deprived of external backing, his regime fell in 1991, plunging Somalia into state collapse. Warlords and clan militias carved up the country, while Islamist organizations filled the vacuum by restoring basic law, order, and social services—gaining popular support in the process.

Africon Productions’ documentary also points (at ~9:07) to the role that competition over foreign aid played in fomenting and fueling the Somali Civil War. As Somalia entered a deep economic crisis in the 1980s, corruption became rampant as the elite, especially those linked to the ruling clan alliance, looted state resources and funneled foreign aid into private accounts rather than supporting development. When the central government collapsed in 1991, international humanitarian agencies rushed into Somalia to address famine and mass displacement.

However, with no functioning state authority, warlords and clan militias quickly moved to control ports, airports, and distribution centers where aid arrived. These groups seized shipments, taxed aid convoys, and used relief supplies as currency to buy weapons and recruit fighters. The struggle to dominate aid routes intensified rivalries between warlords like General Aidid and Ali Mahdi. Meanwhile, Schmidt adds, though the U.S.-led UN intervention in the early 1990s initially claimed humanitarian goals, it escalated into a military campaign against selected warlords, especially General Aidid—whose militia, the documentary tells us (at ~17:11), saw foreign troops as threats to his authority. Civilian casualties from airstrikes and raids provoked widespread hostility, culminating in the 1993 Battle of Mogadishu, where U.S. Rangers attempted to capture Aidid’s top lieutenants. The operation failed, resulting in 18 U.S. soldiers’ deaths and hundreds of Somali casualties. Images of a dead American soldier dragged through the streets shocked the world. By 1995, the U.S. and UN withdrew, admitting failure and abandoning Somalia to its warlords.

Following Aidid’s death in 1996, we learn (at ~18:15), no single faction could dominate Somalia, leaving the country fragmented. Clan-based administrations emerged in regions like Bay, Bakul, Jubaland, and Gedo, each run by local warlords or businessmen. Amid the chaos, Islamic courts based on Sharia law began gaining influence, initially as community-led efforts to provide justice and security where the state had failed. Over time, they united into the Islamic Courts Union (ICU). By 2006, the ICU controlled most of southern Somalia, including Mogadishu, bringing unprecedented stability. However, the ICU also had radical elements, with its leadership including figures accused of links to Al-Qaeda, and its rise alarming both Somalia’s Transitional Federal Government (TFG) and neighboring Ethiopia.

Schmidt here would hasten to add that, following the collapse of the World Trade Center on 11 September 2001, Somalia was re-cast through the lens of counterterrorism. The U.S. treated Islamist movements as inherently extremist, ignoring their social-service role and local legitimacy. For that reason, Washington backed both Ethiopia and Somali warlords, and propped up the TFG—which she characterizes as weak and corrupt—as Ethiopian troops invaded Somalia in December 2006 with TFG support and ousted the ICU within weeks. Subsequent U.S. strategy relied on “low-intensity warfare”: drone strikes, special forces, and private contractors. These tactics killed leaders but failed to dismantle the movement, instead fueling recruitment and spreading violence regionally, including attacks in Kenya.

As Africon Productions details (at ~20:30), the Ethiopian occupation was deeply unpopular among Somali residents, and consequently sparked a new insurgency. From the ICU’s ashes, the aforementioned Al-Shabaab (Harakat al-Shabaab al-Mujahideen)—originally a non-violent youth militia defending Islamic courts—emerged as an extremist jihadist group with global ambitions and Al-Qaeda allegiance. Al-Shabaab launched a fierce insurgency against the Ethiopian-backed TFG using guerrilla tactics, suicide bombings, and assassinations, gaining control of vast areas in southern and central Somalia. In 2009, facing heavy resistance and mounting casualties, Ethiopia withdrew from Somalia. The TFG similarly returned to Mogadishu, but remained weak as Al-Shabaab continued growing and imposed harsh Sharia law in controlled areas. In 2012, Al-Shabaab officially pledged allegiance to Al-Qaeda, becoming part of the global jihadist movement and recruiting foreign fighters from America, Europe, and East Africa.

The documentary continues (at ~23:18) its discussion of the civil war’s devastating consequences, including the collapse of the country’s formal economy, with key sectors including banking, manufacturing, infrastructure, and public services destroyed. Major ports like Mogadishu and Kismayo fell under militia control, the national airline ceased operations, and roads and bridges were destroyed. Livestock trade, informal markets, remittances, and piracy became main income sources. Diaspora remittances, estimated at over $1.5 billion annually, became a vital economic lifeline for families relying on relatives abroad. Warlords, arms dealers, and smugglers built a war economy based on looting, extortion, and illegal trade of charcoal, arms, and people.

The conflict profoundly destabilized the Horn of Africa region, with Kenya facing major Somali refugee influxes, extremist cells, and deadly Al-Shabaab terrorist attacks. Its impact gained even greater geopolitical scope as piracy off the Somali coast became a global concern between 2005–2011, with armed Somali pirates hijacking commercial ships in the Gulf of Aden and Indian Ocean, demanding millions in ransom. Global shipping lanes were disrupted, requiring multinational naval force deployment to patrol Somali waters. The conflict fueled cross-border arms smuggling, human trafficking, and drug trade that affected Yemen and the Arabian Peninsula.

Africon Productions also details (at ~31:51) how the African Union Mission in Somalia (AMISOM) has played a critical role since 2007 in fighting Al-Shabaab and in stabilizing parts of the country. Thousands of African troops, primarily from Uganda, Burundi, Kenya, Ethiopia, and Djibouti, died in the mission. (We here at Radio Free Pizza wonder if the Alliance of Sahel States feels at all impressed, since the bloc departed the Economic Community of West African States [ECOWAS] in 2024 for its failure to effectively counter terrorism, and received consequent sanctions from the African Union.)

The documentary concludes optimistically (at ~33:51) that, despite devastating consequences lasting over three decades, signs of recovery are emerging in Somalia: a federal government exists, local administrations are functioning, and parts of the economy are rebounding, fueled by diaspora remittances and international aid. However, significant challenges remain with Al-Shabaab still active, political divisions persisting, and humanitarian needs remaining high. International efforts have often been criticized for being disjointed, overly militarized, and insensitive to Somali political realities, with Western backers supporting unpopular governments and peace-building initiatives failing to meaningfully include local stakeholders. Despite massive aid, Somalia remains heavily dependent on external support, and the withdrawal of AMISOM—first restructured as the African Union Transition Mission in Somalia (ATMIS) and now as the African Union Support and Stabilization Mission in Somalia (AUSSOM), whose current mandate expires one year from today—poses future risks. Nonetheless, one must certainly admire the resilience shown by the Somali people in enduring such immense suffering in their ongoing struggle to rebuild their nation.

Taken as a whole, the Somali experience illustrates how sustained U.S. intervention in foreign affairs—shaped less by local realities than by shifting geopolitical priorities—has repeatedly deepened instability rather than resolved it. From Cold War patronage that propped up an increasingly repressive dictatorship, to abrupt abandonment after strategic usefulness expired, to post-9/11 counterterrorism policies that conflated local governance with global jihad, U.S. actions consistently undermined Somali sovereignty and social cohesion. Military solutions displaced political ones; externally imposed governments displaced indigenous legitimacy; and short-term security objectives eclipsed long-term state-building. The rise of warlordism, the militarization of humanitarian aid, and the transformation of community-based Islamic courts into extremist insurgencies were not aberrations but predictable results of intervention policies that consequently perpetuated instability, marginalized grassroots peacekeeping efforts, and ensured that ordinary Somalis bore the ongoing cost of endless war.

Somalia’s decades-long suffering thus stands as a cautionary case: when U.S. power is exercised without accountability to local populations or respect for internal political processes, it does not merely fail to bring stability, but actively manufactures the very chaos it later claims to combat.

Seen in this fuller historical light, the social-services fraud now being weaponized against the Somali community in Minnesota is less an aberration than a downstream effect of prolonged foreign intervention and displacement. When a people shaped by humanitarian dependency, institutional vacuum, and predatory aid regimes are resettled into a wealthy state whose social programs are complex, under-supervised, and suddenly flush with emergency funds, some degree of exploitation is not surprising: it is structural. To treat such fraud as evidence of cultural pathology or moral failure is to erase the conditions that produced it, many of them authored or amplified by U.S. policy itself. If the U.S. wishes to prevent these outcomes, the remedy lies not in collective punishment or racialized scapegoating, but in reckoning honestly with how intervention abroad deforms incentives at home, and building systems—in both domestic and foreign policy—that emphasize accountability, inclusion, and dignity rather than extraction, suspicion, and spectacle.

Dear Radio Free Pizza gourmets,

Here we go again: another chapter of the oblique autobiography I’ve been writing as “journals”—which some critics might just call filler, since the typical content I produced in my first couple of years has been largely absent for the majority of 2025.

The first charted the path from my early Mexico years through early trips, deep friendships, a 2018 seizure and coma, and a doomed real-estate investment meant to secure my father’s retirement. I found myself back in Mexico City again this past April, where I found myself with my job ending and my future uncertain, but trying to trust that every stalled chapter eventually turns. But that chapter turned for the worse, and the second found me back in Minneapolis—jobless, shaken by losses, and facing a nation devolving into political turmoil. In that unrest, I turned toward stillness, faith, and the idea of resilience as both spiritual grounding and active renewal. In the third, I wrote about driving from Minneapolis to Chicago for the Center for Political Innovation’s Great Unity Convention, after which I came home (to a new job) convinced once more of the importance of building bridges rather than conducting purity tests, of rejecting political violence, and of organizing for material peace: work, housing, healthcare, education, and dignity for working families at home and abroad.

So, given the nobility of those aims, let me tell you that no one regrets more than I do the relative absence of content here to support them. Without going into further detail, suffice it to say that this has been the hardest year of my life.

This journal, I hope, will mark the beginning of a (likely slow) return to form. To that end, I’d like to delve a little deeper than usual on spiritual matters, with reference to the same dispatch touched upon in a previous journal. There, I introduced what I called Liberation Vitalism—my attempt to braid the justice-focus of liberation theology with a life-affirming vitalism. I reflected on Gustavo Gutiérrez’s legacy, noted the familiar critiques that liberation theology edges into Marxism, and walked through today’s debates on “Christian vitalism,” Bronze Age Mindset, and the deeper cultural metacrisis—a crisis born of our loss of the sacred. Overall, I attested the obvious: that living beings carry an intrinsic value machines never can.

Against that backdrop, I sketched the core of Liberation Vitalism—human dignity, authentic desire, compassionate strength, deep community, and spiritual resistance to dehumanization—and I closed by insisting, with a quote from the Epistle of James, that faith without deeds is dead, and any philosophy that fights oppression is worth meeting halfway.

Either before or while composing that dispatch (I honestly can’t remember), I happened to come across an October 2024 video from the estimable Dr. John Campbell—surely a familiar name to dissidents of the 2022–’23 coronavirus pandemic, and to whose work we referred in February 2024—that might have put the idea of addressing Christianity into my mind.

Here, Campbell walks through the Shroud of Turin from a multitude of angles—scientific, medical, historical, and of course spiritual—explaining how this 14-foot linen cloth bears a photographic-negative image of a crucified man, something impossible to produce before the invention of photography, and how the image even encodes real three-dimensional information that NASA’s VP8 analyzer can translate into accurate relief. I learned that the image is incredibly superficial, with only the outermost fibers bearing it, and that they contain no paint, pigment, dye, or stain, making artistic forgery essentially impossible. Campbell also lays out the pathological details visible in the image: scourge marks, crown-of-thorns wounds, wrist-nail placement, a spear wound, bruising, and blood patterns—all medically consistent with Roman crucifixion practices, and with the Gospel accounts.

The biological findings were also compelling: real human blood with high bilirubin levels, Jerusalem-matching limestone under the blood, and pollen that traces the object’s historical movement from Jerusalem through Turkey and into Europe. Campbell also addressed the controversial 1988 carbon-dating result that placed the Shroud in the medieval period, explaining how the test came from a repaired corner contaminated with later materials, and how newer dating methods and textile comparisons suggest a much earlier, possibly first-century origin. The connection to the Sudarium of Oviedo—a separate head cloth with bloodstain patterns that match the Shroud perfectly and whose provenance reaches back over a millennium—was especially striking. By the end, I came away feeling that while absolute certainty may be impossible, the convergence of scientific, forensic, and historical evidence makes the Shroud far more mysterious, and far more compelling, than I ever expected.

Campbell has since returned, now and then, to the topic of the Shroud, but until today these have escaped my attention. Still, Christianity remained a subject of interest in my mind long after developing Liberation Vitalism, and became an even larger one after suffering my many setbacks of 2025. For that reason, what little philosophical investigations I’ve undertaken this year have concerned themselves largely (if not entirely) with Christian metaphysics, of which I’d like to share some results. These won’t address the mystery of the resurrection, however—and in fact I must warn the faithful among you, they’re potentially heretical, depending on your ecclesiastical framework. But if (knowing my own audience) concerns about heresy don’t trouble you, then I hope you’ll find them enlightening.

With that in mind, let’s turn to (an audiobook of) Neville Goddard’s At Your Command (1939), the inaugural text of the author’s career, in which he explores the idea that consciousness is God and that our awareness of being is the creative power shaping our reality: that through which people create their experiences, according to their consciousness and beliefs.

Goddard’s central teaching is that to manifest desires, one must assume the feeling of already possessing what is wanted, rather than begging “God” as an external deity. Accordingly, he interprets biblical stories (at ~1:46) not as historical record or biography, but as a psychological drama taking place in human consciousness, and suggests that by claiming this understanding as your own, you can transform your world from “barren deserts of Egypt to the promised land of Canaan.”

In his view, we learn (at ~3:42), the numerous biblical appearances of “I am” statements—such as when God introduces himself to Moses as “I Am That I Am” and instructs him to tell the Israelites “I Am hath sent me unto you” (Exodus 3:14)—reveal that the true identity of God abides in our own awareness of being. Furthermore, Christ’s statement in John 14:6 that “I am the way” indicates how consciousness itself is the resurrecting power. Goddard explains that man is always “out-picturing” what he is conscious of being, and this truth makes man free from self-imprisonment. Accordingly, he urges readers to give up beliefs in a God apart from themselves and claim God as their awareness of being, as Jesus and the prophets did.

Goddard goes on (at ~5:11) to interpret Jesus’ seemingly contradictory statements “I and my Father are one” (John 10:30) and “my Father is greater than I” (John 14:28), explaining that consciousness (the Father) is greater than what one is conscious of being (the Son), yet they remain one—like a conceiver and his conceptions. Accordingly, consciousness is the Father drawing manifestations of life to you, and you are currently drawing into your world whatever you are conscious of being. For that reason, he tells us (at ~7:40) of his own reading of Christ’s dictum that, “Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God” (John 3:3):

If you are dissatisfied with your present expression in life, the only way to change it is to take your attention away from that which seems so real to you and rise in consciousness to that which you desire to be. You cannot serve two masters; therefore, to take your attention from one state of consciousness and place it upon another [state of consciousness] is to die to one and live to the other.

On the same principle, Goddard reinterprets Christ asking Peter, “Whom say ye that I am?” (Matthew 16:15) as an eternal question addressed to oneself, explaining that your conviction of yourself determines your expression in life. Thus, Goddard explains (at ~9:11) why millions of prayers go unanswered: people pray for change while their consciousness remains fixated on what they desire to see changed. He teaches that successful prayer must be claiming rather than begging—turning away from pictures of lack by denying mere appearance and instead assuming the state of consciousness in which one already possesses that for which one prays—and emphasizes (at ~10:21) not questioning how what one desires will appear. Because signs always follow and never precede, he advocates instead that, in prayer, one should simply establish the state of consciousness in which one possesses what one seeks, and letting manifestations follow naturally.

Goddard continues his reinterpretation of the Gospels, staging (at ~11:31) the biblical story of Mary not as a woman giving birth to Jesus, but as the awareness of being that remains virgin regardless of how many desires to which it gives birth, and invites readers to see themselves as Mary being impregnated through desire, becoming one with their desire to the point of embodying it—even in the absence of logical reason to believe what one wants is possible—by making your awareness your husband, and thus conceiving the eventual manifestation of one’s desires. This in turn mirrors the first verse of John—“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God” (John 1:1)—which, Goddard tells us (at ~13:38), describes the process of creation. He explains that “the beginning” is the present moment when desire arises, with “the Word” being desires seeking embodiment, which can attain to no reality until united with the awareness of being.

That, however, comes with Goddard’s caveat (at ~16:28) that you cannot put “new wine in old bottles”—you cannot take your present beliefs, fears, and limitations into new consciousness. He instructs readers to take attention away from problems and dwell upon “just being” by declaring “I am” without conditions until feeling formless. Within this expanded consciousness, one can give form to new conceptions by feeling oneself to be what is desired. He describes this state as containing all possibilities, interpreting 2 Corinthians 5:8 (“willing rather to be absent from the body, and to be present with the Lord”) as leaving behind former self-conception to assume a new identity. Naturally, this may require revaluing oneself, and so Goddard encourages readers (at ~19:16) to awaken to the “everlasting Father” that is their own awareness of being—their true power beyond human limitations.

In another dissection of a biblical appearance of the phrase “I am,” Goddard interprets (at ~21:11) Christ’s assurance that “I am the good shepherd” (John 10:11) to mean that awareness is the shepherd, and what one is aware of being are the sheep that follow. He describes awareness as “a voice calling in the wilderness of human confusion” that always finds expression, and which therefore has never lost any “sheep” that it has been aware of being. Similarly, Goddard reinterprets “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want” (Psalm 23:1) to mean that consciousness never lacks evidence of what one is aware of being, and therefore enjoins the reader to become aware of positive qualities rather than restricting one’s awareness to their opposites.

Goddard emphasizes again (at ~22:53) that your world reflects your consciousness—you don’t have your present consciousness because of your world, but rather, your world is what it is because of your consciousness. He acknowledges this principle seems too simple for “the wisdom of man that tries to complicate everything,” and notes that this revelation initially seems blasphemous as it contradicts beliefs in an external God. Still, he reiterates that his reconciliation of the apparent contradiction in “I and my father are one, but my father is greater than I” implies that you are one with your present self-conception, but nonetheless, you remain greater than what you’re currently aware of being. But before attempting to shift one’s awareness and transform one’s world, he stresses (at ~23:35) establishing the foundation that “I am the Lord”—that one’s awareness of being is God—and warns that without firmly establishing this understanding, one will return to former limiting beliefs.

Discussing further biblical appearances of the phrase “I am,” Goddard reinterprets (at ~35:11) Christ’s assertion that “I am the vine, ye are the branches” (John 15:5) to mean that consciousness is the vine, and the qualities one is conscious of being are the branches. Since things have no life except insofar as one is conscious of them, just as branches wither without sap, things in your world pass away when you withdraw attention from them. He again advises dissolving problems by removing attention from them and becoming indifferent, while instead feeling yourself to be the solution. Turning next (at ~37:23) to Jesus’ arrest in the Garden of Gethsemane, Goddard interprets his inquiry “Whom [do you seek]?” and his assertion that, indeed, “I am he” (John 18:4–5, 7–8) as crystallizing a principle of manifestation. He explains that whatever you seek salvation from—whether hunger, poverty, imprisonment, disease—your savior is the state you desire—food, riches, freedom, health. He instructs readers to claim “I am he” by feeling themselves to be the thing desired, not in words but in consciousness, and explains that “feeling after” a quality in consciousness until you feel yourself to be it causes that quality to embody itself as healing in your world.

Goddard further encourages readers (at ~39:38) to believe in their awareness of being as God and to claim for themselves all attributes previously given to an external deity, interpreting “Except the Lord build the house, they labour in vain that build it” (Psalm 127:1) to mean that unless what you seek is first established in consciousness, you labor in vain to find it. He therefore urges readers (at ~41:36) to stop blaming others and find themselves as the cause of everything in their lives, explaining that “No man can come to me, except the Father which hath sent me draw him” (John 6:44) means that consciousness draws all manifestations—for example, for a poor man to find wealth until he first claims himself wealthy.

Using the parable of the prodigal son, Goddard illustrates (at ~42:50) how one must realize they brought about their own conditions of lack and make the decision to rise to a higher level. He notes there was no condemnation of the prodigal when he claimed his inheritance, explaining that others condemn us only as long as we condemn ourselves. Accordingly, Goddard advises readers (at ~44:30) to stop questioning whether they are worthy to receive their desires, explaining that desires are fashioned within us based on what we claim ourselves to be. He instructs readers to “leave all judgments out of the picture,” elevate one’s consciousness to the level of what one desires and to claim it as present reality, interpreting “My grace is sufficient for thee” (2 Corinthians 12:9) as having faith in unseen claims until conviction is born.

Goddard emphasizes (at ~45:45) not being anxious about results, which will follow “as surely as day follows night.” He encourages looking upon desires as “spoken words of God,” and therefore as promises. He explains that most people fail to realize desires because they constantly condition them, describing (at ~47:06) how people habitually judge by appearances and see things as real, forgetting that the only reality is consciousness. Addressing the question of whether destructive desires come from God, he tells readers that no one truly desires to kill another, but rather desires freedom from them. He states that because people don’t believe the desire for freedom contains its own fulfillment, they distort God’s gifts through lack of faith.

Explaining (at ~50:00) that the heavenly state one seeks exists only in consciousness, as “the kingdom of God is within you” (Luke 17:21). Goddard states that we are currently living in the heaven we’ve established within ourselves. He encourages creating a new heaven by entering a new state of consciousness, which will cause a new earth to appear. He interprets “behold, I come quickly; and my reward is with me” (Revelation 22:12) to mean that consciousness quickly rewards us with whatever we deeply believe about ourselves, as “God is not mocked.” Commenting (at ~51:16) on the biblical story of the disciples fishing all night without success until Jesus appeared, Goddard contrasts fishing “in the night of human darkness” (seeking external things through effort) with fishing as directed by Christ (with one’s awareness of being). He instructs readers to “fish in consciousness” for desires, explaining that to catch what is beyond present capacity, one must “launch out into deeper water” by taking attention away from current problems and limitations.

Describing (at ~53:16) the process of expanding consciousness by declaring “I am” without conditions, Goddard explains that this practice causes one to feel an expansion “as though you were actually growing.” He reassures readers not to fear this experience, as former limitations will die as one moves away from them: in this expanded consciousness, one finds oneself to be “a power never dreamt of before.” Because “I am” is “the resurrection and the life,” Goddard locates the power to make one’s appear in your world in personal identification with their fulfillment: when feelings of desired states (like wealth, freedom, strength) become fixed within, one’s “formless being will take upon itself the forms of the things felt,” and Goddard describes this as becoming “crucified upon the feelings” of these qualities and “buried in the stillness of these convictions.” He promises that “as a thief in the night,” these qualities will be resurrected in one’s world as living reality.

Goddard reinterprets (at ~55:45) the story of Daniel in the lion’s den as a manifestation principle, explaining that Daniel turned his back on the lions (problems) and looked toward the light (desired state). He instructs readers that when in the “den” of poverty or sickness, they should remove attention from problems and dwell instead upon what they seek, promising that by not looking back in consciousness to problems, but continuing in faith, “prison walls” will open and desires will be realized. Illustrating this promised result, Goddard recounts (at ~57:08) the biblical story of the widow with three drops of oil who, following the prophet’s instructions, poured from these drops into many vessels. He interprets the reader as this widow—in a “barren state” without a husband to make them fruitful. He explains that awareness is now the “Lord or prophet” that has become your husband, instructing readers to follow the widow’s example by recognizing something (three drops of oil) rather than nothingness, going within and “closing the door” to sensory evidence of emptiness, and feeling the joy of having received what is desired.

In his conclusion, Goddard declares (at ~59:06) that “recognition is the power that conjures in the world.” He explains that everything one has ever recognized, they have embodied, and what one recognizes as true today becomes their experience. He encourages readers to be like the widow and recognize joy, no matter how small the beginning, promising generous rewards. As the biblical declaration “I am the Lord thy God, which have brought thee out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage” (Exodus 20:2) reveals, acknowledging awareness itself as “the Lord thy God” allows one to “decree the unseen to appear” and thereby fulfill our every desire.

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We need not review Goddard’s published works any further today: as you may have noticed, he tends to cycle his themes. But in the interest of making this “journal” more complete, let’s turn to a lecture on the Book of Job—a text containing themes with which this year has made me deeply acquainted—that Goddard gave in approximately the 1960s.

Goddard opens by insisting that the Book of Job is everyone’s story, a three-act drama—prologue, dialogue, epilogue—in which a “cruel plot” is carried out against a man who has done nothing wrong. But in his reading, it isn’t Satan but God who authors Job’s suffering: he points to Job 42:11, where Job’s family comforts him for “all the evil that the Lord had brought upon him,” and argues (‎at ~1:53) that the brief appearance of Satan in the first two chapters is a literary device inserted later to “soften the blow” against God. On the whole, he frames the Book of Job as an exploration of suffering without any notion of karma, reincarnation, or retributive justice, instead portraying God as subjecting Job—and, by extension, all of us—to “furnaces of affliction” for the sake of purification, like gold in fire.

Of course, the narrative strips Job of everything: messengers arrive to report his livestock gone, servants killed, and finally his children crushed in a collapsing house. Job’s response—“Naked came I out of my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return […] the Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord” (Job 1:21)—is held up as an almost impossible standard of faith. Then comes the last blow: Job is smitten with boils from head to foot, shunned by everyone, yet still not sinning with his lips. From the second chapter onward, he becomes “the most impatient being in the world,” rehearsing his good works and clinging to a “law of retribution”: if he has been righteous, he deserves acquittal. Godard argues that this mindset is precisely what the book dismantles: echoing Jesus’ words about the man born blind—“Neither hath this man sinned, nor his parents: but that the works of God should be made manifest in him” (John 9:3)—he insists that suffering is not payback for sin. “Were it not for infinite mercy,” he says (at ~12:13), “no one could be saved—because you can’t earn it.”

What struck me most is how he ties Job’s arc to our own shift from inherited religion to direct encounter. Job begins with second-hand faith—“I have heard of thee by the hearing of the ear”—and ends with “but now mine eye seeth thee” (Job 42:5), which Goddard reads as the move from received doctrine to lived experience. He notes (‎at ~17:07) that the very name “Job” can be rendered “Where is my father?” or “Where is the altar of my life?”, capturing the way suffering drives us to ask where God actually is in all of this. He insists that the “way to the Father” which Christ identified in John 14:6 is a pattern of mystical experiences known only to the Son, through which God, having “sheathed Himself in humanity,” brings out of us what He conceived from the beginning—His own image.

In this framework, Goddard tells us (at ~32:37), repentance isn’t groveling, but “a radical change of attitude toward life.” As examples of repentance, he offers wartime and workplace stories of a man whose antisemitism and racism were shattered when his life was twice saved—first by a Jewish soldier in New Guinea, then by a Black coworker in a factory fire. For him, these are not random coincidences but orchestrated “positions” in which God kills our delusions and prejudices.

Taken all together, Goddard presents a God who is both terrifying and merciful, conceiving the “most cruel experiment in the world” but nonetheless promising salvation to the test subjects. Job’s restoration, he notes, comes not from arguing his righteousness but from a change of heart when, in Job 42:10, he prays for his friends—men who had defended a God of retribution—and his own captivity is lifted. Goddard contrasts (at ~53:07) the persistent human craving for payback with Jesus’ plea, “Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do” on the cross (Luke 23:34). The fire that burns us, he says, is the same fire that refines gold: if gold could feel, it would scream in the furnace, but only that heat can separate it from its dross so it can be shaped into something beautiful. In that light, Job’s own words—“shall we receive good at the hand of God, and shall we not receive evil?” (Job 2:10)—stop sounding masochistic and start reading like a hard-won trust.

The takeaway I’m left with is simple and bracing: if Job is my biography, suffering is not a moral invoice, and my task is not to ask “Why me?” but to change my attitude—to use imagination and faith to extricate myself from the pit I’ve found myself in, and trust that, as Goddard puts it (at ~41:23–41:44),

Be patient. Our playwright may show in some fifth act what this wild drama means. And He will. And then you will see everyone will come out and everyone will be perfect, and all will be God, nothing but God. For it takes this most horrible play as described in Job to produce it.

But… what do we do in the interval? (“Compare Goddard’s ‘awareness of being’ to the capital-B Being of Martin Heidegger?” Nope—not this time, anyway!)

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If Liberation Vitalism was my attempt to say life is worth fighting for, then Goddard and Job together feel like an answer for what we do when life starts fighting back. Meanwhile, the Shroud, with its incredible image lending credence to the biblical resurrection; Goddard’s insistence that “I am” is not a slogan but an engine of creation; Job’s refusal to curse God even when everything collapses—in some way, these all circle the same point: that consciousness, suffering, and grace are somehow entangled in a way no manifesto can quite resolve.

I don’t pretend to have unknotted that tangle: I’m still trying to learn how to “fish in consciousness” while the lions in the den pace and snarl. But if the Book of Job really is my biography, then at least I know this isn’t the epilogue, just somewhere in the middle acts—one more furnace in which lingering impurities are burning off.

In the meantime, I’ll keep trying to match my politics to my life, to trust my life to reflect my budding faith, and (I suppose) to fasten my faith to the declarative “I am.” If you’ve been in your own pit this year, I hope some part of this helped you feel a little less alone, and reminded you that the fifth act hasn’t run yet. So, we might as well hope for our own resurrections—after all, we can see from the Shroud that stranger things have happened.

A little more than two weeks ago, the Norwegian Nobel Committee awarded the 2025 Nobel Peace Prize to María Corina Machado—Venezuela’s leading opposition figure and mentor to the opposition candidate Edmundo González defeated in the 2024 election—as a stalwart champion of democratic principles against authoritarianism. Of course, that characterization flies in the face of her participation in a 2002 coup attempt that declared the Venezuelan constitution null and void, and she receives the Peace Prize despite her past calls for foreign military intervention against President Nicolás Maduro, whom (as Radio Free Pizza covered last year) the country’s own National Electoral Council (CNE) and international observers (including the U.S.’s National Lawyers Guild [NLG]) named the legitimate winner of the country’s 2024 presidential election, citing transparent electoral procedures with strong audit mechanisms, biometric verification, and paper backups.

From an ideological standpoint, Radio Free Pizza celebrated Maduro’s win as a victory against imperialism and a model for our own aspirational vision of “Libertarian Communism” in the U.S.—a system combining worker ownership, national resource control, and local democratic governance inspired by Chávez’s Bolivarian Revolution. Meanwhile, supporters argued that Maduro’s economic recovery program, diversification efforts, and resistance to sanctions had restored growth (now at 17 straight quarters, and 9% in Q3 2025) and sharply reduced inflation. They saw his victory as proof of the resilience of Bolivarian socialism, Venezuela’s integration into the multipolar BRICS+ bloc, and the failure of U.S. efforts to topple the government.

Of course, Washington can’t have any of that. Accordingly, the second Trump Administration has followed in the steps of the first, continuing to posture against Venezuela since February, when it designated the Venezuelan prison gang and international crime syndicate Tren de Aragua as a terrorist organization. That gave the administration its pretext for increasing U.S. naval deployments in the Caribbean Sea in August—and in the same month announcing an increased bounty of up to $50 million for information leading to the arrest of President Maduro—before conducting its first “kinetic strike” against an alleged Venezuelan drug-trafficking vessel in September, extrajudicially killing eleven. Now, as of last Friday, the U.S. has conducted ten such strikes in the past two months, raising the known-death toll to forty-three.

But this American belligerence hasn’t proceeded unopposed. At the start of this month, a bipartisan Senate resolution to halt President Donald Trump’s military strikes on alleged Venezuelan drug traffickers narrowly failed, 51–48. The measure, led by Sen. Tim Kaine (D-VA) and supported by Sen. Rand Paul (R-KY) and Sen. Lisa Murkowski (R-AK), sought to reassert Congress’s war powers, arguing that the strikes—conducted without congressional authorization—were unconstitutional. Democrats and Republicans alike accused the Trump Administration of bypassing established maritime interdiction protocols, with lawmakers from both parties saying it has provided no proof of the victims’ identities or ties to narcotics trafficking.

Meanwhile, though one can easily forgive observers for interpreting the Nobel Committee’s award to Machado as support for U.S. aggression—given her aforementioned calls for military intervention—this imperial adventurism naturally has its international critics. Earlier this month, Colombian President Gustavo Petro contradicted Trump Administration claims that U.S. military struck boats trafficking drugs for Tren de Aragua, saying that at least one vessel hit had been carrying Colombian civilians.

Then, the United Nations Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights last week published a press release describing how its experts condemned the U.S.’s covert actions and military threats against Venezuela, saying they had been carried out with no legal justification and calling them violations of Venezuela’s sovereignty, international law, and the UN Charter. Rejecting claims of self-defense against groups like Tren de Aragua, noting that these organizations are not attacking the U.S., the office urged Washington to end unlawful operations, respect international law, and pursue dialogue and peaceful solutions instead of a regime change that could destabilize the region.

Still, despite domestic and international condemnation, U.S. aggression has only increased. Just three days after the UNOHCHR press release, President Trump announced that U.S. forces are “coming in by land” in Venezuela, escalating his anti-narcotics campaign into what critics view as a potential act of war. At a White House press conference, President Trump called Latin American drug cartels “the ISIS of the Western Hemisphere,” saying he would not seek a declaration of war but would “kill people that are bringing drugs into our country.”

Though he won’t seek a declaration of war, the U.S. seems prepared to wage one, having now deployed nearly 10,000 troops, 10 warships, a nuclear submarine, and the USS Gerald R. Ford aircraft carrier to the Caribbean—its largest force presence there in decades. President Trump also claimed to have authorized covert CIA operations in Venezuela and—probably just out of spite for undermining his claims on the international stage—he added the aforementioned President Petro to the U.S. sanctions (OFAC) list after calling him a “drug leader.” But the U.S. intelligence community would most likely contradict President Trump, since it already contradicted his earlier claims that President Maduro directs Tren de Aragua. Meanwhile, the aforementioned Sen. Rand Paul challenged President Trump’s claims about the threat that the criminal syndicate poses to the American public, noting that fentanyl isn’t produced in Venezuela and that the attacked boats lacked the range to reach U.S. shores, and therefore calling the Administration’s rationale logistically implausible.

Given Washington’s deepening descent into unilateral militarism against a sovereign Venezuela, the Nobel Committee’s recognition of the coup-plotting Machado (whom Hugo Chávez once mocked as “a little bourgeoise”) hints at the imperial playbook in the South American theater: invade the country under the pretext of a “war on narco-terrorism” and install as its president a free-market conservative who welcomes the U.S. intervention and who will then dutifully privatize the country. (Coincidentally—or not—courts will hear final arguments on Tuesday about conflicts of interest in the auction of Citgo Petroleum’s parent company, PDV Holding, a state-owned enterprise belonging to the Bolivarian Republic of Venezuela. So maybe a U.S. invasion is on hold until the court renders its ruling.) That, of course, follows the tried-and-true choreography of Western imperialist interventions throughout South America and the rest of the world.

As Radio Free Pizza has long argued, the struggle unfolding in Venezuela is not merely about one government or one ideology, but about the right of nations to chart their own course free from coercion. Whether the world drifts toward yet another manufactured war or moves instead toward genuine multipolar cooperation will depend on how firmly the peoples of the Americas—and especially those within the U.S.—insist on dialogue over domination, law over violence, and self-determination over empire. But if in the coming months or years the world sees a President Machado of Venezuela, it won’t be because she won an election.

Since Bitcoin’s launch in 2009, cryptocurrency has slowly reshaped the contours of money and finance—blurring the lines between technology and currency, decentralization and control, speculation and strategy.

That could be by design: longtime Radio Free Pizza gourmets may recall our Bitcoin Pizza Day bulletin in May of last year, in which we explored the recurring theory that Bitcoin may have been created by the American deep state through the cryptography research of the National Security Agency (NSA), linking BTC to: a 1996 NSA paper on “digital gold”; the SHA-256 algorithm that originated with the NSA; and speculation around Satoshi Nakamoto’s true identity residing with the cypherpunks who worked with U.S. intelligence. Then, in a January spectacle, we spoke with Golden Monarch of Golden Monarch Domain about the political implications of cryptocurrency. Once an early crypto investor, Golden Monarch now critiques the industry as a scheme co-opted by elites, financial institutions, and intelligence agencies. He traces Bitcoin’s shift from a revolutionary idea to a tool for surveillance and control, noting how figures like RFK Jr., Tulsi Gabbard, Michael Saylor, and Donald Trump helped mainstream it alongside Wall Street players such as BlackRock and Coinbase, and warns of a coordinated push toward Central Bank Digital Currencies (CBDCs) and a cashless society.

Since then, dozens of public companies—including Trump Media & Technology Group—have begun adopting digital asset treasury strategies, following MicroStrategy’s example of using corporate reserves and leverage to buy Bitcoin. The trend, fueled by soaring crypto prices and friendlier U.S. policy under President Trump, has attracted firms from energy to consumer goods, though analysts warn the volatility could spark liquidity risks if prices fall.

More recently, the mainstreaming of cryptocurrency on Wall Street resulted in notable fireworks this week as three very different companies—Eightco Holdings, CaliberCos Inc., and QMMM Holdings—all delivered eye-popping stock moves. Each story has its own twist, but they all share one theme: crypto-fueled speculation colliding with shaky fundamentals.

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The first jaw-dropping move came from Eightco Holdings (then trading as OCTO) on Tuesday after the company announced a $250 million private placement alongside a $20 million strategic investment from BitMine Immersion Technologies to launch the world’s first Worldcoin (WLD) treasury strategy. The proceeds will fund the adoption of Worldcoin as Eightco’s primary treasury reserve asset, with cash and Ethereum as secondary reserves. The transaction, led by MOZAYYX with participation from investors including World Foundation, Discovery Capital, Pantera, Kraken, and others, also brings Dan Ives—noted Wall Street analyst and AI expert—in as Chairman of the Board. According to the press release, BitMine’s investment is part of its “Moonshot” strategy to support Ethereum-aligned innovations, with leadership citing the World Foundation’s zero-knowledge Proof of Human (PoH) technology as essential for trust in the AI era. Co-founded by Sam Altman of OpenAI infamy, Worldcoin has already created nearly 16 million PoH accounts across 45 countries using its iris-scanning Orb hardware.

Though the announcement came at 6:48 a.m. EST, shares of OCTO (now ORBS) had been rising markedly for over an hour in premarket trading, surging from $1.81 at 4 a.m. to reach a high of $83.12 in the first hour of the regular session for a 4,487.29% increase. While the combination of a crypto pivot and fresh leadership was enough to spark a frenzy, but beneath the surface, the story looks far less shiny: Eightco has no analyst coverage, and TipRanks’ AI engine rates the stock as only Neutral, with a one-year target of $1.50—a fraction of where it traded post-spike. The AI cites negative cash flow, unattractive valuation metrics, and ongoing capital-raising needs. Accordingly, TipRanks writer Ben Yoffe judged it the definition of a hype-driven rocket, with fundamentals suggesting caution for anyone thinking beyond the next headline.

Of course, ORBS still closed on Friday at $15.24 compared to the previous week’s close of $1.47. Not too shabby, for a company that on 20 August reported net losses of $2.15 per diluted share for the second quarter of 2025.

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Next, CaliberCos Inc. stock (CWD) exploded this past Wednesday after the real estate and digital asset management firm unveiled it had taken the first steps in its Digital Asset Treasury (DAT) Strategy, confirming it had completed an initial purchase of Chainlink (LINK) tokens. The initiative calls for consistent, incremental LINK acquisitions funded by cash reserves, an existing credit line, and equity issuance, with the goal of building a material position that generates both long-term appreciation and staking yield. CEO Chris Loeffler emphasized a disciplined, institutional approach designed to ensure proper custody, tax, accounting, and governance infrastructure.

Shares of CWD surged immediately with the announcement, rising from $2.20 at 7:30 a.m. EST to reach a high of $56.06 in the next hour-and-a-half—a 2,452.73% increase—before selling off for the rest of the day to close regular trading hours at $9.11, up 130% on the day. Besides these gains, Caliber’s announcement also allows it to claim bragging rights as the first Nasdaq-listed company to center its treasury policy on Chainlink. Investing.com reports that Loeffler called it a “disciplined, institutional approach” to building a LINK position, with funding coming from a mix of cash reserves, an existing credit line, and equity issuance. Over time, Caliber intends to expand its holdings, generate yield through staking, and give shareholders direct exposure to the Chainlink ecosystem. That positioning at the intersection of real assets and digital assets sparked huge investor enthusiasm, but it also raises questions about long-term execution and the risks of mixing corporate balance sheets with volatile crypto assets.

CWD’s surge certainly reflects the growing investor appetite for corporate crypto plays. However—like the aforementioned Yoffe wrote about ORBS—Investing.com cautions its readers that fundamentals and follow-through will matter more than the initial headline. But after closing the previous week at $2.07 and finishing on Friday at $7.79, the company has still had similar success despite having also reported in August second quarter losses amounting, in its case, to $3.87 per diluted share.

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But the wildest of the past week’s “crypto pivot” trades was QMMM Holdings, a Hong Kong-based digital media advertising and virtual avatar technology company, that on the same day announced its strategic expansion into the cryptocurrency sector with plans to integrate artificial intelligence and blockchain to build a decentralized data marketplace and crypto-autonomous ecosystem, enabling AI-driven analytics to support traders and power automated agents for tasks such as a Decentralized Autonomous Organization (DAO) treasury management, metaverse experiences, and smart contract security. As part of this initiative, QMMM will establish a diversified cryptocurrency treasury targeting Bitcoin, Ethereum, and Solana, with an initial goal of $100 million. CEO Bun Kwai said the move underscores QMMM’s commitment to innovation, regulatory compliance, and ecosystem partnerships as it seeks to bridge the digital economy with real-world applications.

That day, QMMM’s shares opened regular trading hours at $14.95 and rose through as many as ten trading halts to a high of $303.00 in the last hour of trading, rocketing as much as 3,816% before sliding back in after-hours and over the rest of the week. Of course, it was an amazing run—but such gains look especially anomalous knowing that, as Anders Bylund reported for The Motley Fool, QMMM raised only $8 million in June by nearly quadrupling its share count, and before this week, it was fighting off delisting notices with shares as low as $0.54. That makes the funding ambitions look shaky at best, and the sudden market cap leap to nearly $5 billion looks hard to justify. Indeed, the setup feels eerily similar to the 2016 wave of companies pivoting to “blockchain” just to juice stock prices. Many of those stories ended in collapse, and skeptics argue QMMM could meet the same fate without a real business plan.

QMMM’s pop may go down as one of the year’s biggest, but in Bylund’s estimation, it also screams “buyer beware.” Unless management shows credible execution, the long-term outlook is highly questionable—and we have little guidance from the company, from which the most recent earnings available extend only to 31 March 2025, having been made available in August, with estimated losses of $0.17 per diluted share for twelve trailing months. Nonetheless, after closing the previous week at $7.60, QMMM ended Friday’s regular session at $73.28, showing again that speculators don’t care too much about fundamentals.

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But these strategic decisions from (formerly?) small-cap companies might reflect a great deal of care about the fundamentals of the global monetary system, which Taylor Kenney outlined for ITM Trading this past week.

Here, Kenney presents claims that Anton Kobyakov, a senior advisor to Russian President Vladimir Putin, has exposed a U.S. scheme to manage its $37 trillion debt burden, having stated at the Eastern Economic Forum that the U.S. plans to move its debt into cryptocurrency, devalue it, and then reset the system with gold revaluation. Kenney warns this would impact not just cryptocurrency users but the entire dollar system, affecting savings, retirement funds, and paychecks.

Kenney discusses (at ~1:14) how President Trump signed the Genius Act, creating regulatory frameworks for stablecoins: cryptocurrencies pegged to real-world assets like the dollar. While publicly presented as innovation to keep the U.S. competitive, Kenney suggests this legislation could be the foundation for using stablecoins as a “lifeline” for U.S. debt, while also referencing concerns (similar to those that Golden Monarch expressed about CBDCs) that stablecoins could be a “Trojan horse” for financial control over Americans, potentially limiting freedom and privacy.

Since U.S. debt exceeds $37 trillion, Kenney notes (at ~2:12) the country faces a “buyer’s crisis” with foreign central banks dumping treasuries and moving to gold, indicating declining trust in the dollar. This creates higher yields and interest rates, making it harder for the U.S. to manage its debt. Kenney suggests stablecoins backed by U.S. treasuries could create artificial demand for U.S. debt, providing a needed lifeline for the system.

Elaborating on Kobyakov’s claim, Kenney observes (at ~4:03) that once enough U.S. debt is tokenized into stablecoins, they could be depegged or devalued: for example, instead of maintaining a 1:1 ratio with USD, they might be revalued at 1:0.50, causing holders to lose 50% of their wealth while significantly reducing the U.S. debt burden without officially declaring default. This devaluation would affect all dollar-denominated assets, including savings, retirement funds, and paychecks—echoing some of the historical U.S. financial maneuvers that Kenney details (at ~4:59), including gold confiscation in the 1930s—when President Roosevelt revalued gold from $20.67 to $35 per ounce, effectively reducing the dollar’s purchasing power by 41%—and a U.S. “default” in the 1970s when President Nixon ended the dollar's convertibility to gold, after which Americans lost half their purchasing power to inflation over the following decade. Kenney suggests these events demonstrate how gold provides true wealth protection during currency devaluations.

Kenney goes on to discuss (at ~6:53) Kobyakov's claim that the U.S. is trying to “rewrite the rules with gold,” referencing U.S. Secretary of the Treasury Scott Bessent’s discussions about gold revaluation and a Federal Reserve research note from last month on how nations have used gold revaluations to help pay off debt. The presenter suggests a possible two-pronged approach: first, offloading debt into stablecoins before devaluing them, and, second, implementing an official gold revaluation to restore trust in the American system, potentially driving gold prices to “tens of thousands of dollars.” Accordingly, Kenny predicts (at ~8:02) that public awareness of this alleged scheme could accelerate central banks’ historic pace of gold buying as nations position themselves for a financial reset. She predicts countries might rapidly offload U.S. treasuries while BRICS+ nations could make strategic moves to position themselves at the center of a new financial system, and quotes Kobyakov saying “the world is moving away from fiat money and dividing into zones”—or, perhaps we might say, regional blocs.

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Certainly, any efforts to offload U.S. debt into stablecoins (and there devalue it) would make Bitcoin’s hypothesized origins with the NSA into a masterstroke of geopolitical maneuvering that would allow the U.S. to maintain its preeminence in the global financial system. In that case, the three companies profiled above would be getting ahead of the game, and investors would be wisely rewarding them for it. One wishes, of course, that the U.S. would prioritize real needs like reparations and healthcare over digital currency hype, as Golden Monarch advocated in January, but it seems worldwide financial dominance is the deep state’s greater priority, as it has been since long before the NSA or anyone else introduced cryptocurrency to the public.

But regardless of any speculations about Bitcoin’s origins, the week’s wild stock surges and the warnings about a looming U.S. debt reset all point toward the same truth: cryptocurrency is no longer a sideshow, but a central theater in the struggle over the future of money. Whether deployed as corporate hype, institutional hedge, or geopolitical lever, digital assets are now woven into the fabric of global finance, where questions of trust, power, and survival collide. The challenge, then—for investors, citizens, and states alike—is to discern whether crypto represents a path to liberation, or merely a tool of control in disguise.

Dear Radio Free Pizza gourmets,

This summer, yours truly took a road trip from Minneapolis to Chicago for the Great Unity Convention of the Center for Political Innovation (CPI) on 12 July 2025 to show my support for the organization, its opposition to globalism and imperialism, and its advocacy for domestic and international peace. I didn’t speak onstage, but I waved an American flag, confident that it matched my shirt.

As a sociopolitical education project and community dedicated to advancing an optimistic, pro-growth, anti-imperialist vision, CPI emphasizes what people can achieve collectively, advocating for development, collaboration, and the use of resources for the common good. Together—because it’s definitely something I’d sign off on—we propose a Four-Point Plan to Rescue America:

1. Mass mobilization to rebuild the nation’s infrastructure and educational institutions, employing millions at union wages and revamping universities while coordinating national resources through a detailed five-year plan.

2. Public ownership of natural resources, arguing that profits from oil, gas, coal, and timber should serve the people rather than enrich corporations and Wall Street monopolists.

3. Public control of banking, replacing profit-driven lending with a network of national, state, and local banks to direct credit toward long-term growth, while also calling for a debt jubilee to end economic stagnation.

4. Adopting an Economic Bill of Rights, echoing FDR’s vision of guaranteeing jobs, housing, education, and healthcare for all. CPI concludes that America’s economic crisis stems from a system that enriches monopolies and bankers at the expense of communities, fosters poverty amidst abundance, and risks global war.

Rejecting the ruling elite’s vision of “de-growth,” CPI calls for a government of action that empowers working families, unleashes human creativity, and ensures prosperity and abundance for everyone, as Caleb Maupin—the ideological leader of CPI, whom longtime readers will surely recall—made clear in his opening speech.

Maupin began with philosophical references (at ~4:03–8:22) from Confucianism, Karl Marx, and biblical texts to illustrate humanity’s capacity to build a better world free from suffering and oppression. He quoted from the Book of Rites about Confucius’ vision of a world “shared by all alike,” where the elderly, able-bodied, young, widows, orphans, and sick are all properly cared for. He connected this to Marx’s vision of a communist society where labor becomes “life’s prime want” and society operates on the principle “from each according to his ability, to each according to his needs.” Maupin noted that Marx’s phrase was a biblical allusion to the Book of Acts. He emphasized that throughout human history, there has been an understanding that humanity has the capacity to build a better world free from suffering and oppression.

Of course, that contrasts with the reality we face today, in which Maupin describes (at ~8:58–10:34) that human progress has been held back by “a small group of bankers and billionaires in Wall Street and in London” who maintain their power by “keeping the world poor and sowing chaos and instability.” He references various terms for this system, including “the English system” (used by Henry Charles Carey, advisor to Abraham Lincoln), “imperialism, the highest stage of capitalism” (Vladimir Lenin’s term), and contemporary Russian and Chinese discussions of “geopolitics and civilizations of the land and empires of the sea.” Maupin identifies this system as “the main barrier to human progress” preventing humanity from building a better world.

For that reason, Maupin tells us (at ~10:35), CPI has dedicated itself “to trying to build a movement here in the United States to oppose globalism-imperialism. We need a government of action to fight for working families,” arguing (at ~10:51) that the only viable future for the U.S. requires it join the “new economy” rising around the world through initiatives like BRICS, the Belt and Road Initiative, and the Eurasian Economic Union. That, of course, conflicts the country’s current trajectory of stoking international conflicts while its domestic infrastructure crumbles, despite widespread understanding across domestic political divides that American leadership isn’t working in the interests of ordinary people.

Maupin goes on (at ~13:12–26:51) to detail the many activities CPI has undertaken over the past year, including: publishing a book about Kamala Harris that was briefly banned by Amazon; distributing literature at the Democratic National Convention; launching Operation PeaceMAGA to emphasize antiwar themes during Trump’s campaign; sponsoring the “Rage Against the War Machine 2” protest; supporting the Uhuru movement in Florida during their legal battles; and demonstrating in solidarity with Palestinians, with the Houthis of Yemen, and with Burkina Faso’s leader Ibrahim Traore, whom he praises as a prime example of pro-growth leadership—of the innovationism for which CPI exists to advocate.

Additionally, he stresses (at ~27:11–31:31) the importance of rejecting political violence, arguing that “if there’s one thing that will prevent a real mass movement, bringing the country together, it'll be violence and killing.” He references historical examples from Italy in the 1970s-80s and from Jamaica in the 1980s where political violence led to demoralization and prevented positive change, and suggests that the “celebration and glorification of political violence we’re seeing all across social media is not accidental” but rather “an operation to demoralize, to make the population weary.” For that reason, Maupin criticizes the Party for Socialism and Liberation (PSL), which planned a demonstration during Trump’s second inauguration that could have facilitated “another bloodbath in Washington, DC” to match that from his first inauguration in 2017. But CPI put out a press release and Maupin appeared on George Galloway’s Mother of All Talk Shows calling on the PSL to cancel the demonstration, and suggesting that their efforts contributed to the fact that there was no bloodbath during the inauguration.

Naturally, such political violence would only work against any efforts to build a mass movement of people working together in communities, building solidarity and taking real action. In the interest of such, Maupin emphasizes (at ~31:27–34:08) that “podcasts don’t cut it” and stresses the importance of people who “rely on each other and can work together, can learn together, can be patient with each other and can get things done,” wisely observing that “sometimes the people who agree with you can be completely useless” while “sometimes people you might not agree with, but you have some common ground around, they can be the most helpful and important people.” Accordingly, he tells us, CPI plans to establish “a building, an organizing center here in the Chicago area” to organize in communities and build “the anti-imperialist network that is definitely needed to get the United States into the new economy” before yielding the stage for an awards ceremony to honor Kabula Mutombo of the Uhuru Movement for defending civil liberties in U.S. courts, Libertarian Party Chair Angela McArdle for her leadership in antiwar protests, Rev. Miilhan Stephens of the Boston Family Church for his advocacy of Korean reunification.

Mutombo received the award in honor of the African People’s Socialist Party and the Uhuru Movement it leads for its proud resistance to FBI raids and to the political prosecution of the Uhuru 3 (Omali Yeshitela, Penny Hess, and Jesse Nevel) under the Foreign Agents Registration Act. Introducing him, CPI member John McCarthy—himself a recipient of a “Voice of Resistance Award” or his consistent advocacy for the Uhuru 3 case since the FBI raids in July 2022—provides (at ~6:07–15:53) extensive details about the case against the Uhuru 3, explaining that Chairman Omali Yeshitela was charged as a Russian agent for giving speeches about Black liberation and reparations, and for having connections with Russian political organizations. McCarthy highlights how the jury inconsistently acquitted the defendants of being Russian agents but found them guilty of conspiracy charges, and emphasizes that the defendants were sentenced to community service, essentially what they were already doing in their communities—such as with their response to a current crisis in St. Louis, where tornado damage was being used as pretext to displace Black residents from North St. Louis by tagging houses and cutting power to force residents out in the interest of expanding the National Geospatial Intelligence Agency facility. The Uhuru Movement organized community efforts to repair homes and resist the residents’ displacement.

Taking the stage (at ~16:25–24:04) to accept the award, Kabula Mutombo describes the FBI raids that occurred three years prior, when SWAT teams and armored vehicles broke into their homes at 5:47 AM, pointing rifles at children and seizing laptops and archives. He explains they were targeted for saying “the U.S. is an imperialist power, that Africa deserves reparations, that African people charge the U.S. with genocide” and details the lack of evidence in the government’s case, noting that their own FBI agent admitted there was “zero evidence” that anyone in the Uhuru Movement took any orders from Russia. Mutombo also describes the movement’s response to the charges, including door-to-door organizing, flyer distribution, and 1,600 letters written to the court in support of the Uhuru 3. He emphasizes that the jury found them not guilty on the main charge before connecting their struggle to other global issues, telling us (at ~22:48) that,

The same FBI targeting us raids Palestinian organizers. The same State Department funding exploitation of Congo […] and the rest of the colonized peoples of the world. The same system that jails Julian Assange tries to silence us all. But when we fight, we win. When we fight, Haiti rises; when we organize, Congo resists; when we win, the empire trembles.

Accordingly, the Uhuru Movement’s legal victory was important not just for the defendants, but for protecting free speech rights for all Americans who oppose war and advocate international cooperation—among whom stands Angela McArdle, the Libertarian Party Chair who received the next award.

Honored for her efforts organizing the Rage Against the War Machine rally in early 2023, which brought together people from across the political spectrum to oppose U.S. involvement in the Ukraine war, McArdle first expresses (at ~5:25–9:51) her appreciation for CPI’s efforts to bridge political divides, and observes that anti-war sentiment among the American populace seems to be reaching new heights.

McArdle goes on to describe (at 10:57–14:43) her own experience organizing the anti-war rally while seven months pregnant, eventually hosting it with her two-and-a-half-month-old baby, calling the rally an “issue coalition project” that united people from different political backgrounds, particularly libertarians and communists, before humorously noting that working with communists was “so much easier” than working with some members of her own party. Still, she details challenges faced while planning the rally, including a controversy surrounding one of the invited speakers that nearly derailed the entire event. But despite social media conflicts and threats of counter-protests, they managed to overcome these obstacles and host what she describes as a “wildly successful event” that “changed public perception of the war in Ukraine.”

She also shares (at ~14:50–25:36) lessons learned from working with the political left, particularly praising their discipline, long-term planning, and ability to maintain focus on goals. McArdle advises all those committed to political organizing that they maintain cheerfulness in activism work despite dealing with serious issues like war, noting that the pleasant working environment with passionate volunteers gave her energy to continue with difficult work. (Only with such dedication, of course, can she celebrate victories like President Trump fulfilling the promise he made to her to pardon Ross Ulbricht.) Using Star Wars as a metaphor, McArdle also discusses the importance of intergenerational knowledge transfer and leadership succession. She criticizes the boomer generation, specifically mentioning Nancy Pelosi, for hoarding power rather than mentoring younger leaders, and emphasizes that older anti-war activists need to pass their knowledge to younger generations to maintain a strong movement. Because “peace begins at home,” she reminds us that unity not just across generations but between left and right political factions is crucial—referencing again how the Rage Against the War Machine event fostered unexpected connections between people with different political views—and promises to use her relationship with the Department of Justice to advocate that it drop its opposition to the Uhuru 3’s appeal during her next visit to Washington, DC.

The next award went to Rev. Miilhan Stephens, who humbly accepts it (at ~6:06–16:29) on behalf of the Family Federation and acknowledges his colleagues from the Universal Peace Federation before expressing appreciation for CPI’s fearlessness in stepping outside comfort zones and its approach to peace-building, particularly in “nudging” the boulder of destructive change just enough to shift its course away from our families, loved ones, and as much of humanity as one can preserve, rather than trying fruitlessly to stop it altogether. He defines peace as “the constant pursuit of harmonizing our differences,” rather than simply the absence of conflict, and quotes 1 Corinthians 12:25–26 about unity in shared suffering and rejoicing. Stephens goes on to explain that he’s participating despite his busy travel schedule because he feels called to create a peaceful world for children. He quotes Malachi 4:5–6 about turning the hearts of parents to children and vice versa to avoid destruction, thereby emphasizing the urgency of peace work in the age of artificial intelligence—arguing that we need to teach empathy and goodness rather than just intelligence—before identifying apathy, ignorance, and lethargy as key obstacles to peace.

Regarding specific peace initiatives, Stephens describes (at ~16:36–25:14) a trio of proposals from the Rev. Dr. Sun Myung Moon. First: an ambitious tunnel spanning the Bering Strait to physically link Alaska and Russia, a project dating back to proposals from the late 19th century and modernized by advocates like Moon as part of a global peace highway. Second: the creation of a transboundary peace-and-nature park in Korea’s Demilitarized Zone—an ecologically rich region long untouched by human development—to both preserve its biodiversity and memorializing those fallen on both sides in the Korean War. Third: promoting cross-cultural marriages between people from historically adversarial nations as a grassroots means of bridging divides and fostering peace, underscoring how human-level connections are essential to healing geopolitical rifts.

Clearly this last proposal carries particular meaning for Stephens, who shares his personal connection to cross-cultural marriage, being the child of an American father and Japanese mother whose marriage initially faced rejection from his Japanese grandparents due to post-WWII tensions before the birth of his sister changed his grandparents’ hearts.

Stephens concludes (at ~25:17) his speech—and the convention’s morning session—by sharing stories about Reverend Moon and Mother Moon’s early spiritual experiences. He recounts how Father Moon, after asking God about suffering, felt called to dedicate his life to pursuing world peace despite persecution and imprisonment, while Mother Moon, traumatized as a child during the Korean War, resolved at age seven to devote her life to creating peace—commitments they have both upheld ever since. Accordingly, Stephens challenges the audience to consider their own role in creating peace, telling the audience, “Let’s innovate together.”

Iranian-American activist Seyed Hosseini launched the convention’s afternoon session with a powerful and wide-ranging speech linking Iran’s history, Shia tradition, and global struggles into a call for justice and resistance. Hosseini begins (at ~5:19–9:52) by thanking the audience for being present “not just physically in this room, but emotionally, intellectually and spiritually,” framing the discussion as being about truth, dignity, and “the cost of standing alone when the world demands your silence.” Referencing the convention’s branding (“Working Families First, Defeat the Deep State for a New World of Peace and Innovation”), Hosseini asks what kind of peace is being discussed and who gets to innovate. He argues that peace means different things to different people: for some it’s bombs stopping, for others it’s a ceasefire to bury their children, and for those in power, it often means “total silence, total obedience and total submission […] but […] peace is not the absence of war. Peace is the presence of justice.”

Of course, from the simple mention of a ceasefire, you know that Hosseini’s talking about Palestine. But he’s also talking about Iran, challenging the portrayal of Iran in Western media as a villain, noting that Iran hasn’t started a single war since 1979 despite being “surrounded by bases, bombed, sanctioned, threatened, lied to” for forty-five years. He recounts how in the 1980s, Saddam Hussein invaded Iran with backing from the U.S., European countries, and Arab monarchies, using chemical weapons on Iranian civilians. He emphasizes that Iran survived not because of military might or nuclear weapons, but because of its belief in resistance. He states that what global empires fear most is “a nation that refuses to kneel” and “people who say we will stand alone. We will pay the price, but we will not sell our soul.”

In particular, Hosseini addresses (at ~9:51–12:37) the recurring claims about Iran seeking nuclear weapons, noting that Israel has been claiming since 1992 that Iran is “a year or two away from having nuclear bomb,” with similar claims repeated in 1995, 2003, 2006, 2010, and 2012. He argues that if Iran truly wanted nuclear weapons, it would have them by now. He points out the double standard where Israel possesses nuclear weapons without signing the Non-Proliferation Treaty, allowing inspections, or facing sanctions, while continuing to bomb Syria, threaten Iran, invade Lebanon, and occupy Palestine “and yet somehow it is never the problem.” Ditto the U.S., which claims always that “we are the good guys, we want peace,” despite supporting coups in Latin America, assassinating of elected leaders, overthrowing foreign governments, bombing Cambodia, leaving Afghanistan in ruins, invading Iraq in 2003 “based on a lie,” and destroying Libya.

Naturally, Hosseini argues (at ~14:11–18:40) that real peace doesn’t come from predator drones, sanctions that starve children, or selective outrage where “some lives are sacred and others are disposable.” He acknowledges that Iran isn’t perfect, but defends its support for Palestine, Yemen, and “the oppressed of the world” as stemming from its own experience of isolation. Hosseini links it also to the doctrine of resistance in Shia Islam as a political culture evolved through over a thousand years of oppression, describing how Shia communities historically were marginalized minorities within empires, facing imprisonment, execution, and silencing, yet built a tradition of resistance even when standing alone. He recounts the story of Hussein, grandson of the Prophet Muhammad, who in 680 CE refused to give allegiance to a “corrupt brutal empire” despite being vastly outnumbered. Hussein was killed along with his family, but became “immortal" as a symbol of resistance to tyranny. Hosseini connects Hussein to other revolutionary figures like Che Guevara, describing him as a symbol for anyone who “stands when others choose silence,” while resistance is “something humanity creates every time the powerful abuse the powerless.”

Hosseini then broadens his discussion (at ~18:41–21:42) to resistance movements beyond Iran and Islam. He discusses Latin America, particularly Che Guevara, who abandoned privilege to fight against hunger and colonialism in South America. He lists U.S. interventions in Guatemala in 1954, in Chile in 1973, its occupation of Nicaragua from 1912 to 1933, in El Salvador in the 1980s, in Panama in 1989, and ongoing efforts to subvert Venezuela, asking “What is that if not deep state policy? What is that if not the crushing of resistance?” Accordingly, Hosseini draws parallels between Shia Muslim resistance and Latin American resistance movements, arguing that both were “not about winning battles” but “about not giving in,” and sees the spirit of resistance living on in Palestine, Cuba (which has withstood sixty years of sanctions), and Venezuela.

Which of course would lead almost anyone to ask, did any of that profit the average American? Of course not: turning (at ~21:46–29:38) to domestic American issues, Hosseini discusses economic hardship in California, where even those earning $100,000 annually are considered low income. He contrasts American struggles with the billions in aid sent to Israel ($3.8 billion annually in direct military aid plus $14 billion added recently). He argues this money could provide healthcare for millions, universal pre-K education, or housing vouchers for homeless veterans. Instead, it goes to “an apartheid regime that denies Palestinians the most basic human rights” and an army that receives free healthcare while Americans choose “between groceries or insulin.” He criticizes the political system where questioning foreign aid leads to being labeled “anti-American” or “antisemitic.”

Returning (at ~29:40–32:56) to Palestine, Hosseini rejects claims that the situation is “complicated.” He states plainly: “Colonialism is not complicated. Apartheid is not complicated,” describing neighborhoods leveled in Gaza, ambulances targeted, journalists shot, and basic services blocked. Hosseini asks the audience to imagine their response if someone “kicks you out of your home, burns your village, shoots your brother, imprisons your sister, starves your community.” He points out that international law declares occupation, targeting civilians, settlements, and ethnic cleansing illegal, but these laws are only applied to “poor countries,” “brown countries,” countries without “billion dollars lobbyists”—highlighting the double standard where,

When Israel bombs a hospital, it’s self-defense. When a Palestinian throws a rock, it’s terrorism. When Iran responds to an assassination on its soil, [it’s] destabilizing the region. But when the U.S. assassinates foreign generals in another sovereign country, [it’s] restoring order. I’m sure you see the game by now: it’s not about peace, it’s not about law, it’s about power.

Accordingly, Hosseini implores us (at ~33:32–36:07), “Let’s reclaim this word ‘resistance,’” arguing that it is “not chaos... not hatred... not destruction” but “the most human act in the face of dehumanization.” He describes resistance as workers organizing unions, students refusing silence, families rebuilding after bombings, and cultural expressions like graffiti declaring “we exist” or poetry written behind barbed wire. He defends Iran’s support for resistance groups as standing with “people who fight back when their homes are taken, their families are killed, and their futures erased.” He argues Iran’s stance comes from remembering its own trauma and following a simple doctrine: “Wherever oppression exists, we stand with the oppressed.”

In his conclusion, Hosseini argues (at ~36:13) that the greatest innovation needed today is “moral clarity”: the courage to declare “the system is broken... this empire is killing... this silence is violence.” He connects struggles across locations: “From Karbala to Gaza to Chicago to Caracas to Tehran, we’re all facing the same machine.” He identifies the victims of current policies: Palestinian mothers watching sons die, Iranian children unable to get medication due to sanctions, Yemeni fathers burying families after airstrikes, American nurses unable to afford insulin, teachers working second jobs, Black families in Flint with poisoned water, and Native elders without accessible healthcare. Therefore, Hosseini calls on the audience to “speak now, stand now, resist now” for Palestine and all oppressed peoples, concluding that “resistance is not radical: silence is.”

Next up came CPI member Noah Shenk, whose speech focused on the Houthi movement in Yemen and his outreach efforts following the October 7th events and the Houthis’ blockade of Israeli and American ships in the Red Sea. Describing (at ~2:08–9:56) how he distributed thousands of books about the Houthis at mosques and pro-Palestine rallies, carrying boxes containing 500 books each. Shenk shares that while some people were suspicious or hostile, many eagerly took the books, particularly at a Shia mosque where older members from Iran and Pakistan grabbed copies despite his attempts to be respectful during prayer time. Nonetheless, he criticizes superficial online support for the Houthis, arguing that genuine political positions should come from understanding rather than antagonism, and expresses disappointment with Americans who celebrate potential violence against American servicemen, arguing that people should weep for American servicemen dying for “Israel’s unjust war.” Shenk suggests this reflects a broader cultural problem where people adopt political positions not out of genuine belief but to antagonize others they dislike, comparing it to people who claim to be evangelical Christians but can’t explain Jesus’ teachings.

Providing background (at ~10:14–16:17), Shenk unpacks Yemen’s deep poverty: citing the CIA World Factbook, he states that 25% of Yemen’s population lacks proper access to food and nearly 30% is completely illiterate. Shenk argues that Yemen’s poverty persists despite its natural resource wealth because of “imperialism” or “globalism,” where powerful countries and corporations intentionally underdevelop nations to create captive markets, forcing Yemen to sell crude oil cheaply to Saudi Arabia and buy back refined products at inflated prices. Explaining Yemen’s internal divisions, noting that many Middle Eastern borders were artificially drawn by the British after World War I, Shenk describes how southern Yemen was once a separate country and the only Soviet-style socialist nation in the Middle East, while northern Yemen is predominantly Zaidi Shia, a branch of Islam that Shenk characterizes as a “compromise between Shia and Sunni”: while most Shia Muslims are “Twelvers” who recognize twelve Imams after Prophet Muhammad, Zaidi Shia only recognize five Imams, up to Imam Zayd, who was killed leading an uprising against corrupt rulers and whose body was desecrated as a warning to others.

Shenk then introduces (at ~17:09–23:17) the Houthis as an anti-austerity, self-determination movement founded by Hussein al-Houthi, who launched the “Young Believers” in 1992 to educate impoverished children and promote self-sufficiency. Shenk quotes from Hussein al-Houthi’s sermons about the importance of self-sufficiency and cultivation as a means to independence, arguing that the education programs weren’t “brainwashing” but efforts to help people “self-actualize” and compares the Houthis’ opposition to agricultural policies to Dutch farmers’ protests and Mexican farmers’ struggles under NAFTA. He next recounts how the U.S.-backed Yemeni government became increasingly intolerant of the Houthis after they opposed the Iraq war and criticized the Bush Administration’s “War on Terror” rhetoric. Following a meeting with then-Secretary of State Colin Powell, Yemeni then-President Saleh placed a $55,000 bounty on Hussein al-Houthi’s head. Before his death, Hussein survived a bombing that killed twelve of his followers and gave a final sermon predicting that the Houthis would eventually be the only people with the courage to stand up for Palestinians. After Hussein’s death, his followers embraced the name “Houthi” (previously used as a slur) as a badge of honor.

As Shenk explains (at ~23:34–25:43), the now-proud Houthis proved the courage that their founder predicted long before their blockade of the Red Sea in response to Israel’s genocide in Gaza began in 2023: during the 2010 Arab Spring, which Shenk characterizes as “U.S.-backed chaos,” the Houthis acted as bodyguards protecting protesters against then-President Saleh’s forces. He explains that they built a “progressive coalition” of various groups opposed to austerity and imperialism, including Zaidi Shias, communists from southern Yemen, and even a feminist group led by Layla al-Attar. In 2015, this coalition successfully ousted Saleh and seized the presidential palace, with popular support galvanized by the government’s decision to cut fuel subsidies under pressure from the International Monetary Fund (IMF) and the World Bank.

In what seems to me an inspired connection to draw, Shenk links (at ~26:02) the Houthis to American historical figures and movements. He notes their support for the right to bear arms and their logo featuring a rifle and a shaft of grain symbolizing economic prosperity, and accordingly compares the Houthis’ charitable work and education programs to the Black Panthers’ free breakfast program, their blockade of the Red Sea to the Boston Tea Party, and their religious zeal to abolitionist John Brown. Shenk reads from John Brown’s speech before his execution for leading a slave revolt and urges the audience to see themselves in the Houthi movement, which to him embodies the “real America” that yearns for justice and a better tomorrow.

Continuing the afternoon session, Gavin Lockhart (another CPI member) next took the stage. Lockhart began his speech (at ~2:13–11:53) with an explanation of how his political awareness began with his progressive parents, who had encouraged him to follow current events: as a teenager, he read Wikipedia articles and was introduced to Al Jazeera by his sister. He describes learning that Al Jazeera had fabricated a story about Muammar Gaddafi bombing his own people in Tripoli, which led him to question mainstream media narratives. After calling Libya from the 1970s through 2010 “Africa’s most prosperous democracy”—with free healthcare, education, startup funding for young couples and farmers, and the continent’s largest clean water pipeline project—Lockhart details how Libya was destroyed in 2011 when anti-government riots escalated into an armed uprising, followed by NATO intervention that led to Gaddafi’s death and the country’s destruction. The uneven coverage of those events in alternative media soon led Lockhart to the aforementioned Caleb Maupin, whose article about Libya that resonated enough with him for Lockhart to join SYNA (Students and Youth for a New America), founded by Maupin in 2016 after he leaft the Workers World Party. Lockhart notes that SYNA received criticism from leftists for being patriotic but emphasized that CPI believes in reclaiming patriotism because “we love our country and want to see it become better for everyone.”

During college, Lockhart tells us (at ~11:59–21:02), he became a Christian, and takes pains to address the perceived incompatibility between Christianity and socialism. He cites Martin Luther King, Jr. as an example of a Christian socialist, and shares his experience of having been nonetheless expelled from his local DSA (Democratic Socialists of America) chapter because of his Christian beliefs. Afterward, Lockhart “began to wonder if left and right have become irrelevant categories. I’d strongly agree with Jim Hightower when he said that said today that politics isn’t left versus right, it’s top versus bottom.” While he hastens to add that CPI is not an exclusively communist organization, Lockhart still recognizes communism’s achievements while acknowledging its flaws: he observes that many socialist or anti-imperialist countries today are more religious than Western pro-imperialist countries, citing examples from Cuba, Iran, Venezuela, and Nicaragua; and while China represents an exception among communist countries, with its market-based economy, “it has lifted almost a billion people out of extreme poverty.” That, for Lockhart, demonstrates socialism’s compatibility with Christian values; to underscore it, he quotes Matthew 25:35–36 about helping the hungry, thirsty, strangers, naked, sick, and imprisoned.

Lockhart concludes his speech (at ~21:05) with another example of Christian values, sharing the parable of the Good Samaritan to make a different point: that achieving common goals requires unity across political and religious divides.

The people we’re being taught to hate, just as the Jews were taught to hate the Samaritans, are the people we need and need us in the fight against imperialism and all of the edifices it builds to justify itself. We need to find our commonalities, not what divides us. We need to stop saying that only if you completely agree with every one of our fifty-two points, we can let you into our group. We need to unite to fund healthcare, housing, schools, and to clean up the environment, and to stop funding endless wars. We need to work with everyone who agrees with these goals, whether they’re a conservative Christian like me or a Muslim or any other religion, whether they’re an African nationalist or a libertarian or any other political belief. This is what CPI stands for.

In this way, Lockhart frames CPI’s mission as building a broad, principled coalition that transcends ideological and religious boundaries, uniting all who share a commitment to peace, justice, and the uplift of working families against imperialism—a group of which one should certainly feel proud to call oneself a member.

Next, Geoff Young took the stage, a longtime political activist from Kentucky, the suppression of whom by the Democratic Party of that traditionally Republican state inspired him to co-found the Kentucky Party. Young introduces himself (at~2:29–8:38) as a 45-year resident of Lexington, Kentucky, originally from Massachusetts, and shares his first political thought at age six during the Cuban Missile Crisis, when he questioned the purpose of nuclear weapons and concluded they should be eliminated. He describes his brief libertarian phase in high school before discovering Noam Chomsky’s work, which revealed to him how mainstream media often functions as propaganda regarding U.S. foreign policy and military actions, allowing him to identify spin, falsehoods, and distractions in reporting, in which mainstream media presents “what the system wants you to think” rather than reality. No longer watching television news even to analyze it, today he gets all his information online.

Young then describes (at ~8:41–20:41) working for the Kentucky state government for 15 years before retiring early to become a full-time peace and environmental activist. He began running for office in 2012, initially as a Green Party member, then as a Democrat for U.S. House elections, and later as a Republican in 2020. Young details his experiences with both major parties, stating they employed similar tactics to marginalize his candidacies, including pretending he didn’t exist and providing unreported in-kind contributions to preferred candidates. This led him to file multiple lawsuits against party leadership for election rigging, though all were dismissed by the courts. He describes the pattern of dismissals from circuit courts through the U.S. Supreme Court, with judges consistently ruling that he “failed to state a claim upon which relief can be granted” without substantive analysis. Based on his legal experiences, Young tells us, he concluded that the judicial branch is “by far the most corrupt branch” of government, with judges and lawyers ignoring or violating laws to protect the establishment. He emphasizes that without a functioning legal system, there are no checks and balances.

After telling us of his experience with the major parties, Young recounts (at ~20:42–27:10) the formation of the Kentucky Party in 2024, which he co-founded with Jeff Vesta and Anna Keller. Unlike the Green Party with its extensive platform, the Kentucky Party was established with just two core pillars: being pro-peace (anti-war, anti-nuclear weapons, anti-imperialism, anti-genocide) and anti-corruption in Kentucky. Young describes the Kentucky Party’s inclusive approach, allowing anyone to join and supporting candidates regardless of their positions on other issues. He emphasizes the party’s commitment to organizing debates for all candidates, even if major party candidates refuse to participate, and explains that the party aims to inform voters about their choices rather than having them vote based on inertia or limited information from TV ads.

Young concludes (at ~27:11) by suggesting that similar parties could be established in every state with simple, foundational principles like anti-imperialism, providing alternatives to the two major parties and forums for voter education. He emphasizes the importance of encouraging people to run for office regardless of financial resources, and closed with a philosophical reflection on what truly matters at the end of life—not political affiliations or wealth, but the relationships formed with others.

Of course, when you boil it down, that’s what politics is all about.

Speaking next we heard Keith Preston of Attack the System First describing (at ~3:33–10:02) his early political consciousness beginning in elementary school during the Nixon era, Preston recountss being taken to a Nixon campaign event where children were instructed to chant “We want Nixon,” but he instinctively refused to participate. He also shares his confusion about the Vietnam War as a child, questioning why Americans were being drafted to fight in a foreign conflict. Preston explains how seeing a Vietnam veteran with a prosthetic arm at an amusement park prompted him to ask his father about the draft, leading to his early realization that he opposed government-mandated military service. He continued his contrarian political stance through his youth, supporting Jimmy Carter when his conservative community overwhelmingly favored Republicans.

Detailing (at ~10:03–18:14) his involvement with various radical groups in his twenties, including the Industrial Workers of the World (Wobblies), Workers Solidarity Alliance, anarchists, early Green movement meetings, libertarians, and survivalist communities, Preston explains how he started a public access television show featuring discussions with people from different radical groups. When introduced to the internet, Preston decided to create a website as a “pan-radical, pan-dissident platform” where anti-establishment viewpoints from across the political spectrum could be expressed. The name "attackthesystem.com" was suggested by a young college student who attended their meetings; since then, the site has been running for approximately 25 years, evolving through multiple iterations. Discussing how his platform has influenced others over its 25-year history, Preston describes encountering former readers or associates who have gone on to develop their own political initiatives—sometimes crediting his influence—and mentions receiving messages from people in other countries who have translated his books into languages like Portuguese. Throughout his life, he tells us, he has witnessed a significant “political psychic sea change,” with more people becoming aware of issues like American imperialism, citing the example of increased awareness about the Palestinian struggle and noting that, when he first became a supporter in 1988 after meeting a Palestinian refugee from Lebanon, most Americans had little understanding of the conflict—far less than the populace today.

This leads Preston to draw (at ~18:24–22:25) comparisons between the 19th century and today. He describes the 19th century as a time of rapid change when “pre-modernity really started to fade away” and modernity began to develop. He sees parallels in how industrial capitalism rose then and digital capitalism is rising now, with the imperial center simply moving “from London to Washington.” Preston notes both positive developments (like medical advancements) and negative ones (class polarization, wealth disparities, social dislocations). Just as the 19th century saw the emergence of alternative social visions (utopian socialists, Marxists, anarchists), today we’re witnessing various “niche radical cultures” with overlapping critiques.

Next, Preston analyzes (at ~22:27–34:21) divisions within the American ruling class, identifying three main factions: the liberal northeastern establishment (the “Rockefeller Malthusian wing”), the Sun Belt wing (national industrial bourgeoisie/manufacturing class), and what he calls “new capital” (tech oligarchs, hedge funds, financial entities like BlackRock). He discusses how many tech oligarchs and financial entities have shifted from supporting Democrats to backing Republicans and Trump. Preston suggests that some tech oligarchs have tried to co-opt the MAGA movement for their own ends, citing figures like Peter Thiel and his connection to neoreactionary thinker Curtis Yarvin. He also notes how Zionist plutocrats have “lurched rightward” since the Gaza conflict began, as many on the left embraced the Palestinian cause. But simultaneously, Preston observes with concern that the U.S. has been drifting into “a 19th-century-model class system” with the negative impacts of neoliberalism and globalization, referencing Ross Perot’s warnings about NAFTA creating a “sucking sound” of jobs leaving the country. Preston shares personal experiences with infrastructure failure, including water outages in his city, and warns us that the United States is “falling apart” not only economically but also in terms of its political culture.

Preston concludes his speech (at ~34:22) with a warning about the potential for civil conflict in the U.S. similar to Italy’s “Years of Lead” or Northern Ireland’s “Troubles.” He points to recent political violence, including this summer’s murder of state legislators in Minnesota and assassination attempts against Donald Trump, as warning signs. Preston discusses how different ruling class factions are “trying to tighten their own grip” through measures like weaponizing law enforcement agencies, which he sees as “the kind of stuff that can be a prelude to civil war.” On the international front, he notes the rise of multipolarity (which he views positively) alongside a global trend toward autocracy and increased repression by ruling classes who feel threatened by changing power dynamics. “A lot of ruling classes are worried […] that they’re losing their grip. You know, when a ruling class starts to escalate repression, that shows they’re scared”—which altogether underscores the importance of innovating the political message that can consolidate the masses into a united bloc.

The convention’s keynote speaker was also one who traveled the farthest to attend: David Fox, a boilermaker and union organizer hailing from Australia. In his introduction (at ~1:03–4:33), Fox explains how he learned about class politics from fellow workers on the shop floor, including boilermakers, painters, doctors, and electricians. They taught him fundamental principles: workers have no common interests with employers, and workers must stick together to achieve anything. He proudly describes the Australian union movement’s history of supporting social causes and opposing imperialism, He provides examples including opposition to conscription during World War I, support for Indonesian independence by refusing to load Dutch ships, and dock workers refusing to load pig iron to Japan before World War II in solidarity with Chinese people. He emphasizes how labor actions, including work stoppages, were crucial in Australia’s withdrawal from the Vietnam War. Though he notes infiltration in the movement, likely referring to intelligence agencies like the CIA, which caused damage to labor solidarity, nonetheless Fox tells us how many unionists continued international solidarity work, up to and including recent union contingents supporting Palestine at rallies. He mentions the need for more outreach and education among members who may not fully understand these issues.

Fox goes on to highlight (at ~4:30–7:50) the historical achievements of the Australian labor movement, including being among the first to secure the eight-hour workday on 25 April 1856, when stonemasons in Melbourne marched and ceased work. He notes that Australian unions set benchmarks in occupational health and safety, holidays, and other benefits. He emphasizes that organizing begins with building relationships with ordinary people, and provides the example of an interaction with a Trump voter at his hotel who simply wanted a secure future for their family. He draws parallels to Australia, where similar circumstances exist with cost of living issues and housing crises leading to homelessness. He attributes these problems to neoliberalism and describes witnessing social decay, factory closures, and offshoring of manufacturing over the past 40 years.

Of course, those domestic challenges come paired with imperialist foreign policies: turning (at ~7:51–14:13) to Australia’s partnership with the U.S., Fox criticizes Australia’s commitment to the AUKUS security pact, particularly the $368 billion submarine project. He expresses doubt that Australia will ever see these submarines and explains that the agreement allows the U.S. to take the submarines if war breaks out, noting even former Australian Prime Minister Paul Keating condemned the current government for this agreement, despite the Labor Party being in power. But Australia’s foreign policy has been shackled to U.S. foreign policy, making Australia a potential target in conflicts. Fox naturally questions why Australia is positioning itself against China when China is Australia’s biggest trading partner., and again quotes former Prime Minister Keating who said Australia’s security is “in Asia, not from Asia,” meaning that Australia’s economic future lies with Asia. He therefore argues that imperialism and Anglo-American finance have held Australia back economically.

From there, Fox returns (at ~15:09) to the history of the Australian labor movement: specifically, to the Eureka Rebellion, beginning with gold discoveries in Victoria in 1851 that led to mass migration to the goldfields. The colonial government imposed a gold tax that had to be paid even by those who found no gold and by non-miners like shopkeepers. This led to “monster meetings” of protest, culminating in the unfurling of the Eureka flag on Bakery Hill on 11 November 1854, as an act of defiance against colonial authorities. Then, on 3 December 1854, government forces attacked the miners’ stockade in what became a massacre. Despite the defeat, British authorities feared a full revolution and made concessions, including universal male suffrage. This led to the formation of proper parliaments and fostered the development of the union movement. The Eureka flag became a symbol carried in many subsequent union struggles and represents Australia’s path toward independence—and in a heartwarming act of international solidarity, Fox presents the Eureka flag as a gift to his American hosts and quotes a motto of the Australian labor movement: “if you don’t fight, you lose.” In exchange he receives a Gadsden flag (“Don’t Tread On Me”) in return, underscoring the global scope of popular struggles.

Leaving Chicago, I felt less like I’d attended a conference and more like I’d witnessed a blueprint take shape: one for a movement that rejects managed decline, refuses sectarian litmus tests, and insists that peace is made by rebuilding what’s broken—at home and abroad. From Maupin’s call for a government of action, to Mutombo’s defense of civil liberties, to McArdle’s coalition-building, to Stephens’ family-first vision of peace, to Hosseini’s demand for moral clarity, to Shenk’s reminder to understand before we endorse, to Lockhart’s Good Samaritan politics, to Young’s third-party pragmatism, to Preston’s warning against reactionary political drift, and Fox’s gospel of labor solidarity—the message was the same: don’t agonize, organize.

That means choosing bridges over purity tests, debates over smear campaigns, labor over lobbyists, and material improvements over performative posturing. It means saying no to political violence and yes to organizing centers, cross-movement cooperation, and economic projects that lift working families. It means remembering that peace isn’t the pause between wars but the presence of justice—paychecks, housing, healthcare, education, and dignity. I went to wave a flag that matched my shirt; I left determined to match my life to my politics. The work begins now.

On Friday, President Donald Trump wrote a Truth Social post to fire Erika McEntarfer, head of the Bureau of Labor Statistics (BLS), after a jobs report showed sharply weaker employment growth and large downward revisions for May and June: the July report showed only 73,000 new jobs and a rise in unemployment to 4.2%. May and June job gains were revised down by a combined 258,000—the largest non-pandemic adjustment since 1979. Trump criticized the revisions as implausible, politically biased, and “rigged” to make him look bad, while accusing McEntarfer, a Biden appointee, of politically manipulating the data but provided no evidence. Labor Secretary Lori Chavez-DeRemer confirmed her removal, with Deputy Commissioner William Wiatrowski named acting director.

The move sparked concern over the politicization of trusted economic data—traditionally considered nonpartisan and critical to financial markets, which dropped after the report’s release. Critics, including economists and former officials, warned that this unprecedented move threatens the credibility of U.S. economic data. Former Treasury Secretary Larry Summers likened the act to authoritarian behavior, and experts stressed the danger to public trust.

Of course, McEntarfer was no stranger to downward revisions during the Biden Administration—as the Trump White House hastened to point out—coming under heavy criticism for a pattern of significant data inaccuracies and operational failures that, according to critics, undermined public trust in one of the federal government’s most vital economic agencies. During her tenure, the BLS repeatedly published overly optimistic job growth numbers that were later revised sharply downward. In one instance, a major benchmark revision in 2024 reduced job growth by 818,000—marking the second-largest correction on record. Taken all together, over 1.18 million jobs were reportedly overstated across various months. These flawed reports had wide-reaching consequences, including influencing the Federal Reserve to delay interest rate cuts based on an inaccurate picture of labor market strength.

In addition to the statistical errors, the BLS under McEntarfer faced a series of technical and procedural failures. Sensitive data was leaked prematurely on multiple occasions, including to Wall Street firms that reportedly gained early access to unreleased figures. The agency also experienced delays in public data releases and internal communication breakdowns that further eroded confidence. These incidents occurred at critical times, such as just before major Fed policy announcements, intensifying market sensitivity to any perceived bias or mishandling.

The cumulative effect of these missteps led to escalating scrutiny from lawmakers. Republican leaders in the House, including the Education and the Workforce Committee, launched oversight inquiries, accusing the BLS and the Biden Administration of manipulating data to present a more favorable economic outlook. Reports from Bloomberg, The Heritage Foundation, and other outlets reinforced concerns about the agency’s credibility. Accordingly, the Trump Administration and its supporters argue that McEntarfer’s removal was necessary to restore the integrity of government labor statistics and ensure that future data is free from political influence and operational error.

But it’s worth noting that, even prior to downward revisions, the official unemployment figures—the U-3 rate—already comes with significant drawbacks when used as an economic indicator, since it includes only those who are unemployed and actively seeking work. Accordingly, it fails to capture the full extent of labor underutilization, as it excludes discouraged workers—those who have stopped looking for work—and part-time workers who want full-time jobs. In contrast, the U-6 unemployment rate offers a more comprehensive measure of unemployment, including not only those counted in U-3 but also discouraged workers, marginally attached workers, and those working part-time for economic reasons.

Because of this wider scope, the U-6 rate is always higher than the U-3 and is seen by many economists as the truer reflection of labor market conditions: for example, during the coronavirus pandemic in September 2020, the U-3 rate was 7.9%, while the U-6 rate was significantly higher at 12.8%. Since it captures more of the “hidden unemployment,” the U-6 represents a valuable tool for understanding labor market dynamics beneath the surface; therefore, despite the prominence of U-3 in the media, many economists argue that U-6 should be given more weight when evaluating the true health of the job market.

Still, with the U-6 rate at 7.9% in July 2025 compared to a U-3 rate of 4.2%, the statistics on unemployment aren’t even close to what we’d call catastrophic. However, we should temper that assessment with the May 2025 analysis from the Ludwig Institute for Shared Economic Prosperity (LISEP) finding that the bottom 60% of American earners don’t make enough to afford a basic standard of living, estimating the rate of “functional unemployment” at over 24%—describing those with annual incomes of less than $67,000 (and averaging only $38,000) who can’t afford costs beyond essential food and housing for products and services like education, healthcare, technology, and professional needs.

But even if you hold the U-3 and U-6 as useful figures, they remain lagging indicators—meaning they respond to economic changes after they occur—and U.S. economic forecasts have grown increasingly uncertain. With a tariff deadline looming, dozens of countries face potential U.S. tariffs up to 50%, though the administration has granted Mexico a 90-day extension and struck deals with other nations, such as South Korea. Trump claims the tariffs are enriching the U.S., but economists remain skeptical.

Jason Furman, former head of the Council of Economic Advisers under Obama, argues that while the economy hasn’t collapsed, the U.S. is showing signs of stagflation—slow growth and rising inflation. Tariffs have contributed to increased prices for consumer goods like furniture, toys, and electronics. Although initial fears may have been overstated, Furman stresses tariffs are still economically harmful and a poor method of raising revenue.

Consumer inflation is beginning to rise again, especially in areas directly impacted by tariffs. Companies are responding differently—some like Procter & Gamble are raising prices, while Walmart is cutting them. Furman notes that major industries like autos can’t indefinitely absorb higher costs without passing them on to consumers.

Although the White House has secured some trade deals, Furman cautions against viewing them as victories. He says the economic damage from U.S.-imposed tariffs outweighs the benefits of foreign concessions, and while a full-scale global trade war has been avoided, the current strategy still harms American consumers and businesses. The U.S. Chamber of Commerce warns that tariffs are placing a significant burden on U.S. small businesses, which make up over 97% of the country’s importers. While intended to combat unfair trade practices abroad, the rising costs from tariffs are hitting small retailers hardest, forcing many to raise prices, reduce product offerings, or absorb the added costs—often at the expense of profitability and growth. The National Retail Federation warns that these challenges not only threaten the survival of small businesses but also impact local economies, as small businesses account for nearly half of all private-sector jobs in the U.S.

Of course, Trump’s tariffs don’t just increase uncertainty for the U.S. economy, but for global trade. At the 30th anniversary of the World Trade Organization (WTO), marked earlier this year in Geneva, Director-General Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala emphasized the organization’s importance as a stabilizing force amid growing turmoil—particularly due to Trump’s aggressive protectionist measures, including broad “Liberation Day” tariffs and country-specific duties. These moves have disrupted supply chains, raised costs for U.S. consumers, provoked retaliatory tariffs, and challenged the WTO’s authority, escalating longstanding criticisms of the institution.

Trump’s actions represent the most protectionist U.S. stance since the 1930s. He argues that decades of trade liberalization, especially since China’s WTO accession in 2001, have hollowed out American industry and hurt workers, and further accuses the WTO of favoring China through “developing country” status and lax enforcement of trade rules. While China is often cited for distorting trade through subsidies and quotas, it continues to benefit from WTO protections. Accordingly, his supporters see tariffs as a way to reshore jobs and rebalance trade.

These critiques, however, predate Trump. The WTO has faced global backlash since the 1999 “Battle in Seattle,” when 50,000 protesters decried corporate influence and the organization’s ability to override domestic labor and environmental standards. Over time, workers in wealthy nations and leaders in developing countries alike have grown disillusioned. Developing nations argue that WTO rules block industrial growth, and permit rich countries to subsidize their own industries while restricting such support in poorer nations.

Internally, the WTO is weakened by its consensus-based system and the U.S.'s deliberate obstruction. Trump paralyzed the WTO’s dispute resolution mechanism by blocking appointments to its Appellate Body—a standoff that continued under President Biden. The result is a global trade body unable to enforce its own rules. This impasse was underscored when the WTO ruled Trump’s steel tariffs illegal, but the Biden Administration refused to remove them.

Accordingly, the WTO now faces an existential crisis. Without effective enforcement, countries may increasingly violate trade rules, opting instead for bilateral deals and escalating tariff wars. While some hope for reform that better addresses both North-South inequalities and modern economic challenges, others fear the organization is sliding into irrelevance. As Okonjo-Iweala optimistically calls for renewal, many observers warn the WTO’s future remains uncertain—and possibly bleak.

As debates over trade, data integrity, and economic leadership intensify, the stakes are not just about short-term job numbers or tariff rates—they are about the credibility of American institutions and the rules-based order that underpins the global economy. While the Trump Administration frames McEntarfer’s removal on Friday as a corrective measure to restore credibility to federal labor data, critics view it as an unprecedented political intrusion into a historically nonpartisan agency—raising fears about the erosion of institutional independence under authoritarian overreach. But in the grand scheme, that unceremonious firing, amid the escalating use of tariffs with potentially frightful domestic repercussions, represents only an ancillary detail in an increasingly turbulent chapter for the global economy.

While tensions with international trade institutions grow, the administration’s aggressive protectionist agenda contributes to inflationary pressures, global trade uncertainty, and growing strain on small businesses at home. Despite scattered trade deals, the broader economic consequences of these policies—ranging from distorted market signals to weakening trust in global institutions like the WTO—are becoming harder to ignore.

Thus, some more imaginative observers (like us here at Radio Free Pizza) may therefore speculate that the Trump Administration isn’t just working to reconfigure the U.S. domestic economy—as we suggested while first exploring Trump’s tariffs in February—but, indeed, plans to reconfigure the global capital order. If that’s the case, then what may seem like erratic trade policy could, in hindsight, reveal itself as the scaffolding of a deliberately engineered rupture—one meant to fracture the prior Western consensus and unapologetically usher in a new world system, as we touched on in our1 three-part2 exploration3 of the nascent North American Union from January. What may come of this, perhaps no one can know for sure, but you can count on us here at Radio Free Pizza to keep tracking it.

You’ve probably heard already, but the mounting tensions between Iran and Israel have erupted into unrestrained war: on 13 June 2025, Israel launched Operation Rising Lion, striking key Iranian nuclear and military sites, including Natanz and Tehran’s District 18, in an effort to halt what Prime Minister Netanyahu called Iran’s imminent nuclear threat. The campaign killed over 220 people, including top Iranian military and nuclear figures. Iran retaliated with the long-awaited Operation True Promise 3, firing over 100 missiles at Israel, one of which struck a hospital in Beersheba. In response, Israel escalated further with missile strikes on Tehran—one of which struck the IRIB studio during a live broadcast—and later hitting Iran’s Khondab heavy water nuclear reactor (formerly known as Arak) before claiming full air superiority over the Islamic Republic.

Little less than a year ago, a slice from our mid-year dispatch documented how Israel had solidified its role as the primary kinetic force in its escalating conflict with Iran, shifting from covert sabotage to overt military strikes with its 1 April 2024 airstrike on Iran’s consulate in Damascus, killing top Iranian generals and provoking Iran’s first-ever direct missile and drone retaliation, to which Israel responded with a limited strike on the Iranian nuclear facility at Isfahan. The sudden death of Iranian President Ebrahim Raisi in a helicopter crash weeks later intensified speculation of Israeli involvement, further elevating Mossad’s reputation for covert reach. These actions, alongside ongoing tensions and the specter of cyber warfare, underscored Israel’s aggressive posture and pivotal influence over the region’s volatile security dynamics.

A further bulletin last year documented the mounting tensions that have now engulfed West Asia following Israel’s 26 October 2024 strike on Iran’s Parchin nuclear facility, which precipitated preparation of the aforementioned Operation True Promise 3 amidst considerable uncertainty regarding its timing. Our initial analyses highlighted Israel’s expansionist ambitions, Iran’s revolutionary legacy, and the U.S.’s enduring imperial interests, particularly under the then-incoming administration of President Donald Trump.

Subsequently, we traced the escalation in 2025, noting Iran’s retaliatory operations, the U.S. designation of Iran and its allies as security threats, and the intensification of military posturing by all actors involved. Despite official overtures toward renewed nuclear negotiations, diplomatic efforts faltered as Iran—supported by China and Russia—rejected U.S. deadlines, prompting significant deployments of American military assets and expansion of conflict zones, notably into Syria. These developments not only heightened the risk of widespread regional destabilization but have also imperiled global economic stability through potential disruptions in oil supplies.

Now, the U.S. has officially entered the conflict on behalf of Israel, despite reportedly claiming little more than a week ago that it would not provide offensive support, conducting airstrikes early Sunday morning local time on three key Iranian nuclear sites—Fordow, Natanz, and Isfahan—using B-2 stealth bombers launched not from Diego Garcia in the Indian Ocean, where our bulletin from April reported more than a third of the bombers had been stationed, but instead from Missouri. Trump announced the “very successful attacks” via Truth Social, declaring the aircraft had exited Iranian airspace and calling for peace following the strikes. The move marks a historic escalation in the conflict between Israel and Iran, now in its tenth day, and represents a sharp departure from past U.S. efforts to avoid direct intervention, provoking Iranian threats of retaliation and fears that the conflict could rapidly expand across the region.

Despite Trump's prior reluctance and a last-ditch diplomatic outreach through a potential backchannel meeting in Istanbul, failed contact with Iran’s Supreme Leader Ruhollah Khomeini led Trump to conclude that military action was necessary. (Surely it had nothing to do with Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s claim less than a week ago that the assassination attempts on Trump from last July and September were Iranian plots, doubling down on allegations covered in our bulletin from last December.) Trump had increasingly questioned Israel’s ability to neutralize Iran’s fortified facilities without U.S. support and ultimately decided to act unilaterally (supposedly) to prevent Iran from acquiring nuclear weapons after a week of Israeli operations aimed at dismantling Iran’s air defenses and offensive missile capabilities. While Iran has yet to officially acknowledge the attacks, U.S. and Israeli officials emphasized the strategic necessity of American involvement, noting that only U.S. bombers carrying 30,000-pound bunker-buster bombs capable of destroying Iran’s deeply buried nuclear infrastructure.

While Israel was notified in advance, the strikes introduce significant risks of Iranian retaliation against American forces in the region, with Trump’s direct intervention in the war having dramatically escalated the conflict and drawn the U.S. into a volatile regional war. Though Trump claims to have “obliterated” Iran’s nuclear program, the true extent of the damage is unclear, and Iran has vowed to continue its nuclear activities. Israel, which had pushed for U.S. support, claims the strikes set Iran back years and applauds the escalation. However, the move has drawn sharp international condemnation, with the UN warning of catastrophic consequences and analysts warning it could either entrench or destabilize the Iranian regime. Domestically, Trump faces fierce backlash for bypassing Congress, prompting bipartisan accusations of constitutional violations and even calls for impeachment.

As fears mount over regional retaliation, oil markets panic, and anti-war protests spread in the U.S., Israel remains central to a widening crisis that now threatens global stability. Netanyahu opened his latest address not in Hebrew to his own people, but in English, directing praise toward U.S. President Donald Trump for launching strikes on Iran’s nuclear sites—an action Netanyahu long advocated. For over 15 years, Netanyahu pushed American leaders to take military action against Iran’s nuclear program, insisting only the U.S.’s bunker-busting bombs could penetrate Iran's fortified facilities.

With the recent U.S. intervention, Netanyahu may now claim his primary war aim has been achieved, potentially marking a turning point in the conflict. However, Iran insists it had already moved its nuclear material, casting doubt on the strategic impact. While Israel might have continued a slower campaign on its own, the decisive U.S. strike gave Netanyahu a symbolic victory. The broader question now is how Iran and its allies—such as the Houthis—will respond. With American interests in the region newly exposed, and the U.S. signaling it does not seek regime change, the Middle East stands on edge, uncertain whether this moment signals de-escalation or the start of a far deadlier phase in the war.

For its own part, the U.S. seems to be signaling a preference for de-escalation. Earlier this morning, Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth asserted that the recent U.S. strikes were not aimed at regime change but at neutralizing perceived threats from Iran’s nuclear program. While the Pentagon emphasized restraint and a desire to avoid escalation, Tehran responded by firing missiles at Israel, though it has so far held back from major retaliation against U.S. forces. The U.S. has repositioned military assets and reinforced defenses in the region amid fears of broader conflict, including threats to the vital Strait of Hormuz, while officials stressed the campaign is not open-ended but will continue if American interests are attacked.

In this fraught moment, the balance between catastrophe and containment rests delicately in Iran’s hands. Though Trump warned Iran against retaliation, the world still watches for Tehran’s next move. Wounded by Israeli bombardment and now American intervention, Iran now faces immense pressure to respond, yet options are limited. With their missile stockpiles drawn down and facing the looming threat of U.S. escalation, hardliners urge retaliation while moderates may seek restraint to avoid a broader conflict. Iran could strike U.S. bases, target Gulf oil infrastructure, or attempt symbolic gestures to save face.

Some argue that, for Khomeini, each path carries grave risks—military defeat or domestic collapse. (The latter would align with Tarot by Fergus’s reading from our spectacle at the start of the year.) Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has stated that Israel's military campaign against Iran could lead to regime change, calling Iran's government “very weak” and suggesting a majority of Iranians would oust their leaders if given the chance. Israel’s strikes have gone beyond targeting nuclear infrastructure, hitting military and media sites in an apparent attempt to destabilize the regime and encourage internal dissent. Others, however, argue that Iran’s core institutions remain intact, and despite significant losses—including the deaths of senior commanders and vulnerability in key strategic sites—opposition groups are fragmented and lack traction inside the country. Contrary to his Defense Secretary, Trump has hinted at support for regime change but remains ambiguous, with his administration divided over deeper involvement.

Meanwhile, having pressed its long-standing campaign to its logical conclusion, Israel stands emboldened by American military backing. The U.S., once a reluctant actor, is now an active belligerent in a rapidly widening war, with its forces, assets, and global credibility at stake. Iran, wounded but not broken, may face a crucible: retaliate and risk annihilation, or restrain and risk collapse from within. With regional proxies weakened, global markets rattled, and diplomacy all but extinguished, the stakes have never been higher. Whether this marks the climax of a decade-long standoff or the opening salvo of a much broader conflagration depends not just on Tehran’s next move—but on the world’s collective ability to pull back from the brink.

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Dear Radio Free Pizza gourmets,

I’m writing this from a place where the streets still remember my footsteps: the slow ones of childhood, the hurried ones of adolescence, and now these more thoughtful steps of return—streets I remember all too well. Yes, after the Mexican saga that I detailed in my March journal—confronting the emotional and financial fallout of a failed real estate investment—and now jobless, I’m back in my hometown of Minneapolis, which longtime readers will remember from my January 2024 dispatch examining the mainstream narrative of George Floyd’s death in 2020 and the city’s ongoing unrest.

Since coming back in April, I’ve felt like a prodigal son returned—carrying the weight of my mistakes and losses, which since my last journal have only multiplied, I’m altogether devastated by how far I’ve fallen. Every day feels like a struggle to reclaim the life I once had, haunted by regret but also holding onto a flicker of hope that restoration is possible. The journey back has been painful, but I’m determined to rise from this broken place stronger and wiser.

Still, I’m not just haunted by past mistakes, but terrorized to consider the present. When I departed the U.S. last year, I had growing concerns about political violence and unrest. Those realities now feel too close for comfort. Just yesterday, that fear was made tragically real again in Minnesota: Democratic state leader Melissa Hortman and her husband were fatally shot in their home, and another lawmaker, John Hoffman, and his wife were critically wounded in a related overnight attack. The suspect, dressed as a police officer, exchanged gunfire with real officers. Following this, authorities launched a massive manhunt with roadblocks and tactical teams searching the area, and remains at large. Authorities recovered writings naming multiple lawmakers multiple firearms inside a fake police car, and linked the shooter to a private armed security firm.

Governor and 2024 Democratic vice presidential candidate Tim Walz and national leaders condemned the attack as part of a disturbing trend of violence against public officials, highlighting deep political divisions. The Minnesota iteration of the “No Kings” protests were canceled due to safety concerns, though they proceeded yesterday in nearly 2,000 locations across the U.S. to oppose President Trump’s recent immigration raids and the deployment of National Guard and Marines to Los Angeles, where clashes with protesters had turned violent. Still, local demonstrators nonetheless gathered peacefully.

Later that evening, Washington, D.C. hosted a massive military parade celebrating the U.S. Army’s 250th anniversary and coinciding with Trump’s 79th birthday. The event featured tanks, helicopters, 6,600 troops, and flyovers, fulfilling Trump’s long-standing desire for a grand display of American military power. However, the spectacle drew widespread criticism and sparked protests in Washington and across the country, where demonstrators accused Trump of politicizing the military and behaving like a dictator.

Protesters held signs, marched toward the White House, and staged satirical displays, including a Trump puppet on a golden toilet. Critics also objected to the parade’s $45 million cost and the potential damage to city infrastructure. A majority of Americans surveyed said it was not a good use of government funds. The parade included historical military reenactments, armored vehicles, and a concert with fireworks. Trump planned to swear in 250 troops at the event’s conclusion. The day underscored deep divisions in the country, with Trump brushing off protests and weather concerns, vowing the parade would go on “rain or shine.”

And yet, in the midst of national chaos and personal grief, I’ve found myself needing more than just headlines to make sense of the world—I’ve needed stillness. The violence in my own backyard, the spectacle in Washington, and the tremors of unrest shaking the nation only deepen the urgency I feel to re-root myself. Not in cynicism, but in something quieter, older, and more true. Coming home now—to the very place where so many of those worries took root in my heart—is more than just a physical move: it’s spiritual. After all the motion, ambition, and the often-chaotic chase of the past season, something in me needed grounding. Not just in geography, but in soul.

Minneapolis has seen the best and worst of me. It has known my rising hopes and (at least a few of) my quiet defeats. Still, finding spiritual grounding here feels like trying to pray through an earthquake—each moment of stillness shattered by the tremors of political unrest and a nation on edge. But despite all that, I return not as someone looking backward, but as someone anchoring a fresh burst of forward momentum. As Daniel G. Amen wrote in Conquer Worry and Anxiety (2020), “people who do not give up interpret […[ setbacks as temporary as opposed to permanent; limited instead of pervasive; and changeable instead of out of their control.” For that reason, he offers the formula that optimism plus reality equals resilience.

This formula offers an interesting contribution to my dispatch from last November on what I called “Liberation Vitalism”: there, I presented resilience as a deep, spiritual response to crisis that involves wrestling with complex social, theological, and philosophical challenges. In that context, resilience becomes a sacred, communal strength rooted in intrinsic cosmic values, nurtured by spiritual traditions and community, and expressed through courageous action to transform suffering and build a just, flourishing world.

Now, in these turbulent times—both personal and national—I am learning that resilience is not merely about surviving hardship but about embracing the tension between hope and reality, pain and possibility. Returning to Minneapolis has brought me face-to-face with the fractures in my own life and in the society around me, yet it has also offered a chance to root myself anew in faith, community, and purpose: hence, some of my recent dalliances organizing with the Minneapolis branch of the Center for Political Innovation.

Center for Political Innovation

By CPI Authors

As I move forward, I carry with me the conviction that true resilience calls for steadfast courage, honest reckoning, and a commitment to transformative action. It is in this spirit that I continue to walk these streets—old and familiar—seeking not just restoration, but renewal, not just endurance, but meaningful change.

Accordingly, I’m working to anchor myself in a deeper truth: I haven’t missed my calling. I haven’t forfeited my future, and I am still becoming. Being here doesn’t mean I’m settling: it means I’m healing. I’m building something again. Brick by brick. Prayer by prayer. Dream by dream. There’s power in that—in starting from the ground you first sprang from.

For those of you walking through your own season of rebuilding—I see you. Sometimes, the comeback starts right where it all began.

Earlier this year, we analyzed the geopolitical and economic developments stemming from the Trump Administration’s tariff policies and foreign strategy, suggesting that while these may initially seem divisive, they may inadvertently push toward deeper integration into a North American Union. With Chinese influence in Panama increasing through infrastructure investments, U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio toured Central America, pressuring Panama to reduce Chinese ties, especially around the Panama Canal, with Panama withdrawing from China’s Belt and Road Initiative (BRI). Though China urged Panama to resist U.S. pressure, the regional imbalance of power suggested that the U.S. will likely maintain influence.

The next month, that seemed even more likely, with President Trump celebrating a U.S.-led consortium, spearheaded by BlackRock, acquiring most of CK Hutchison’s $22.8 billion global ports business (held under the subsidiary Hutchinson Port Holdings), including key ports at both ends of the Panama Canal, with U.S. investors set to control 90% of Panama Ports Company, which operates the Balboa and Cristobal ports. Trump framed the deal as part of “reclaiming” the canal from Chinese control—though CK Hutchison is a Hong Kong firm not financially tied to China’s government—while Panama’s leadership pushed back against Trump’s rhetoric, with Panamanian President José Raúl Mulino strongly denying any U.S. takeover and reiterating Panama’s full sovereignty over the transoceanic corridor. Nonetheless, the ports’ strategic location is vital to the U.S., as most ships using the canal are U.S.-bound—and the sale might further strain U.S.-Panama relations, especially given Trump’s controversial statements and the canal’s sensitive historical context.

CK Hutchinson had expected to finalize the planned transition by 2 April. But on 28 March, China’s antitrust regulator, the State Administration for Market Regulation (SAMR), announced it will review CK Hutchison’s $22.8 billion sale of its global ports business—including the two strategic ports on the Panama Canal—to the U.S.-led consortium featuring BlackRock. The move raises uncertainty around the deal, which had already drawn criticism from Chinese state media, which called it a betrayal of Chinese interests.

While the Panama ports represent a small portion of the overall deal, SAMR is assessing whether the sale could undermine competition in China’s domestic and international shipping sectors. Experts consulted by the regulator suggested that conditions may be imposed to protect Chinese shipping competitiveness. Simultaneously, Panama’s auditor-general is conducting an audit of CK Hutchison’s compliance with the port concession terms, further complicating the transaction. Analysts warn that if China blocks the deal, it could rattle global financial markets and damage Hong Kong’s standing as a financial hub.

Of course, China isn’t the only nation with regulators complicating the deal: just last week, Panama’s Comptroller-General Anel Flores announced that CK Hutchison violated the terms of its concession. An audit found “many breaches,” including $1.2 billion in unpaid fees, misuse of tax exemptions, and previous irregularities. Flores said he would file a legal complaint over the violations. Some analysts suspect that the audit findings had been politically timed to justify Panama canceling its concession to CK Hutchinson, thereby appeasing the Trump Administration: the report was released just before U.S. Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth’s visit to Panama, though Flores denied any connection.

But in the context of Trump’s desire to reestablish American influence over the Panama Canal, the U.S. isn’t waiting around: as Stavroula Pabst reports, Hegseth’s visit coincided with the announcement that it would deploy U.S. troops near the Panama Canal for military training and other activities under a new agreement with the Panamanian government, with the move appearing to represent a political concession over the fees charged to U.S. ships transiting the canal. While Trump allies previously floated the idea of reestablishing U.S. military bases in Panama, the agreement stipulates that troops will operate from Panama-controlled facilities—some of which are old American-built sites—while the Panamanian government has emphasized it will not permit foreign military bases.

The deployment comes amid mixed signals on U.S. recognition of Panamanian sovereignty. Although a Spanish-language joint statement affirms Panama’s control over the canal, the English version omits this, and U.S. officials have offered vague responses on the issue, instead focusing on countering “malign influence,” particularly from China. While the U.S. ceded control of the canal to Panama in 1999, this announced deployment suggests a resurgence of American “gunboat diplomacy” amid increasing U.S.-China tensions.

In response, Panamanian opposition leaders have accused the U.S. of carrying out a “camouflaged invasion” following the U.S. troop deployment. Naturally the deployment has sparked domestic outrage, with critics arguing it violates Panama’s sovereignty and the canal's neutrality treaty, which prohibits foreign military installations. Despite government claims that the new U.S.-Panama agreement is temporary and does not establish military bases, opposition figures argue that the arrangements effectively constitute foreign military bases and recall painful memories of “Operation Just Cause,” the 1989 U.S. invasion.

Adding to the controversy, the U.S. also secured a deal to reimburse its navy ships for canal fees, which may further violate neutrality terms and create pressure for additional concessions. President Mulino faces mounting domestic criticism for his lack of transparency and for handling negotiations unilaterally, with two-thirds of Panamanians disapproving of his leadership amid broader political discontent and anticipated protests against both the U.S. presence and domestic policies. Popular demonstrations began at the start of Hegseth’s visit, with more expected to follow.

Taken all together, these developments point to a reassertion of U.S. power in the Western Hemisphere, with the Panama Canal once again becoming a flashpoint in the broader contest between Washington and Beijing. The BlackRock-led attempted acquisition of CK Hutchison’s ports, the audit-driven legal pressure in Panama, and the strategic return of U.S. troops to canal-adjacent facilities all reflect a coordinated effort to limit Chinese influence and reinforce American dominance over a historically vital trade artery. Yet the implications extend far beyond maritime logistics—testing Panama’s sovereignty, stirring regional anxieties, and redefining the limits of global economic integration under rising great power rivalry. As geopolitical alignments shift and legal battles unfold, it seems certain that the Panama Canal’s symbolic and strategic importance will ensure that it remains a fulcrum of international politics for the foreseeable future.

Many worry about an oncoming World War III: and though we’ve been trying to keep our cool, you know that includes us, if you read between the lines of our last bulletin. But it’s not just Americans like us who have reason to worry that their government is positioning itself for war. Europeans, too, have reason for concern. Naturally they focus on the ongoing conflict in Ukraine, which—when we here at Radio Free Pizza last covered it—in late 2024 launched U.S. and UK missiles into Russian regions, prompting Russian President Vladimir Putin to revise Russia’s nuclear doctrine, lowering the threshold for nuclear response, before firing back with a hypersonic missile strike on Ukraine’s Yuzhmash missile plant. Meanwhile, NATO allies continued doubled down on their support Ukraine, with France confirming permission for Kiev to use French missiles on Russian targets. Despite fears of nuclear escalation, many analysts believed Russia’s rhetoric is more posturing than a real threat—though others proposed that, under the second Trump Administration, NATO might supply Ukraine with tactical nuclear weapons (TNWs), potentially provoking a Russian nuclear response.

Of course, such speculations have surely lost support, given the developments of 2025. In early February, the Trump Administration has proposed that the U.S. receive 50% ownership of Ukraine’s rare earth minerals as reimbursement for military and financial aid provided since the war began in 2022. (Though Trump famously claimed during the 2024 campaign that he’d have the Ukraine war “done in twenty-four hours,” he has apparently awoken to the impossibility of that, and began seeking instead the best deal he could secure from protracted peace negotiations.) The mineral deal would give the U.S. direct access to valuable materials essential for technology production—instead of monetary repayment.

Trump emphasized the strategic importance of these minerals, calling access to them a matter of U.S. “security”—similar to his rhetoric about a U.S. acquisition of Greenland. He claimed Ukraine was open to the deal and has pushed for the U.S. to gain $500 billion worth of mineral access as a way to recoup the costs incurred over three years of support for Ukraine—and, indeed, the idea of trading critical resources for continued U.S. support has been part of Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky’s so-called “Victory Plan,” with Ukraine’s survival depending heavily on ongoing U.S. support. (Of course, many of these resources are currently in Russian-occupied territory, complicating matters.)

Later that same month, U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio and Russian Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov met in Riyadh for the most extensive U.S.-Russia talks since the Ukraine war began. The talks opened the door to potential U.S.-Russia cooperation in energy and raised the possibility of easing U.S. sanctions on Russia, depending on future progress. The diplomats agreed to restore diplomatic staffing at their respective embassies and set up working groups to explore a negotiated end to the conflict, including possible territorial concessions and security guarantees. Amusingly, these talks excluded Ukraine and Europe, angering Zelensky, while Trump further stirred controversy by blaming Ukraine for failing to prevent the war.

Meanwhile, the Trump team had been divided on whether U.S. troops would be deployed to Ukraine: Vice President JD Vance said it’s “on the table” if peace talks with Russia fail, though Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth denied any such plans.

But I’m guessing that Vance cleared those plans off the table himself after a highly anticipated 28 February meeting between Trump and Zelensky at the White House ended abruptly without the signing of a critical minerals agreement. The meeting, intended to solidify U.S.-Ukraine cooperation on developing Ukraine’s natural resources, devolved into a public confrontation over the ongoing war with Russia when Vance emphasized the necessity of diplomacy to resolve the conflict in Ukraine and Zelensky countered by expressing deep distrust toward Putin, citing previous unsuccessful diplomatic efforts. He urged Trump not to compromise with Putin, whom he referred to as a “killer.” The exchange intensified, leading Trump to accuse Zelensky of disrespecting the U.S. and questioning his readiness for peace negotiations. Subsequently, Trump directed aides to end the meeting prematurely, instructing Zelensky to leave the White House.

The failure to sign the minerals deal left Ukraine without a potentially significant avenue for economic collaboration with the U.S., which Kiev had hoped would bolster its position in the war and facilitate additional aid from Congress. European leaders quickly rallied in support of Zelensky, with German chancellor candidate Friedrich Merz emphasizing the importance of distinguishing between aggressor and victim in the conflict while Zelensky engaged in discussions with French President Emmanuel Macron, NATO Secretary General Mark Rutte, and EU Council President Antonio Costa to seek further backing.

President Trump’s approach signaled a shift in U.S. policy toward a more conciliatory stance with Russia, causing concern among traditional European allies. NATO’s Secretary General, Mark Rutte, warned of a potential full-scale Russian attack on Europe by 2030, emphasizing the strength of the NATO alliance in defending its members. Ukraine’s prolonged war with Russia has led neighboring countries, especially those bordering Russia, to ramp up defense spending. Some fear that if Kiev falls, Russia could target the Baltic states or Poland, which could trigger NATO intervention and escalate into a global conflict.

In response, European nations are preparing for crisis situations by urging citizens to stockpile food, water, and other emergency supplies. Sweden, Finland, and Germany have updated their civil defense strategies, with Sweden mandating military service and Finland focusing on readiness due to its long border with Russia. Additionally, European nations are bolstering their air defense systems, with discussions about developing an independent European nuclear deterrent, as concerns about U.S. commitment to European defense grow.

Meanwhile, Russia’s military operation in Ukraine is causing ripple effects across the region, and the increasing militarization in Europe indicate a widespread anticipation of further instability, particularly in Eastern Europe. Zelensky acknowledged the risks of escalation, with some experts suggesting that World War III might already be unfolding in certain ways.

Certainly there’s good reason some analysts have been pointing to the U.S. to explain Europe’s dedication to a war footing, given the shifting dynamics between the U.S. and Europe regarding the ongoing war in Ukraine and broader defense concerns. Those concerned highlight the increasing tensions between the Trump Administration and European allies—particularly in light of the U.S. distancing itself from Ukraine’s military needs—and the potential long-term consequences for European security.

Under the second Trump Administration, the U.S. has prioritized military engagement in the Indo-Pacific region—as we discussed last time on Radio Free Pizza—pressing Europe to build up its own defense capabilities, which has been resisted due to concerns about the cost and the potential for an American withdrawal. Despite some European efforts to increase defense spending after the 2014 Crimea annexation, Europe’s military readiness remains insufficient to independently support Ukraine or defend against Russian aggression: the U.S.’s reduced commitment to Ukraine risks creating a security vacuum that Europe would need to fill, but Europe faces significant challenges in ramping up its defense industry, including fragmentation, lack of cohesion, and insufficient investment. While Europe might aim to produce much of the military equipment Ukraine needs, it lacks the coordination and infrastructure to do so at scale. Additionally, NATO’s reliance on U.S. logistical support also complicates Europe’s ability to transition to self-sufficiency.

Moreover, the aforementioned analysts also note that European nations must overcome internal divisions and work together to address these issues. This will require political will, increased defense spending, and better coordination between EU countries, the UK, and Ukraine. They argue that the U.S. could support Europe in this transition, but must choose whether to allow Europe to take on more responsibility or force Ukraine into a less favorable settlement with Russia.

However, others see European militarization stemming not from genuine security concerns, but from more cynical motives. Economist Martin Armstrong argues that Europe’s push for war is motivated more by financial and political interests than by genuine security concerns. He outlines three main reasons behind this strategy. First, he suggests that war offers governments a way to reset their financial obligations by defaulting on debt under the cover of forming a new government—a tactic with historical precedent, such as the U.S. defaulting on the Continental Congress currency. Second, Armstrong claims that European leaders view war as a distraction from their own economic failures, including the fallout from pandemic lockdowns, net-zero climate policies, and sanctions against Russia. By blaming Russia for worsening economic conditions, leaders could deflect public anger and maintain power. Third, he contends that European elites see war as a means of accessing Russia’s vast natural resources, estimated to be worth $75 trillion. Conquering and dividing Russia, Armstrong argues, would strengthen Europe’s economic position and challenge U.S. dominance.

While Europe launches its militarization efforts, its erstwhile U.S. partner seems to have growing concerns about the likelihood of a negotiated end to the conflict. Last month, Trump threatened to impose 25% to 50% secondary tariffs on countries buying Russian oil if Moscow blocks his efforts to end the Ukraine war. Frustrated with Putin’s criticism of Zelensky and the lack of ceasefire progress, Trump warned that buyers of Russian oil could lose access to U.S. markets, emphasizing his willingness to act within a month if no deal is reached and reiterating that Ukraine would never join NATO. He also criticized Zelensky for hesitating on the aforementioned rare earth minerals deal that would give the U.S. access to Ukraine’s natural resource income. Despite his anger at Putin, Trump claimed their relationship remains strong if progress is made toward ending the war.

The threatened tariffs could heavily impact China, India, and others reliant on Russian oil. Trump also signaled potential sanctions against buyers of Iranian oil if Iran doesn’t halt its nuclear program. These measures would undoubtedly impose further disruptions to the global economy, increasing the likelihood of a sovereign debt default in Europe.

If Europe’s war footing feels desperate, that’s because it is. Whether driven by genuine fears of Russian aggression or by cynical efforts to paper over economic decay, Europe is now staring down a financial abyss—one that may make a debt default not just possible, but strategically desirable.

The signs are unmistakable. Years of economic mismanagement, costly energy policies, pandemic fallout, and the financial strains of militarizing against Russia have pushed European debt loads to historic highs. Add to that the U.S.’s shifting posture—no longer underwriting Europe’s defense unconditionally—and the cracks are starting to show.

If Armstrong’s thesis holds water, the ramifications of a European debt default would be profound. For starters, a default framed within the chaos of war could allow European governments to wipe their slates clean, dissolving obligations to creditors, gutting pension liabilities, and blaming it all on Moscow. Simultaneously, war-driven nationalizations or the seizure of assets (foreign or domestic) could provide temporary fiscal breathing room.

But this is a high-risk play. A coordinated or cascading European default would send shockwaves through global financial markets, hammering the euro, imperiling the European banking system, and likely triggering capital flight on a scale not seen in decades. Geopolitically, such a scenario could accelerate the fragmentation of the Western alliance.

Whether by accident or design, Europe appears to be approaching a point of no return. A debt default may be Europe’s last gasp—but it would not be a quiet one. It would reshape the global order, redraw alliances, and almost certainly deepen the chaos already spilling out of Ukraine. As the Old World strains under the weight of history, the real question may not be whether Europe defaults, but whether it survives.

Last year, we highlighted tensions between the Islamic Republic of Iran, the State of Israel, and the United States of America as they escalated through a series of attacks, intelligence accusations, and assassination plots. Iran launched Operation True Promise in April after Israel bombed its Damascus embassy, while U.S. intelligence increasingly framed Iran as a national security threat following the death of Iranian President Ebrahim Raisi last May. Over the following months, Iran was accused of election interference, cyberattacks, and influencing protests, culminating in the FBI arresting an alleged IRGC-linked assassin targeting Donald Trump. In October, Iran launched Operation True Promise 2 in retaliation for Israel’s assassination of a Hamas leader in Tehran. After Trump’s November election victory, Iran postponed further military actions, though tensions persisted. As Trump’s 2025 inauguration neared, uncertainty remained over whether his administration would pursue diplomacy or further escalate toward conflict.

Viewers of our New Year spectacle know that we’ve been betting on further escalations, and (at least in this arena) Trump hasn’t disappointed us. Just two days after his second inauguration, he re-designated Yemen’s Ansar Allah—popularly known as the Houthis—as a terrorist organization, reversing President Biden’s 2021 decision to lift the designation due to humanitarian concerns. The move aligns with the interests of Israel, the United Arab Emirates (UAE), and the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia (KSA), with Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman pledging $600 million in U.S. investments simultaneous to the terrorist designation. The decision followed continued Houthi attacks on commercial ships and military targets, despite previous U.S. and UK airstrikes. Trump’s order cited the Houthis’ ties to Iran’s Quds Force and their disruption of global trade through their attacks on ships in the Red Sea in response to Israel’s genocide in Gaza. (The Houthis, who had paused attacks following a Gaza ceasefire in January—which Trump helped broker with assistance from Egypt and Qatar—recently announced they would resume targeting Israeli-linked vessels following Israel’s repeated violations of that ceasefire deal.) Trump directed Secretary of State Marco Rubio to finalize the designation within 45 days and ordered a review to halt any U.S. aid that could benefit the Houthis.

On 15 March, seven days after Rubio’s deadline for finalizing the designation, the U.S. launched its first strikes against Yemen, killing at least 21 people, including civilians, according to Houthi officials. The airstrikes targeted sites in Sanaa and Saada as part of Trump’s intensified military campaign against the group, with Trump vowing to use “overwhelming lethal force” against the Houthis and warning Iran to halt its support for them—despite these strikes having no congressional approval, and therefore violating Article 1 the U.S. Constitution and of the War Powers Resolution of 1973. Those strikes became the first of a campaign that continued for at least a week and a half, shifting from targeting missile launch sites to attacking Houthi leadership and urban areas that killed 36 more—and though concerns over civilian casualties are growing, the U.S. has not publicly acknowledged any. Trump has given the U.S. military greater autonomy to conduct strikes without White House approval, leading to a higher frequency of attacks. Analysts suggest airstrikes alone will not eliminate their capabilities without ground forces.

Trump’s warning to Iran followed his proposal to reopen nuclear talks with the Islamic Republic, despite having withdrawn the U.S. from the 2015 Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action (JCPOA) in 2018—having then criticized the deal for its sunset clauses, which he believed would eventually allow Iran to resume nuclear activity, and for not addressing Iran’s missile development and regional influence—in favor of a “maximum pressure” campaign that imposed strict sanctions on Iran in an effort to secure a new agreement. That proposal set a two-month deadline for negotiating a new nuclear deal, after which the risk of U.S. or Israeli military action against Iran’s nuclear facilities would increase—with Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu having thanked Trump at the start of the month for sending munitions that had been held up by the previous administration, stating they would help Israel “finish the job against Iran’s terror axis.”

However, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei and President Masoud Pezeshkian both rejected Trump’s offer, accusing the U.S. of trying to impose further demands beyond nuclear restrictions, including limiting Iran’s missile capabilities and regional influence. Additionally, China and Russia expressed strong support for Iran—their fellow BRICS+ member since 2024—issuing a joint statement after talks in Beijing emphasizing that dialogue should only resume based on “mutual respect” and insisting that all sanctions be lifted. They also reaffirmed Iran’s right to peaceful nuclear energy use.

But in the wake of that proposal’s rejection, the U.S. began escalating its military presence in the Middle East by deploying a second aircraft carrier, the USS Carl Vinson, to the Red Sea to join the USS Harry S. Truman carrier strike group, while Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth extended the Truman’s deployment by at least a month. The buildup aims both to counter persistent Houthi attacks on commercial and military vessels, and to deter Iranian support. Additionally, Trump lowered the authorization threshold for offensive strikes, granting U.S. Central Command the ability to act offensively without White House approval—and, as previously mentioned, without congressional authorization.

Naturally, that double deployment signifies a significant shift in U.S. military focus toward the Middle East. Reinforcing its military presence in the region also involved the deployment of seven B-2 Spirit stealth bombers—more than a third of its B-2 fleet—to Diego Garcia, a remote U.S.-UK military base in the Indian Ocean dating to the 1960s, when the British forcibly displaced native islanders to lease the land to the U.S. for military use. Since then, the island has served as a strategic outpost for U.S. military operations in the Middle East and Indo-Pacific—including bombing campaigns in Iraq and Afghanistan—especially when access to bases in the Gulf states has been restricted.

Of course, Iran didn’t sit idly by. On 22 March, the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) announced the deployment of advanced 15th Khordad air defense missile systems on three strategic islands in the Persian Gulf—Greater Tunb, Lesser Tunb, and Abu Musa—positioned near the vital Strait of Hormuz, a crucial shipping route for Middle Eastern oil, as part of the Islamic Republic’s broader efforts to expand its military presence in the Gulf. The missiles, capable of striking targets within 600 km (370 miles), are intended to target “enemy bases, vessels, and assets” in the region. The move strengthens Iran’s anti-access/area-denial (A2/AD) capabilities, challenging U.S. and allied military operations in the Gulf. The 15th Khordad system can detect and engage a range of aerial threats, including stealth aircraft and cruise missiles, in a deployment that enhances Iran’s ability to counter U.S. surveillance and carrier strike groups, potentially restricting freedom of operation in the region. Meanwhile, the international community fears that escalating militarization in the Strait of Hormuz could disrupt global oil supplies and lead to armed conflict, reshaping the security landscape of the Persian Gulf.

Notably, Iran seems to have played its offensive capabilities closer to the vest, not mentioning whether the USS Carl Vinson, the USS Harry S. Truman, or other U.S. military assets might face its Fattah-1 or Fattah-2 hypersonic missiles, to which the aforementioned aircraft carriers are extremely vulnerable—though the IRGC has announced plans to soon debut a new model of hypersonic cruise missile.

Soon after the announced deployment of its air defense systems, the IRGC upped the ante with its revelation of another underground missile city, adding to one for naval warfare unveiled in February and to an underground naval base disclosed in January. These announcements came concurrent with naval exercises that took place this month, in which Russia and China joined their BRICS+ fellow in the Gulf of Oman (near Iran’s port of Chabahar) for their Marine Security Belt 2025—the fifth China-Iran-Russia naval exercise since 2019—aimed at enhancing counter-piracy, anti-terrorism, and maritime security operations. Russia deployed two corvettes, the Rezky and Aldar Tsydenzhapov, along with a tanker from its Pacific Fleet. China sent its Type 052D destroyer Baotou and the Type 903A replenishment ship Gaoyouhu from its 47th escort task group, while Iran contributed warships from both its Navy and the Revolutionary Guards. The exercises included hijacked vessel rescues, search and rescue missions, and live-fire drills. Additionally, Azerbaijan, South Africa, Oman, Kazakhstan, Pakistan, Qatar, Iraq, the UAE, and Sri Lanka participated as observers.

Chinese experts emphasize that the drill is not directed at any third party but is intended to maintain regional stability and global peace, but of course this year’s exercise holds greater geopolitical significance as Trump’s foreign policy shifts, disrupting Western alliances while strengthening pressure on Iran. Like the Strait of Hormuz, the Gulf of Oman remains a key oil trade route, with the U.S. Fifth Fleet stationed nearby in Bahrain—some 4,397 km (2,732 miles) from the U.S. base on Diego Garcia.

China’s efforts to downplay any foreign concerns about the naval exercise wisely anticipated the likely reaction of an increasingly belligerent U.S. president. Despite claims of being an “anti-war” president, analysts observe that Trump's actions suggest otherwise as he escalates conflict in the Middle East. At the start of the U.S. airstrike campaign in Yemen, the White House released photos of Trump watching U.S. strikes against the Houthis while dressed in golf attire, wearing a red MAGA hat and a headset. The post framed the strikes as an effort to protect U.S. shipping and deter terrorism. The images quickly went viral, sparking mixed reactions: critics questioned his “anti-war” stance, accusing him of prioritizing Israel’s interests, while supporters praised him for taking action. Others mocked him for ordering airstrikes while golfing. Meanwhile, Israel moved troops into Syria, and U.S. airstrikes targeted Syrian anti-aircraft artillery, creating a path for possible strikes on Iran.

Though Trump has expressed a preference for negotiations but warned of severe consequences if talks fail—and the deployment of B-2 bombers, capable of carrying massive bunker-buster bombs needed to strike Iran’s underground nuclear sites, signals U.S. preparedness for potential military action. But Iran’s nuclear ambitions are shaped by historical lessons from its neighbors, observing that Iraq and Libya were dismantled while North Korea, with nuclear weapons, deterred intervention, as Kevork Almassian persuasively argues. The U.S. initially engaged with Iran through the 2015 JCPOA, limiting its nuclear program in exchange for sanctions relief, but Trump, influenced by Netanyahu, withdrew from the deal in 2018, escalating tensions.

Almassian contends that U.S. policy toward Iran is less about nonproliferation and more about control, aiming to force Iran into submission rather than ensuring regional stability. This strategy, which he describes as imperial bullying, aligns with broader U.S. and Israeli goals of dominance in the Middle East. Netanyahu’s long-standing vision allegedly involves using military intervention to pacify the region and maintain U.S.-Israeli hegemony. While Iran faces heavy sanctions and threats over its nuclear potential, Israel, which has nuclear weapons and never signed the Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT), faces no such consequences, indicating the hypocrisy of the “rules-based international order.” Almassian therefore questions why global denuclearization efforts do not extend to all nations, highlighting a double standard that favors powerful allies while punishing adversaries.

As tensions escalate in the Middle East, the trajectory of U.S. policy under Trump’s second administration becomes increasingly clear: military action and coercion take precedence over diplomacy. The re-designation of the Houthis as a terrorist organization, the intensifying airstrike campaign in Yemen, and the growing military buildup in the region all point toward a widening conflict. Meanwhile, Iran continues to strengthen its defenses, bolstered by support from China and Russia, as the U.S. and its allies increase pressure.

Despite Trump’s insistence that he seeks negotiations, his administration’s actions—deploying stealth bombers, enabling unilateral strikes, and aligning with Netanyahu’s military ambitions—suggest otherwise. The historical pattern remains unchanged: Washington demands submission, and when defied, resorts to force. The hypocrisy of the so-called “rules-based order” is evident in the double standards applied to Iran versus Israel, reinforcing the notion that global power structures remain dictated by military might rather than true diplomacy.

As the Persian Gulf becomes a flashpoint for potential kinetic conflict, the question remains: will the world witness yet another devastating war, likely to cripple the global economy through its effect on global oil supplies, or will strategic interests force an uneasy balance of power? Given Trump’s two-month deadline for reaching a new nuclear deal, the coming months will determine whether Trump’s brinksmanship leads to a negotiated settlement—or yet another catastrophic confrontation.

Dear Radio Free Pizza gourmets,

As you might have noticed, it’s been about a month and a half since I’ve delivered a dispatch, bulletin, or spectacle. Maybe you've started to wonder what happened to me. To make it up to you for my absence, I’ve decided to tell you a little of what’s happened to me, in an autobiographical format that doesn't lean too much on the royal “we” and which instead keeps it all first-person: that is to say, welcome to this newsletter’s first journal.

(Yeesh! I find this so tiresome. I’m not a memoirist, I'm a deep-trends analyst and undercover fiction writer. But, here we are, and here we go: my sincere apologies if this homespun slop doesn’t meet our menu’s typical standards.)

But to put what’s happened to me in context, I’m going to have to go back a lot further than February 2025: in fact, let's take it back to December 2012, when I first visited Mexico City. On a whim born only the week before—though one which had doubtless germinated for years, given how much I adored Roberto Bolaño’s The Savage Detectives, which first introduced me to the metropolis in text—I flew into town just to ride a bus two more hours to nearby Teotihuacán, the archaeological site of a bustling pre-Columbian city, where I and perhaps a few hundred others would celebrate the end of the Mayan calendar.

After spending the night in a nearby hotel, the other tourists and I hurried before dawn to the gates of Teotihuacán, rushing to beat the sunrise. We made it to the Pyramid of the Sun just in time, and dawn found me standing on its top level. There, I had the peculiar sense of history bearing down on us, though I didn't put any stock in the Mayan calendar: I just thought it would be a cool place to be on a day that in recent years the popular culture had been pumping up. Nonetheless, the air buzzed with anticipation as hundreds or even thousands gathered, drumming, chanting, and embracing the dawn of a new era. The energy was electric, a mix of mysticism and celebration, as if the ancient city itself pulsed with renewed life. As the sun rose over Teotihuacán, I closed my eyes and breathed it all in, feeling as if I had witnessed something extraordinary, even if the world kept turning just as it always had.

Then I took a nap on top of that pyramid for a couple hours.

After returning to Mexico City, I had the pleasure of launching one of my life’s great friendships when I met the host for my couchsurfing, who goes by the name of Chessterina and who on that trip introduced me to the pleasures of her neighborhood, Coyoacán: for example, the legendary bar El Hijo del Cuervo, and Museo Frida Kahlo. Chessterina would become the host on every trip I made to Mexico City until 2019, allowing me to sleep in a room above Estación del Té, the now-shuttered coffeeshop in Benito Juarez that she operated with her friend Marina (and now mine too), among others like then-barista Rodro, guitarist for the phenomenal Molinette Cinema.

For years after we met, I would spend college semesters for both my bachelor’s and master’s degrees in my hometown of Minneapolis, and spring breaks and summers in my room above Chessterina’s coffeeshop in Mexico City. On these trips I met my friend Dr. Edgar Avendaño Mejía, who has hosted me a few times since 2019, and whom longtime subscribers will remember from a spectacle posted last year, and who also introduced premium subscribers of this newsletter (as well as those familiar with my earlier podcast miniseries) to one of my life’s darker episodes. That transpired In March of 2018 when, on my second day back in Mexico, I had an epileptic seizure while descending a tile staircase in Estación del Té.

Not having yet lived through the 2020–’23 coronavirus pandemic, I hadn’t developed the same distrust of pharmaceuticals that characterizes me now. I never thought my anxiety medication would betray me, but looking back, the warning signs were there all along: the year before my worst seizure, the smaller ones had already begun—brief, disorienting jolts that I brushed off as stress or exhaustion. These included one attack that occurred while I was eating a torta in the park across the street from Estación del Té on St. Patrick’s Day 2017, one of several near-death experiences on that day that inspired Chessterina to nickname me Patricio, which of course bears some resemblance to the name “Patrizio”—as in “Patrizio della Luna.” (In the Nahuatl language, “Mexico” means “navel of the moon.”)

The fact that St. Patrick’s Day 2017 was the theatrical release date for T2 Trainspotting—the underrated cinematic sequel (as opposed to the unremarkably literary one) for the famous tale of Scottish heroin addicts—should have clued me in to the reality of my drug problem. I had been on benzodiazepines for years, leaning on them like a crutch, unaware (or unwilling to admit) that my body had become dependent. Then, one day, as I descended the stairs, everything unraveled. A sudden, violent convulsion took hold, and I lost control, my body collapsing before I could even register what was happening. Fortunately, my friends at Estación del Té managed to get my unconscious body to Star Médica, the private hospital in Colonia Roma, where the doctors gave me a 50/50 chance of survival.

Through a friend in Minneapolis, those in Mexico City managed to get in touch with my father, who cashed in his 401(k) to travel and negotiated with the travel insurance provider from my own airline ticket to have my body returned to Minneapolis on a private plane.

Some two-and-a-half weeks later, I woke up out of a coma in the middle of the night, slowly becoming aware of my endotracheal intubation. My first conscious thought was, “This doesn’t belong here,” and I removed the intubation myself—a very ill-advised decision, though I was fortunate enough not to suffer the damage to my vocal cords and trachea that it risked—before I stepped out of bed to use the bathroom, though of course my weakened legs couldn’t support my weight and I collapsed to floor, where I immediately began emptying my bowels. Nurses rushed into my bedroom, and I learned then that I had been in a coma and that they hadn’t been sure if I would ever wake up. But I survived, and then began frustrating months of physical and occupational therapy before returning to graduate school for the summer semester, where (I’m proud to say) I still finished my master’s degree a semester early despite my medical catastrophe.

Acquiring that degree opened the doors for me to high-income professional contracts, while the combination of travel insurance and Minnesota’s medical benefits for low-income taxpayers (as I’d been while in my coma) meant that I didn’t suffer the financial handicap of hospital bills. But my father hadn’t been so lucky, after cashing in his 401(k). Accordingly, he began to consider more seriously the idea of retiring in Mexico, where his social security would buy him a lifestyle of near-luxury compared to what he’d enjoy in the U.S. In the interest of paying him back, I decided to help.

However, I didn’t have many years as a high-earner, and not having had the savings or job history then and having too much student debt to purchase a home outright in the U.S., I eagerly invested in a pre-construction property in Puerto Vallarta, where the sea-level would better accommodate my father’s weakening lungs, signing papers in November 2019 for a condominium scheduled for delivery in February 2021—a span of time during which I’d earn enough to cover the purchase, and come out of it with a property worth much more than the cost.

Guess what happened in the meantime! That’s right: the governments of the world shut down the economy for fear of the newly declared coronavirus pandemic. But Mexico didn’t shut down to the same degree: as I recall, the country’s state of emergency lasted only two months before essential industries like construction started operating again. (Forgive me if these “journal” posts don’t put the same effort into fact-checking.) Still, the blow to projects like that in which I’d invested proved difficult for real estate developers to overcome.

Though the one developing the condominium project in which I’d invested still managed to limp along another year—during which time my father and I rented a home in Puerto Vallarta, where we drove from Minneapolis in January 2021 with a van full of his furniture that we put into storage, then expecting the condominium’s delivery before the end of the sales contract’s grace period in August of that year—slow sales led to payroll suspensions that led in turn to workers’ strikes, during which time the end of pandemic unemployment benefits forced my return to the U.S., with my father following some six months later to take advantage of Medicare as he addressed some newfound health concerns.

Though bridging loans allowed construction to begin again in the second half of that year, it only lasted a few months before the bank that had provided the developer his original mortgage placed a lien on the property after losing a court case (and its appeal against the judgment) that would likely force the liquidation of its assets—and then another lien appeared from the financier who provided the aforementioned bridging loan. Thus began about two years of annexes and modifications to my original sales contract while the developer continued courting other financiers, forwarding their letters of interest to myself and the other buyers to prove he was trying, and doing his best to sweeten our deals so as not to have to refund us with money that he didn’t have—or, otherwise, which he’d done his best to hide. During this time, my work as a consultant in technical writing kept me employed in lucrative positions, though ones in which the terms of the companies’ leases for their laptops kept me from working abroad.

Finally, toward the end of 2023, I’d had all I could stomach of the opportunity cost of having my savings tied up in a project that may never be completed. On the advice of my real estate agent and of the attorney I’d hired in the interim, I negotiated a termination agreement: supposedly those are easier to enforce than the refund protocols contained in the sales contract, if it should come to litigation. The developer signed that termination agreement in February 2024 before sending it to my attorney, and I returned to Mexico in April (my first time visiting since I left in 2021) to supply my own signature, and to finally acquire a temporary residency visa if, as expected, the developer failed to pay me and I needed to initiate litigation—and also taking the time to meet Marina and Chessterina at the latter’s new deli.

That termination agreement mandated the payment of my investment and contractual penalties by June 2024, with further penalties agreed upon if that payment didn’t arrive. Of course it didn’t, and so my attorneys filed a brief in the federal court in Guadalajara. Naturally I trusted them to handle my case with integrity; but instead, they deceived me. By August 2024, the court had already dismissed it as improperly formatted and inconsistent, but one of those attorneys misled me, claiming that the court had only requested an explanation while charging me for drafting a response. In reality, he was supposed to file a second brief, but he never did.

Of course, something else happened that same August: Mexico’s federal judiciary initiated an indefinite strike to protest then-President Andrés Manuel López Obrador’s proposed reforms, which aimed to transition the appointment of judges and magistrates to a popular vote system. The judiciary argued that this change threatened judicial independence and disrupted the balance of power. The strike led to the suspension of federal court activities nationwide, impacting legal proceedings and raising concerns among investors and international observers. After nearly two months, the strike concluded in October 2024, though the judiciary continued to express opposition to the reforms, emphasizing the potential risks to the rule of law.

In the meantime, I negotiated with my employer to allow me to continue working for them from Mexico on a laptop matching theirs which I purchased only for the purpose of continuing to work, where I could oversee my case and take some greater comfort from simple proximity.

That judicial strike gave my duplicitous attorneys some cover for neglecting to file a second brief. Then, in November, the one who misled me in August lied to me again, telling me he had filed a motion for continuance—something that was impossible, given that the original brief had been dismissed and no second brief had been submitted. I would continue waiting for the federal courts to admit my case until this past January, when my inquiries with another attorney revealed the dishonesty of those I’d hired, which likely constituted the crime of simulating a legal or judicial act.

So, in February this year—on the same day I released the spectacle featuring the esteemed Daniel Natal, in fact—I returned to Puerto Vallarta, where I hired a new attorney and proceeded to liquidate the storage unit for my father’s furniture that I’d rented since 2021. Selling that furniture felt like dismantling my childhood piece by piece. Every item held memories for me—lazy Sunday mornings, family dinners, the quiet comfort of a home that no longer existed. Trading away the furniture I had grown up with, I felt a deep, aching sorrow settle in, selling off the tangible evidence of a life that had once been whole. The echoes of laughter, the warmth of familiar spaces, all reduced to price tags and transactions. And when the unit was finally empty, I stood there, staring at the hollow space, knowing I had just lost something I could never get back, and knowing meanwhile that my fight to recover my financial investment would continue for months or years.

Spending a month in Puerto Vallarta felt like dipping a toe into the life I wanted but couldn’t quite claim as my own. I wandered the cobblestone streets, drank mezcalitas at sunset, and let the ocean breeze convince me, if only for a moment, that I belonged. But the other gringos—the ones who had made this place their home—moved with an ease I envied. They had figured it out, found the way to stay, to trade in the grind for golden afternoons and slow, sun-drenched mornings. I watched them stride confidently toward the beach, their tan lines permanent, while I remained a visitor, counting down the days until my departure, knowing I’d be leaving behind more than just a vacation.

Now I’m back in Mexico City, the city I’ve always preferred above all others, waiting again for news of progress in the courts—which I understand have admitted the latest brief, assuming I can trust my lawyer’s word—and still caught between past and future, haunted by thoughts of what could have been. When I first decided to invest in a pre-construction property in Puerto Vallarta, I never imagined I’d end up trapped in a nightmare of uncertainty: I only wanted to pay back my father with a beautiful retirement in paradise. Obviously I regret taking the risk I did, investing in a real estate development that’s still only half-finished more than five years after work first started. But the best I can do now is wait on the courts and hope that the dream I bought into doesn’t turn into a total loss.

Meanwhile, other aspects of my life now demand my attention: a business slowdown at the company where I’ve been working as a consultant for the past two years has led them to trim their staff, meaning that as of April Fool’s Day, I’ll be out of a job. But still I walk the streets, sip coffee on rooftops, and let the city’s hum drown out the echoes of dead dreams, of failed investments, and of ongoing legal battles swirling around me as I wait for the resolution with which I can finally move forward.

Even so, I remind myself that life goes on, and that someday this chapter will end as so many others have: with a new beginning. Until then, at least, I have the free time again to distract myself with new issues of this newsletter. A lot has happened in the past month to introduce fresh chapters of many stories I’ve been covering, and to give me a lot of content to produce and release. So, if you’ve made it this far, think about supporting my work as a premium subscriber: help me see some return on the time invested to distract myself while I wait to see if I can recover my losses. The story isn’t over yet. Let’s turn the page together—because, trust me: there’s plenty more to come.

Here Zach interviews Daniel Natal—author of Actionable Ethics (2022) and host of the now-on-hiatus The Daniel Natal Show, on which Zach appeared last year—about the historical and contemporary implications of the international bond market for geopolitics.

Daniel first explains (at ~2:45) the historical development of the international bond market and how the current Anglo-American financial system evolved from when the Baring Brothers created the concept of an international market for sovereign debt in the 18th century, allowing for cross-border investment in government bonds that financed infrastructure projects, wars, and nation-building efforts. Accordingly, Daniel emphasizes the bond market’s role in shaping global events through sovereign debt, detailing how this system has influenced revolutions, nation-building, and economic policies worldwide, explaining how the British Empire used financial instruments to create new countries and reshape global politics, citing examples from South America and Europe.

Through this lens the interlocutors discuss the potential purchase of Greenland and the historic role of the bond market in maintaining economic stability in comparison to its current fragility, particularly in Europe, where negative interest rates emerged in the previous decade. Daniel references (at ~10:34) Edward Dowd’s analysis of the 2020–’23 coronavirus pandemic as a potential cover for protecting the bond market.

Discussing (at ~21:04) the impact of technological changes on global governance, Daniel considers the potential implications of cryptocurrency and digital currencies on traditional financial systems. He explains how these technologies could further disrupt existing power structures and potentially lead to new forms of governance, with the current financial system therefore required to adapt to these new realities. From there, Daniel suggests (at ~29:46) potential solutions to the current system, advocating for a return to more traditional, community-based social structures, emphasizing the importance of family and local governance as alternatives to the current global financial system that he calls (at ~35:39) “anti-human.”

Their conversation also ranges (at ~52:08) across the future of nation-states and financial systems, potentially leading to the emergence of smaller, more localized systems. Daniel explains how technology is driving this change, comparing it (at ~1:21:36) to how industrial revolutions have historically disrupted social structures, leading to urbanization, family breakdown, and social problems. To address these, he favors Robert Owen’s vision of community-based solutions and criticizes modern society’s attempts to address symptoms rather than underlying social issues. This modern society, he tells us (at ~1:24:32) lacks effective social machinery compared to traditional religious institutions, with the focus on economic metrics over social cohesion has led to surveillance states and technological solutions rather than addressing fundamental human needs.

Returning to the potential disruptions that emerging financial technologies may present, he warns (at ~1:27:00) about the potential dangers of cryptocurrency systems, particularly how they could be used to implement expiration dates on money, prevent wealth accumulation, and force constant participation in the economic system. He also discusses how this connects to broader issues of social control and the treatment of less economically productive demographics, such as elderly populations.

The conversation concludes (at ~1:29:44) with a discussion of solutions, emphasizing the importance of returning to family-centered, community-based social structures. Daniel argues that the answer lies not in new economic systems, but in restoring traditional social bonds and human-centered ways of living.

On the whole, Daniel presents a compelling critique of the modern financial system that emphasizes its historic role in shaping global events and its increasing fragility today. He warns of the dangers posed by emerging financial technologies while advocating for a return to traditional, community-based social structures as a means of restoring stability and human-centered governance. Ultimately, the discussion underscores the tension between financial globalization and localized social resilience, leaving us with much to consider about the future of economic and political systems—which we here at Radio Free Pizza will surely continue working to unpack.

Last week’s bulletin covered tariffs that the Trump Administration imposed on Canada, Mexico, and China, and proposed that such could inadvertently act as a catalyst for establishing the North American Union between the U.S., Canada, and Mexico, even as it seems to push countries further apart initially. Of course, just a day later, President Trump delayed his 25% tariff on imports from Canada and Mexico for 30 days after both nations agreed to fortify their borders with additional troops, though a 10% tariff on Chinese imports still took effect.

Meanwhile, Chinese countermeasures became clearer after the country imposed its own 15% tariff on certain types of coal and liquefied natural gas, as well as a 10% tariff on crude oil, agricultural machinery, and large vehicles. Additionally, China imposed export controls on over two dozen metal products, including tungsten and tellurium, which are crucial for industrial and defense applications. The Chinese government also added U.S. companies Illumina and PVH Group to its “unreliable entities” list, accusing them of violating market principles, and launched an anti-monopoly investigation into Google.

But that wasn’t the only example either of escalating tensions between the two superpowers, or the only one of U.S. aggressions in Latin America: at the start of this month, U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio arrived in Panama—which devotees will know took center stage in one of our first year’s dispatches—to begin his tour of five Central American and Caribbean nations (Panama, El Salvador, Guatemala, Costa Rica, and the Dominican Republic) focusing on immigration, drug trafficking, and countering Chinese influence. That tour started hot on the heels not just of President Trump’s opening salvo in a trade war, but of his false claims during his inaugural address that China controls the Panama Canal, and his vows to take it back. This follows his earlier accusations that Chinese soldiers operate the canal, a claim which both Panama and China have strongly denied. Panamanian President José Raúl Mulino reiterated that no foreign nation interferes with the canal, which has been fully controlled by the Panama Canal Authority since 1999.

U.S. concerns naturally stem from China’s growing economic presence in Panama and influence in Latin America, especially after Panama cut diplomatic ties with Taiwan in 2017 and joined China’s Belt and Road Initiative (BRI). While China does not own or operate the canal, Chinese companies, including Hong Kong-based Hutchison Port Holdings, manage two major ports near the waterway. China is also the canal’s second-largest user and has invested heavily in Panama’s infrastructure.

Though President Mulino rejected Secretary Rubio’s push for the return of the Panama Canal to U.S. control, the latter’s warning of potential retaliation if Chinese control over the canal area was not reduced compelled Panama to announce its withdraws from China’s BRI two days after Rubio’s arrival and to terminate a key development deal with Beijing and to begin an audit of Hutchison Port Holding’s canal operations that could lead to a rebidding process.

Later that week, the U.S. State Department claimed that Panama had agreed to no longer charge transit fees for U.S. government vessels passing through the canal, but Secretary Rubio soon walked that claim back after President Mulino strongly denied it. The Panama Canal Authority (ACP) confirmed no fee changes had been made but expressed willingness to discuss the matter with U.S. officials.

In response to Panama’s withdrawal from the BRI, China criticized the U.S. for “coercion” and accused Washington of undermining its infrastructure program, which has faced concerns over debt and environmental impact.

But few if any countries in the Western Hemisphere have the capacity to resist U.S. influence. As the sole superpower in the Americas, last century’s premiere empire needs now to adapt to a multipolar world, as ZeroHedge argued last week. In their view, President Trump’s tariffs on Mexico, Canada, China, and possibly the EU, along with his deportation policies, attempts to reclaim the Panama Canal, and interest in purchasing Greenland, all reflect a shift in U.S. strategy to adapt to a multipolar world. This marks a departure from the post-World War II globalist approach, aligning domestic economic policies with geopolitical interests.

Secretary Rubio himself acknowledged this shift, stating that the U.S. must now prioritize its own interests rather than maintaining a unipolar global order. Historically, the U.S. followed protectionist trade policies until the Cold War, when it embraced free trade to strengthen its capitalist allies. The Trump administration is reversing this, using tariffs to reinforce U.S. influence over Mexico and Canada, curb China’s economic power, and protect domestic industries. Deportations are framed as an economic and geopolitical necessity, while reclaiming the Panama Canal and acquiring Greenland align with the Monroe Doctrine, signaling a retreat from globalist policies. The closure of USAID further reflects this shift, as the U.S. moves away from funding foreign interventions and political movements.

But naturally, these policy changes also have financial implications, particularly for cryptocurrency markets, with some arguing that Trump’s tariffs could drive Bitcoin prices higher. (We here at Radio Free Pizza seem to have been thinking along the same lines, with our last bulletin having explored how the cryptocurrency sector reacted to these changes, especially with Trump’s recent executive order on digital assets—doubtless a push toward the cashless society discussed in our subsequent spectacle.) Investors are monitoring how these geopolitical moves impact market trends and potential buying opportunities.

Of course, some disagree: as retired Colonel Douglas Macgregor explained (at ~31:07) last week in an interview with Edmund DeMarche of The Trends Journal, the U.S. has “no reason to go into Panama. The Chinese are either end of the canal conducting repairs and harbor improvements […] The reason the Panamanian government hired them is because our firms in the United States declined to do the work. So if you really don’t want the Chinese down there on that canal in any shape or form, pick up the phone, call Beijing and say, ‘We’ll buy out your contracts.’ And then we’ll send our contractors down there. We've got to get out of this business of assuming, ‘Oh there’s a danger there to us,’ and so forth. It’s nonsense.”

Still, we must disagree here with Macgregor, or rather, add a caveat: the U.S. has no reason to go to Panama and assume control of the canal unless the country has decided to surrender international hegemony in favor of becoming one of the world’s “ten kingdoms” as the center of a regional bloc.

But others see less rhyme or reason: while investors might look for buying opportunities, the uncertainty surrounding these tariffs is already impacting the U.S. economy, leading businesses to pause hiring and investment. Many business owners, including those in retail and manufacturing, fear higher costs and declining profits. Overall, the tariff uncertainty is hurting business confidence, slowing hiring, and threatening economic growth. Many executives feel more stressed, and 47% cite economic uncertainty as their biggest concern heading into 2025.

Meanwhile, other economic indicators suggest headwinds, with canal traffic now below pre-2023 drought levels—except for container ships, which continue to operate efficiently due to priority scheduling—though Trump has linked delays to China without evidence. China of course urged Panama to resist U.S. interference and prioritize long-term bilateral relations, but given the apparent shift in U.S. geopolitical doctrines—and the physical proximity from which it can exercise force to achieve its aims—few seem to expect Panama to follow that advice.

As U.S. expansionist policies in Latin America continue to unfold, Panama’s response to American pressure serves as a clear example of the shifting geopolitical landscape. While the Trump Administration’s moves—tariffs, deportations, and efforts to reassert control over strategic assets—reflect a broader strategy of adapting to a multipolar world (one in which the U.S. seems to regard China as chief among rivals), the economic and political consequences remain uncertain. Investors are weighing opportunities, businesses are grappling with instability, and the future of U.S.-China relations in the region remains highly contested. Whether Panama and other Latin American nations can resist U.S. influence or will ultimately realign with Washington’s vision remains an open question—one we will continue to track closely.

In this interview, Zach hosts Golden Monarch from Golden Monarch News to discuss cryptocurrency and its political implications implications. Golden Monarch introduces himself with an explanation of his journey from being an early cryptocurrency investor to becoming a critic of the industry, describing how his experiences led him to realize that cryptocurrency was part of a larger scheme controlled by wealthy elites and financial institutions.

With his background established, Golden Monarch discusses (at ~4:19) how cryptocurrency has evolved from being a revolutionary concept to a tool for control, explaining how politicians like RFK Jr. and Tulsi Gabbard began promoting Bitcoin—and how this coincided with increased involvement from major financial institutions like BlackRock and Coinbase. Golden Monarch of course expresses concerns (at ~11:19) about the transition from cryptocurrency to Central Bank Digital Currencies (CBDCs) and how this could lead to increased surveillance and control over people’s financial lives, with Bitcoin and other cryptocurrencies serving a coordinated effort to implement a cashless society.

After detailing (at ~11:46) how Bitcoin’s algorithm works, including the halving process and its energy consumption, Golden Monarch explains how market manipulation occurs through coordinated buying and selling by wealthy investors and institutions. The discussion turns next (at ~17:59) to individuals like Michael Saylor and Donald Trump, examining their roles in promoting cryptocurrency. Golden Monarch describes Saylor’s debt-driven Bitcoin strategy and Trump’s recent embrace of cryptocurrency, and recommends (at ~22:28) increased scrutiny of politicians promoting cryptocurrency, particularly those with ties to Wall Street and Zionist interests.

Golden Monarch elaborates (at ~56:28) on his theory that Bitcoin has become “Zionist Bitcoin,” while discussing how Israeli cyberpunks and U.S. intelligence agencies may have played a role in its development. He connects this to current geopolitical events and cryptocurrency adoption in countries like El Salvador. On the whole, he emphasizes (at ~1:26:55) the need for society to address issues like reparations and healthcare, rather than focusing on cryptocurrency.

Golden Monarch presents a compelling critique of cryptocurrency, arguing that what once seemed like a decentralized financial revolution has instead become a tool for institutional control and geopolitical influence. Through his analysis, he highlights how major financial entities, politicians, and intelligence agencies have shaped the crypto landscape, steering it toward a cashless society that could enable greater surveillance and financial manipulation. His insights challenge the mainstream narratives around Bitcoin and other digital assets, urging greater scrutiny of those promoting them—especially those with ties to Wall Street and global power structures. Going forward, we here at Radio Free Pizza will try to follow his advice.