Accusations from The Left are often confessions.
War has existed as long as humanity has walked the earth. It has been romanticized, painted as heroic, even necessary. But peel back the surface, and a darker truth emerges: war is an industry, one of the largest and most profitable. And when it comes to selling war to the public, governments have developed strategies that keep people in the dark about the real costs.
We rarely hear the truth about why wars are waged, who benefits, and who pays the ultimate price. Let’s go beyond the sanitized press releases and patriotic slogans to examine the methods governments use to sway public opinion, keep conflict alive, and, most importantly, keep the profits rolling.
Governments rely on powerful narratives to justify military action. It’s a simple formula: if they can create fear, they can create a demand for protection. But here’s where it gets sinister. Governments don’t just wait for a threat to arise; they often manufacture one. Think back on all the wars you’ve heard of, and a familiar pattern starts to emerge. A “crisis” appears on the world stage. Reports flood the news: a foreign leader has gone rogue, atrocities are happening, or terrorist groups are forming. These stories fill headlines, sparking fear and outrage. People don’t question the sources; they see only the danger ahead and demand action.
The result? Governments gain broad public support to send troops and deploy weapons, often to places the public barely knew existed. But behind these decisions are complex motives, often tied to financial gain, political influence, and strategic control. This fear-driven narrative is the first deception, a way to turn citizens’ emotions into consent for war.
Once the initial seed of fear is planted, the media takes over. Governments have understood for decades that control over information is essential to keep the public on board with prolonged military action. News outlets, bound by lucrative contracts with government sources and advertisers, rarely challenge the official line. This results in a flood of one-sided stories that reinforce the narrative of danger and necessity.
Government officials know how to manipulate these channels expertly, timing stories to distract from any dissent or inconvenient facts. High-ranking officials appear on news shows, talk shows, and even social media, repeating the same carefully crafted messages. It’s no coincidence that these stories dominate the headlines before major policy announcements. The media becomes an echo chamber, drowning out alternative viewpoints, leaving citizens with one overwhelming message: “This war is necessary.”
Beneath the patriotic speeches and grandstanding, the business of war thrives. Defense contractors, private security firms, and weapons manufacturers see their profits soar every time conflict breaks out. They fund political campaigns, sponsor policy research, and lobby for military expansion, ensuring that their voices are always heard in the halls of power.
For instance, look at the major players in the defense industry. These corporations supply everything from weapons to food for troops, raking in billions of dollars with every new war effort. They don’t lose when wars drag on; they win. And, in return, they support politicians and think tanks that champion more aggressive foreign policies. It’s a cycle designed to enrich a select few at the expense of everyone else.
While corporations and political elites profit, ordinary people suffer. Soldiers are sent into dangerous, high-stakes environments with the risk of physical and psychological trauma. They endure horrific conditions and witness unimaginable violence. When they return home, many are left to cope alone, battling issues like PTSD, depression, and disabilities. And veterans aren’t the only ones affected—families, communities, and entire nations are impacted by the costs of prolonged warfare.
On the other side of the conflict, the human toll is staggering. Innocent civilians are often caught in the crossfire, with families torn apart, homes destroyed, and entire communities left in ruin. The people whose lives are shattered don’t see the profits, the strategic objectives, or the patriotic speeches. They only see the destruction and loss that war brings to their lives.
Military spending consumes a massive portion of national budgets. In the U.S., for example, a large share of taxpayer dollars goes to fund the military-industrial complex. This money could be directed toward improving education, healthcare, infrastructure, and social services. Instead, it’s funneled into weapons, equipment, and bases around the world.
And the costs don’t stop once a conflict ends. Rebuilding war-torn regions, caring for veterans, and paying interest on borrowed funds used to finance wars accumulate into staggering sums. Governments burden future generations with debt that limits resources for years to come. The financial drain is felt by every citizen, who ultimately pays the price for wars that don’t benefit them in any way.
A core strategy in keeping the cycle of war alive is to ensure there’s always an “enemy.” Over the years, this enemy has shifted from one threat to another, conveniently emerging as soon as public interest wanes or the need for military funding increases. It’s not about eradicating a threat; it’s about maintaining one.
These enemies are often vague and constantly shifting—terrorist cells, rogue states, “new” global threats. This ensures that fear is ongoing and justifies continued spending and military presence. Governments can justify sending troops anywhere, under the pretense that danger lurks everywhere. This cycle ensures that the military industry’s machinery stays in motion, and there’s always a need for more funding, more intervention, and more weapons.
Beyond the physical and financial costs, there’s an often-overlooked psychological impact of living in a constant state of conflict. When citizens are continuously fed narratives of fear and danger, a sense of anxiety and helplessness begins to pervade. People start to feel they are always on the verge of the next major catastrophe.
This sense of impending doom serves a purpose. When people are afraid, they become more compliant, willing to surrender freedoms for a sense of security. They accept increased surveillance, restrictions on rights, and government intrusions into their lives—all in the name of safety. This is no accident. By creating an environment of perpetual fear, governments can keep the population under control, distracted, and unwilling to challenge authority.
The true cost of war isn’t just measured in dollars, lives, or destroyed cities; it’s the loss of truth, transparency, and trust in those who govern. When governments manipulate public opinion and pursue policies that serve corporate interests over citizens, they betray the people they claim to protect. They leave a legacy of suffering, debt, and disillusionment in their wake.
It’s time for people to question the narratives presented, look beyond the headlines, and ask hard questions about who benefits from each new war. When we dig deeper, we see that war isn’t inevitable—it’s a choice, and one that’s made for reasons rarely discussed in public. As citizens, we owe it to ourselves and future generations to hold those in power accountable and to demand a system where the true cost of war is finally exposed. Only then can we hope for a future where peace isn’t just an ideal but a reality.
In times of crisis, whether it’s a terrorist attack, a natural disaster, or a health emergency, most of us naturally look to our governments for guidance and protection. We’re told that swift, decisive action is necessary to preserve order and keep us safe. But what happens when governments use these moments of vulnerability not just to protect, but to expand their control over society? History shows that in many cases, fear is not just a reaction to danger, but a tool—one that can be skillfully wielded to justify sweeping changes in law, policy, and everyday life.
This article explores how crises, both real and exaggerated, can become opportunities for governments to stretch their powers far beyond what’s necessary. By the time the dust settles, citizens often find themselves living under new rules that infringe on freedoms, all under the guise of safety. But is it worth the cost?
Since the early 2000s, there’s been an undeniable shift in how governments respond to terrorism and threats of violence. After the 9/11 attacks, for example, the U.S. government passed the Patriot Act, a law that significantly expanded surveillance powers. Ostensibly, it was meant to keep us safe from terrorism, but in reality, it allowed the government to tap phones, monitor emails, and track financial transactions on a scale previously unimaginable.
On the surface, these actions seem reasonable. After all, who wouldn’t want to prevent another devastating attack? The problem arises when these temporary “emergency measures” become permanent fixtures. The Patriot Act was supposed to sunset, but many of its provisions have been renewed or expanded over time. As of today, they remain an entrenched part of U.S. law. What began as a response to terrorism has morphed into a vast surveillance apparatus that keeps tabs on ordinary citizens, all in the name of national security.
The lesson here is simple: once governments gain new powers, they rarely give them up. Crises serve as convenient moments to push through measures that would normally meet fierce resistance. And when the immediate danger fades, the laws don’t.
Natural disasters, too, offer governments a window to exert control. Take Hurricane Katrina, for instance. The devastation in New Orleans was unprecedented, but so was the government’s response. The federal authorities, along with the National Guard, imposed martial law in parts of the city. Property was seized, curfews were enforced, and personal freedoms were severely restricted in the name of restoring order.
These actions were presented as necessary to prevent looting and chaos, but they also set a dangerous precedent: in times of natural disaster, the government can override constitutional rights. And just as with the Patriot Act, these responses often become the new normal. Post-disaster laws in various countries have given governments greater latitude to declare states of emergency, restrict movement, and monitor civilians. What’s to stop them from extending these powers indefinitely?
Perhaps the most recent and striking example of governments using fear to expand control is the global response to the COVID-19 pandemic. In the early days of the crisis, when little was known about the virus, governments across the world acted swiftly to implement lockdowns, curfews, and travel bans. In many places, these restrictions were put in place without the usual checks and balances that protect individual rights.
Initially, these measures were presented as temporary. But as the pandemic wore on, some governments took things further, requiring citizens to present proof of vaccination to enter public spaces or even leave their homes. Those who questioned these policies were labeled as dangerous or reckless, further fueling a culture of fear and division.
The power to restrict movement, enforce quarantine, or mandate medical procedures is unparalleled. In times of health emergencies, governments can—under the guise of public safety—exercise a degree of control that would be unthinkable under normal circumstances. And while it’s true that public health is important, one has to wonder: when does the balance tip too far toward authoritarianism?
Once governments have the power to tell us where we can go and what we can do, there’s little stopping them from finding new ways to exercise that power, long after the crisis is over.
The common thread through all these examples is the use of fear as a tool. When people are scared, they are more willing to accept government overreach. Whether the fear comes from terrorism, natural disasters, or disease, the result is the same: citizens trade liberty for the promise of security, and governments quietly expand their reach.
This isn’t just a hypothetical. In countries around the world, we’ve seen how fear can be used to justify oppressive regimes. Dictators and autocrats often rise to power in times of crisis, using the instability to suspend elections, jail political opponents, or crush dissent. And even in democracies, the same pattern can be observed. Crisis moments allow governments to bypass normal processes, silence critics, and implement drastic changes under the radar.
One of the most troubling aspects of these power grabs is how difficult it is to undo them. Once a government has expanded its control, it’s rare to see those powers scaled back. In fact, the opposite tends to happen: they become institutionalized, part of the standard operating procedure for dealing with future crises.
And while citizens may initially support these measures in the heat of the moment, they often come to regret them once the immediate danger passes. Unfortunately, by then, it’s usually too late. Governments may claim that these laws are for our own good, but history suggests otherwise.
It’s important to remember that governments, by their very nature, are always seeking more control. Crisis moments offer the perfect cover to push through laws and policies that would never be accepted under normal circumstances. We must remain vigilant and question whether the measures being implemented in times of emergency are truly necessary—or whether they are just a convenient way for governments to consolidate power.
Ultimately, the best way to protect our freedoms is to recognize that fear is often weaponized. Instead of blindly accepting every new law or restriction in the name of safety, we should ask ourselves whether we’re willing to sacrifice our liberty in exchange for security—especially when that security may come at the cost of our most fundamental rights.