The west also needs bigger, more menacing and more permanent enemies than Iraq or Syria. Helpfully one kind -- nebulous "terrorism" -- is the inevitable reaction to western war-making. The more brown people we kill, the more brown people we can justify killing because they carry out, or support, "terrorism" against us. Their hatred for our bombs is an irrationality, a primitivism we must keep stamping out with more bombs.
But concrete, identifiable enemies are needed too. Russia, Iran and China give superficial credence to the war machine's presentation of itself as a "defense" industry. The UK's bases around the globe and Boris Johnson's  �16 billion rise in spending on the UK's war industries only make sense if Britain is under a constant, existential threat. Not just someone with a suspicious backpack on the London Tube, but a sophisticated, fiendish enemy that threatens to invade our lands, to steal resources to which we claim exclusive rights, to destroy our way of life through its masterful manipulation of the internet.
Crushed or tamedAnyone of significance who questions these narratives that rationalize and perpetuate war is the enemy too. Current political and legal dramas in the US and UK reflect the perceived threat such actors pose to the war machine. They must either be crushed or tamed into subservience.
Trump was initially just such a figure that needed breaking in. The CIA and other intelligence agencies assisted in the organized opposition to Trump -- helping to fuel the evidence-free Russiagate "scandal" -- not because he was an awful human being or had authoritarian tendencies, but for two more specific reasons.
First, Trump's political impulses, expressed in the early stages of his presidential campaign, were to withdraw from the very wars the US empire depends on. Despite open disdain for him from most of the media, he was criticized more often for failing to prosecute wars enthusiastically enough rather than for being too hawkish. And second, even as his isolationist impulses were largely subdued after the 2016 election by the permanent bureaucracy and his own officials, Trump proved to be an even more disastrous salesman for war than George W Bush. Trump made war look and sound exactly as it is, rather than packaging it as "intervention" intended to help women and people of color.
But Trump's amateurish isolationism paled in comparison to two far bigger threats to the war machine that emerged over the past decade. One was the danger -- in our newly interconnected, digital world -- of information leaks that risked stripping away the mask of US democracy, of the "shining city on the hill," to reveal the tawdry reality underneath.
Julian Assange and his Wikileaks project proved just such a danger. The most memorable leak -- at least as far as the general public was concerned -- occurred in 2010, with publication of a classified video, titled Collateral Murder, showing a US air crew joking and celebrating as they murdered civilians far below in the streets of Baghdad. It gave a small taste of why western "humanitarianism" might prove so unpopular with those to whom we were busy supposedly bringing "democracy."
The threat posed by Assange's new transparency project was recognized instantly by US officials.
Exhibiting a carefully honed naivety, the political and media establishments have sought to uncouple the fact that Assange has spent most of the last decade in various forms of detention, and is currently locked up in a London high-security prison awaiting extradition to the US, from his success in exposing the war machine. Nonetheless, to ensure his incarceration till death in one of its super-max jails, the US empire has had to conflate the accepted definitions of "journalism" and "espionage," and radically overhaul traditional understandings of the rights enshrined in the First Amendment.
Dress rehearsal for a coup
An equally grave threat to the war machine was posed by the emergence of Jeremy Corbyn as the leader of Britain's Labour party. Corbyn presented as exceptional a problem as Assange.
Before Corbyn, Labour had never seriously challenged the UK's dominant military-industrial complex, even if its support for war back in the 1960s and 1970s was often tempered by its then-social democratic politics. It was in this period, at the height of the Cold War, that Labour prime minister Harold Wilson was suspected by British elites of failing to share their anti-Communist and anti-Soviet paranoia, and was therefore viewed as a potential threat to their entrenched privileges.
As a BBC dramatized documentary from 2006 notes, Wilson faced the very real prospect of enforced "regime change," coordinated by the military, the intelligence services and members of the royal family. It culminated in a show of force by the military as they briefly took over Heathrow airport without warning or coordination with Wilson's government. Marcia Williams, his secretary, called it a "dress rehearsal" for a coup. Wilson resigned unexpectedly soon afterwards, apparently as the pressure started to take its toll.
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