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The American Gulag 2026

Rebecca Gordon

The March 4, 2026, edition of the Arizona Daily Star put the facts succinctly: “A Haitian asylum seeker held for four months at Florence Correctional Center died Monday at a Scottsdale hospital due to complications from an infected tooth.” It seems the infection spread from his tooth to his lungs, and he developed the pneumonia that killed him.

In other words, U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) allowed a prisoner to die of a toothache. His name was Emmanuel Damas. He was 56 years old and the father of two.

And we can only expect medical treatment at ICE centers to deteriorate further. As Judd Legum at Popular Information reported in January 2026:

“ICE… has not paid any third-party providers for medical care for detainees since October 3, 2025. Last week, ICE posted a notice on an obscure government website announcing it will not begin processing such claims until at least April 30, 2026. Until then, medical providers are instructed ‘to hold all claims submissions.’”

Emmanuel Damas’s unnecessary death would be outrageous enough, were it the only one of its kind. In fact, 32 people died in ICE custody during 2025, the most in two decades. Another six died in January 2026 alone, among them Geraldo Lunas Campos, a Cuban father aged 55, at Camp East Montana detention center in El Paso, Texas.

Although ICE initially claimed Lunas Campos had attempted suicide, the American Immigration Council reports that “the El Paso County Medical Examiner ruled his death was a homicide arising from asphyxia due to neck and torso compression.” Of course, it’s pretty hard to strangle yourself to death. Witnesses, however, described his murder this way: “Mr. Lunas Campos was handcuffed, while at least five guards held him down and one guard squeezed his neck until he was unconscious.” At least one other man has died at the Camp East Montana detention center, where tuberculosis and measles are also spreading.

Damas and Lunas Campos were among the roughly 73,000 people whom ICE currently holds in a tangle of detention camps sprawled across the country. And more centers are under construction. Many of them are former warehouses designed to function, as ICE acting director Todd Lyons put it last year, “like Amazon Prime for human beings.” (Like many Trump appointees, Lyons has not received Senate confirmation. His actual title, according to ICE, is “Senior Official Performing the Duties of the Director of U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement.”)

What Is a Concentration Camp?

Taken together, this network of prisons or, more accurately, concentration camps, constitutes an American gulag. “Gulag” is not so much a word as a Russian initialism that came to stand for the Soviet Union’s concentration camp program, originally developed under Joseph Stalin. The term stands for “Main Directorate of Correctional Labor Camps” and originally referred to the officials running the camps. Later, “gulag” came to indicate the camps themselves, which were a central instrument of Soviet political repression. Most Americans first learned about those camps through Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn’s 1973 internationally bestselling memoir, The Gulag Archipelago.

As Andrea Pitzer, author of One Long Night: A Global History of Concentration Camps, has written, such institutions are a relatively recent phenomenon. While human beings have long contrived ways to isolate groups they identify as enemies — for example, in the enclosed Jewish ghettos of medieval Europe — the modern concentration camp evolved thanks to two key inventions: barbed wire and the machine gun. That pair of technological advances made it possible for a small number of guards to control and contain a large number of people in one place.

Concentration camps have a number of defining features:

Concentration camps exist outside regular legal structures. The people they hold are not prisoners, but detainees. So, we find people of all ages, from infants to ancients, in concentration camps. In most cases, they have not been tried or convicted of any crime. Rather, they are held because of their status, for example, as non-citizens, or in the case of Japanese-American citizens imprisoned during World War II, because of their ethnicity or national origin. This is true for the people held in ICE detention today. Their alleged offenses are against U.S. civil, not criminal law, and their detention exists outside of any court system, including the immigration courts run by the Department of Justice’s Executive Office for Immigration Review. Immigration judges, who are really administrative employees, can’t order anyone detained. That’s up to ICE and its umbrella agency, the Department of Homeland Security (DHS).

Concentration camp inmates are civilians, not soldiers, which places them conveniently outside the strictures of the Geneva Conventions. That’s why the U.S. has never recognized the men it has held and, in the case of 15 prisoners, continues to hold as prisoners of war in the U.S. prison at Guantánamo Bay, Cuba. In the 1990s, almost a decade before the naval station at Guantánamo was first used to house detainees in the “global war on terror,” the U.S. held immigrants there, including as many as 50,000 Haitians and Cubans. Trump’s January 29, 2025, executive order entitled “Expanding Migrant Operations Center At Naval Station Guantánamo Bay To Full Capacity” directed the Defense and Homeland Security departments to prepare to hold as many as 30,000 migrant detainees there. As of July 2025, the camp held detainees from Africa, Asia, Europe, and the Caribbean.

Concentration camps are associated with authoritarian regimes. They function both as a direct form of repression and, no less importantly, as a warning to the rest of the population about what could happen to those who resist the regime. In this sense, concentration camps are very much like another tool of repression, institutionalized state torture, about which I wrote in my book Mainstreaming Torture. Like state torture, concentration camps perform a kind of national security theater, made all the more entrancing by its quasi-secret nature. In the case of ICE detention camps, the DHS has made a show of not permitting local officials or members of Congress to enter those facilities. But such detention centers can’t fulfill their full repressive function if people don’t know anything about what goes on in them. So, we have the spectacle of a hearing in which a congresswoman asked then-DHS secretary Kristi Noem about a double amputee who “has to crawl through mold and feces and bodily fluids just to take a shower.” Knowing that this is happening to people who have almost no recourse is intended to have a chilling effect on political action.

Concentration camps are not death camps, but people do die there. Many Americans tend to think that all German concentration camps were sites of direct extermination. In fact, the Nazis constructed six camps specifically designed for the industrialized murder of their inhabitants. But for a decade before the first death camp was even opened, prisoners had already been concentrated in thousands of “labor” camps. In fact, they were not there to be killed directly, but to be removed from society. As the National World War II Museum in New Orleans explains, “Initially, the population of these concentration camps were not usually Jews, but Communists, socialists, Roma and Sinti, Jehovah’s witnesses, gay men, and ‘asocial’ elements (alcoholics, criminals, people with mental disabilities, the poor).” Notably, like undocumented people in the U.S. today, these were groups who then received little sympathy from the larger German population. The conditions they encountered — lack of food and medical care, crowding, and unsanitary conditions — sickened and killed as many as a third of those who passed through them.

A Brief History of U.S. Concentration Camps

The Soviet gulag was not the world’s first concentration camp, although such institutions are, in fact, a relatively recent phenomenon. Human beings have long contrived to isolate groups they identify as enemies, as Americans at times did with enslaved Africans and the native peoples of this continent. Indeed, when the Cherokee nation was evicted from its lands under the 1830 Indian Removal Act and forced to travel the “Trail of Tears,” many of them were kept for some time in “emigration depots” in Alabama and Tennessee.

Almost everyone in this country has heard of Nazi Germany’s camps, but the history of the modern concentration camp really began at the end of the nineteenth century. As Andrea Pitzer recounted in a recent interview, Americans first became aware of such camps in the 1890s, when Spain instituted a policy of reconcentración in its efforts to put down a rebellion in Cuba. As has happened in ICE detention camps today, malnourished men, women, and children were shoved into holding camps there, where crowded conditions and poor sanitation led many to sicken and die. News of the horrifying conditions in Cuba led Americans to organize material aid for those being held.

The United States then dispatched the battleship Maine to accompany the ships carrying relief supplies to Cuba. When the Maine sank in Havana harbor under murky circumstances, the U.S. government had the pretext it needed to mount a military campaign against the remnants of Spanish colonial control in the Americas and the Pacific. That relatively short war ended with the U.S. in possession of most of Spain’s remaining colonies, including the island of Puerto Rico, and what would eventually become the nation of the Philippines. Almost immediately, the new American colonizers reproduced in the Philippines the kind of reconcentración camps they had supposedly gone to war to eradicate in Cuba. In another parallel with the twenty-first century, it was during the occupation of the Philippines that U.S. forces invented the form of torture we have come to call “waterboarding.”

Most Americans know about President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s 1942 executive order creating 10 concentration camps to hold people of Japanese descent, about two-thirds of whom were U.S. citizens mostly living in the western United States. Over 120,000 men, women, and children were interned for the duration of World War II. Many lost their homes, farms, businesses, and other property (often seized by their non-Japanese neighbors). A much smaller number of Italian and German nationals were also interned, as Germans had also been during World War I.

The Japanese camps were constructed by the Works Progress Administration (WPA), the same federal agency that provided mass employment for millions during the Great Depression under Roosevelt’s New Deal program. Few Americans know that, in addition to building roads, schools, dams, and the occasional zoo, the WPA also built the barracks and strung the barbed wire that enclosed World War II internees.

ICE’s predecessor agency, the Immigration and Naturalization Service (INS), ran about 20 of those camps, primarily ones imprisoning Japanese, German, and Italian non-citizens. Three of them were built in Texas to hold people from those countries who had been deported from Latin America. (Most of them were Japanese from Peru.) Those camps were guarded by the Border Patrol, rather than the military police. In other words, ICE and U.S. Customs and Border Protection (CBP) have a long history of running the U.S. version of concentration camps. They’re used to it.

American Gulag

It’s no exaggeration to say that ICE detention camps now threaten to become a central instrument of repression under the Trump administration. As many as 40 people have died in the camps since Trump returned to office in January 2025. And those are only the deaths that have been publicly acknowledged.

If Camp East Montana is the biggest ICE camp in the country, the most notorious may well be the Florida site in the Everglades that has come to be known as “Alligator Alcatraz.” Constructed hastily over just a week, according to Amnesty International, it “houses” people in horrific conditions:

“Inside, people are crammed into overcrowded cages around bunk beds with little room to move. Food is spoiled and maggot-infested. Mosquitoes swarm constantly, showers are scarce, and extreme heat and humidity make the center unbearable. There appear to be almost no reliable or confidential means for detainees to communicate with their attorneys or family members.”

That description is echoed in the testimony of people held in ICE detention camps nationwide. A complete report on the conditions at all of those camps would run to hundreds of thousands of words. Indeed, it’s hard to get a handle on the full scope of ICE’s concentration camp program, since reports on the number and size of such camps change quickly as new ones are proposed or come online. The organization Freedom for Immigrants maintains an interactive immigration detention map which identifies at least 200 separate locations where immigrants (and the occasional U.S. citizen) are detained. And the Trump administration is not done. According to the Guardian, DHS plans to spend $3.8 billion “upgrading” 24 existing warehouses to implement ICE Acting Director Todd Lyons’s dream of treating immigrants like human widgets.

And that brings us back to the point of all this. Concentration camps exist to support and expand the power of an authoritarian regime. They make everyone afraid of being treated like the current targets of the regime. Like state torture programs, concentration camps accelerate the process of dehumanizing groups of people in the public imagination. Such a process often begins by describing the target group as non-human, as “vermin” or “garbage” (as Trump has, of course, done). Ironically, the very act of placing people in inhumane conditions can amplify the public’s perception of their inhumanity. After all, would genuine human beings submit to such treatment? Would our good nation treat genuine human beings that way?

One other significant aspect of all this: the enrichment of a few corporations. President Trump’s “Big Beautiful Bill” gave ICE upwards of $45 billion to spend on those camps, which meant that there was a lot of money to be made. Today most of them are run by two private prison companies, CoreCivic and the GEO Group. The president’s Big Beautiful Bill also allows the Department of Homeland Security to expedite that money-making by using the U.S. Navy’s Supply Systems Command program, which serves as an end-run around the usual bidding process for federal contracts.

This morning, I asked my partner whether she thought that the Trump administration could make the transition from concentration camps, where people die as a “side effect” of their internment, to actual death camps. “I think it’s possible,” she responded — and so, horribly — do I.

It’s possible, but not yet inevitable. To date, local actions have provided the most effective means of resisting the creation of the American gulag our federal government is constructing. These have included organizing to oppose siting camps in specific communities, efforts to leverage local zoning laws to stop them, and attempts to generate state-level political opposition to them. (The Washington Post had an excellent roundup of recent efforts in one county in Maryland to block such a camp.)

We know what’s at stake. We know we can dismantle the American gulag, because some of us are already doing it. It’s time for the rest of us to get to work.

[Rebecca Gordon teaches at the University of San Francisco. She is the author of Mainstreaming Torture, American Nuremberg: The U.S. Officials Who Should Stand Trial for Post-9/11 War Crimes. Courtesy: TomDispatch, a US based web-based publication, founded and edited by Tom Engelhardt, an American editor, journalist and author. It is aimed at providing “a regular antidote to the mainstream media”, by presenting critical perspectives often missing from corporate news outlets.]

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Trump’s Concentration Camps Are Not New to the U.S.

Margaret Kimberley

Donald Trump is perhaps unique among modern presidents in his determination to fulfill his very retrograde vision for the United States. He goes beyond the cajoling and arm twisting that other presidents were known for, and dispenses with precedent, the Congress and the law itself in order to realize a key part of his vision, getting as many Global South immigrants out of the U.S. as he possibly can.

He was quite serious about enacting a mass deportation policy. Immigrants attempting to follow the law and legalize their status are set upon in courtrooms by masked agents of Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) and are taken to detention facilities. Farm workers, construction workers and others are also hunted down in the businesses that employ them. Inevitably, U.S. citizens and other legal residents are also snatched up by ICE. The administration is demanding 3,000 arrests per day, an unrealistic number, and consequently, any attempt to reach it is a recipe for abuse and illegal acts.

In New York City, a youth baseball coach intervened when ICE agents questioned children in his charge. In Los Angeles, a phalanx of ICE officers descended on MacArthur Park in a search for new victims. No warrants are produced and Tom Homan, the official carrying out the effort, claims that the constitutional right to due process is now null and void.

In Florida, immigrants have been detained in a facility which is literally called Alligator Alcatraz. They are denied contact with family and attorneys and held in unsanitary conditions, served inedible food, and left without contact with the outside world.

Governor Ron DeSantis and the Department of Homeland Security play a convenient game of pointing fingers at one another as both avoid accountability regarding conditions in the facility and haven’t relented even as members of Congress condemned its very existence during a recent tour.

Inevitably, a term has reemerged that has come to epitomize the inhumane treatment of marginalized people by those who are more powerful and willing to oppress and exploit them for their own nefarious ends. Suddenly, everyone in opposition to the mass deportation plan is speaking of “concentration camps.” The cruelty cannot be ignored, and the meaning of this terminology should not become the focus of debate. But there is a danger in practicing U.S. exceptionalism by selectively forgetting that concentration camps are not new in this country.

The U.S. holds 2 million people behind bars, more than any other country, and has led with that dubious distinction for decades. Those people are held in horrendous conditions. In a Virginia prison, men set themselves on fire in a desperate effort to relieve their plight.

Prisoners provide slave labor for states and for corporations. Prisons have no air conditioning in extreme heat and lag in providing medical care. The U.S. also has the most draconian sentences in the world and police forces across the country who kill indiscriminately and keep prisons full of people who are a profit center for others.

Concentration camps existed as indigenous people were forced from their homes in the Trail of Tears and during other atrocities. Their lands were stolen to make way for a slavery based plantation economy, which was replete with conditions such as torture, starvation, and inhumane working conditions that, today, would be akin to those in concentration camps. Japanese Americans were held in camps against their will during World War II.

The current moment is one that requires telling the truth about U.S. history. Exceptionalist rhetoric claiming that Trump has brought the nation to a new and unprecedented low point is dangerous nonsense.

The damage Trump has done will outlive his presidency. When he departs, his successor will probably enjoy a political honeymoon, regardless of the actions taken by that person. Relief that the orange man is gone will likely encourage the tendency for wishful thinking and selective amnesia, making the next concentration camp all the more likely to be created.

If people are so upset about governmental cruelty, they can start by dismantling the mass incarceration state that exists throughout the country. That would be excellent preparation for closing down Alligator Alcatraz. But there is little interest in doing so. There is full support, however, for keeping thousands of other Black and Brown people locked away in the carceral state. They exist in the background and most people in the country want them to stay that way. Outrage is reserved only when the oppression is more visible and is carried out by the villain of the day.

[Margaret Kimberley is an American journalist, activist, and senior editor/writer associated with Black Agenda Report, known for sharp commentary on race, empire, policing, and U.S. politics. She is the author of Prejudential, a critique of Barack Obama and contemporary American liberal politics. Courtesy: Black Agenda Report, a US publication that gives news and analysis from the perspective of the black left.]

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Mass Incarceration Arose Out of Empire Building Across North America, Carribean and Pacific

Jeremy Kuzmarov

The United States today has by far the world’s largest incarceration rate, with nearly two million people living in prisons and jails.

The conditions in those facilities are often substandard, with Amnesty International criticizing the dehumanizing practice of holding prisoners in prolonged solitary confinement.

Benjamin Weber’s book, American Purgatory: Prison Imperialism and the Rise of Mass Incarceration, shows that mass incarceration and inhumane prison conditions emerged as a counterinsurgency strategy for pacifying Native Americans and keeping the Black population in check. U.S. leaders set up draconian prison apparatuses in colonial domains, like the Philippines, with the new forms of social control migrating home.

An assistant professor of history at the University of California at Davis, Weber writes of an “unspoken doctrine of prison imperialism” by which U.S. policy makers sought to “govern the globe through the codification and regulation of crime.”

Weber adds that, “as prison imperialism expanded outwards, it always returned home producing new forms of social control over the growing number of people ensnared in prison in the United States….The forms of policing and record keeping that gave rise to the surveillance state between World War II and the Cold War were pioneered through overseas colonialism, covert operations and military interventions.”[1]

Weber’s first chapter provides a history of Castillo de San Marcos in St. Augustine, Florida, an infamous prison where Black and Indigenous people were held captive. According to Weber, the prison represents a “cornerstone of U.S. prison imperialism,” revealing the “colonial roots and global dimensions of the U.S. carceral state.”[2]

By the 1730s, Florida’s panhandle had become home to a growing band of Black maroons, fugitives from slavery who integrated themselves with the Seminoles, the most powerful people in the region prior to the Spanish and British imperial conquests.

Hundreds of maroons lived in a Black fort on Prospect Bluff where they forged a productive community that had an extensive trading network.

Characterizing Prospect Bluff as a “hornet’s nest of bandits, outlaws and pirates,” the U.S. military launched a preemptive strike in 1816 under the orders of Andrew Jackson, whose men incinerated hundreds of the maroons and triggered the Seminole Wars which lasted for decades.

In 1837, the U.S. military took Seminole chiefs Osceola and Coacoochee (Wild Cat—the son of King Philip) prisoner in Castillo de San Marcos (renamed Fort Marion prison), which had a 30-by-20-foot dungeon and torture chamber with a rack for suspending prisoners from the wall.[3]

Fort Marion was later used to house Indian prisoners from the Western Plains and Apache prisoners taken from the Arizona Territory. Among them were 100 Apache children who were transported to the infamous Indian residential school at Carlisle Barracks in Pennsylvania where their culture was eviscerated.[4]

In the early 19th century, James Monroe proposed to Thomas Jefferson the creation of a penal colony where Blacks involved in slave revolts could be permanently banished.

The idea was later supported by Abraham Lincoln and reinvigorated in the Jim Crow South when criminologists proposed sterilization of Blacks as a way to prevent crime.

When the U.S. colonized the Philippines at the turn of the 20th century, mass incarceration became a linchpin of counterinsurgency strategy.

It was designed to suppress the nationalist rebellion and messianic peasant leaders like Felipe Salvador, a leader of the anti-Spanish resistance who was arrested by U.S. authorities on charges of sedition and sent to Bilibid Prison in Manila.[5]

Colonial officials under Police Secretary W. Cameron Forbes,[6] a former Harvard University football coach and investment banker, studied prisoners at Bilibid so they could better control them, and instituted forced labor regiments in order to create a “spectacle of degradation.”[7] Forbes believed that “jail must be made a very real and awful thing to the criminal classes.”[8]

To give off a benign appearance, reformed prisoners were transferred to the Iwahig Prison and Penal facility on Palawan Island, a 100-acre plantation where inmates grew their own food along with cash crops for export, engaged in self-policing, and could in certain circumstances bring their families and live in nearby cabins.

Iwahig was modeled after the George Junior Republic, a reform school for delinquent boys in Upstate New York that sought to create a nurturing environment while instilling discipline and a strong work ethic.[9]

Superintendent John White believed that a year or two at Iwahig “in a semi-free, hard-working, agricultural community has excellent moral and physical effect.” Criminologist John P. Gillin characterized his visits to Bilibid and Iwahig as “moving from certain hell to kingdom come.”[10]

A key goal was to coopt the Philippines nationalist movement and to get its leaders to support the U.S. colonial state—much like defector and amnesty programs in the Cold War.[11]

When the U.S. began building the Panama Canal, mostly Black prisoners were put in road gangs and forced to build up the zone’s roads and other infrastructure under hellish conditions.[12]

The treatment of prisoners in the Panama Canal Zone mirrored the convict leasing system in the Jim Crow South, where primarily Black inmates were rented out to private companies to perform manual labor for a slave wage.

Historian David Oshinsky referred to Jim Crow prisons as “worse than slavery” because, under slavery, the master was intent on protecting the health of his investment and not over-working him too much; whereas, in the Jim Crow prisons, harsh Black Codes ensured a ripe supply of prisoners, meaning that the existing ones were easily replaceable.

Reformers in the late 19th century heralded the McNeil Island penitentiary in Puget Sound off the coast of Washington State as a prison of the future, though it had a black hole dungeon where convicts were suspended in chains by the wrists and manacled to the wall if they refused to work.

This kind of treatment resembled that of inmates at Alcatraz, the notorious Devil’s Island prison in San Francisco Bay where problem prisoners were confined to “coffin cages,” 23 inches wide by 12 inches deep.

In his memoir, Philip Grosser, a conscientious objector to World War I who was placed in the “coffin cage” for two months, said that, when he entered the prison, guards told him that he and other conscientious objectors were not “white men anymore but yellow men” and “inscrutable Orientals” and that they would treat them as such when they broke the rules.

These comments epitomize the racist nature of the U.S. penal system that persists to this day. Weber emphasizes that the racial hierarchies and oppressive treatment of captives in colonial wars and inmates in colonial enclaves helped shape the mistreatment of minority groups and left-wing subversives in U.S. jails throughout the Cold War period and beyond.

The modes of counterintelligence adopted in colonial environments were routinely deployed against Black and Puerto Rican movements for self-determination within U.S. borders and on the island of Puerto Rico. In many cases the leaders of these movements found themselves incarcerated under fascist-like anti-sedition laws modeled after ones used to repress the Filipino nationalist movement.[13]

Protests against prison imperialism coalesced with the occupation of Alcatraz from 1969 to 1971 by leaders in the American Indian Movement (AIM), and more recently, with the “In the Spirit of Mandela” campaign launched in 2017 by former Black Panther Jalil Muntaqim from inside a prison in New York with the goal of convening an international tribunal to investigate violations of U.S.-held political prisoners’ human rights.[14]

The Spirit of Mandela campaign has coincided with efforts of Black Lives Matter to topple statues of Andrew Jackson, one of the original architects of prison imperialism. His white supremacist ideology lives on among pro-Trumpers and other overseers of the American prison system, whose abusive practices have deep historical roots.

Notes:

1. Benjamin D. Weber, American Purgatory: Prison Imperialism and the Rise of Mass Incarceration (New York: The New Press, 2023), xi. St. Augustine is considered America’s oldest city, having been built by the Spanish in 1565.
2. Weber, American Purgatory, 1.
3. Weber, American Purgatory, 3. Coacoochee succeeded in escaping.
4. These children included Apache Chief Geronimo’s daughter, Ih-Tedda. Geronimo was taken to another prison in Florida after authorities broke a promise to him that he and his men would not be separated from their families.
5. Weber, American Purgatory, 74, 75.
6. A Boston Brahmin whose grandfather was Ralph Waldo Emerson and whose father was president of the Bell Telephone Company and made a fortune trading in China, Forbes served as Governor-General of the Philippines from 1909 to 1913 and U.S. Ambassador to Japan from 1930 to 1932 after being appointed by President Herbert Hoover.
7. Weber, American Purgatory, 77.
8. Weber, American Purgatory, 119.
9. Weber, American Purgatory, 120.
10. Weber, American Purgatory, 119.
11. See Jeremy Kuzmarov, “Under the Façade of Benevolence: Psy-Wars, Amnesty and Defectors in America’s Asian Wars,” The International History Review, September 4, 2019, https://jeremykuzmarov.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/11/psywararticle.pdf
12. Weber, American Purgatory, 86.
13. Weber, American Purgatory, 144.
14. Weber, American Purgatory, 195. Muntaqim was charged with killing two NYPD officers.

[Jeremy Kuzmarov is an American historian, author, and journalist who serves as editor of CovertAction Magazine. His work focuses on U.S. foreign policy, covert operations, militarism, and historical critiques of empire, and he has written several books on these subjects. Courtesy: CovertAction Magazine, a U.S.-based investigative magazine focusing on intelligence agencies, covert operations, militarism, corporate power, and human rights abuses.]