The Atlantic “Ideas” article had all the trappings of an insightful think piece co-authored by one of the most successful former CEOs in Silicon Valley, Eric Schmidt.
Schmidt, who headed up Google from 2001 to 2011, writing alongside Robert O. Work, described by The Atlantic as “the 32nd U.S. deputy secretary of defense,” were given over 2000 words to lay out “Offset-X,” a strategy “for the U.S. to restore the technological superiority of its military over all potential adversaries.” At the heart of their strategy is the pivot by the Department of Defense to great power competition and the rapid development and deployment of artificial intelligence technologies.
But there’s a huge potential conflict of interest that the Atlantic failed to disclose to readers on Monday: Schmidt’s venture capital firm Innovation Endeavors is an enthusiastic investor in AI products for the military. Work, for his part, is chairman of the board for Sparkcognition Government Systems, a company that describes itself as the “first full-spectrum artificial intelligence company that leverages proven commercial technologies to meet the needs of the most pressing national security missions.”
In other words, the policies advocated by the two writers in the Atlantic could provide them with direct financial benefits.
And the authors are clear about their worldview that provides an unquestioning endorsement of U.S. military primacy and global hegemony, with no acknowledgement of costs to U.S. citizens who aren’t directly invested in the expensive technology both authors are invested in promoting. They write:
Our military primacy allowed us to shape the global economy — unlocking trillions of dollars for U.S. companies and citizens — and secure the free flow of commerce that enabled supply chains to function and globalization to flourish. It also allowed us to establish the global data network that powers the digital economy and international communication. Most important, our hegemony has helped protect democracy worldwide against challenges from authoritarianism.
Running up the cost of war, a cost that U.S. taxpayers are already footing with a defense budget that currently stands at $847 billion and will likely reach $1 trillion by the end of the decade, is certainly a strategy that would directly benefit two investors in AI weapons. But what’s beneficial for Schmidt and Work might have more costs than benefits for the country as a whole. The Atlantic failed to reveal that the authors had a set of financial interests that may run counter to those of the American public.
The Atlantic did not respond to a request for comment.
Eli Clifton is a senior advisor at the Quincy Institute and Investigative Journalist at Large at Responsible Statecraft. He reports on money in politics and U.S. foreign policy.
Former Secretary of Defense Robert O. Work (CNAS/Flickr/Creative Commons) and Former Google CEO Eric Schmidt (World Economic Forum/Flickr/Creative Commons)|Former Secretary of Defense Robert O. Work (U.S. Army photo) and Former Google CEO Eric Schmidt (World Economic Forum/Flickr/Creative Commons)|
Top photo credit: January 13, 2025, Culiacan, Sinaloa, Mexico. People close with one of the victims cry not far from the city center, where two people were killed in a shoot out between rival cartel factions. One man was found dead on a motorcycle, the other victim lay near a SUV that was riddled with bullets.(Photo by Teun Voeten/Sipa USA)
In 2020, during the last year of the Trump administration’s first term, President Trump asked then-Defense Secretary Mark Esper a shocking question: why can't the United States just attack the Mexican cartels and their infrastructure with a volley of missiles?
Esper recounted the moment in his memoir, using the anecdote to illustrate just how reckless Trump was becoming as his term drew to a close. Those missiles, of course, were never launched, so the entire interaction amounted to nothing in terms of policy.
Yet five years later, Trump still views the Mexican cartels as one of Washington’s principal national security threats. His urge to take offensive action inside Mexico has only grown with time. Unlike in Trump’s first term, using the U.S. military to combat these criminal organizations is now a mainstream policy option in Trump’s Republican Party. According to the New York Times, Trump has signed a presidential directive allowing the Pentagon to begin using military force against specific cartels in Latin America, and U.S. military officials are now in the process of studying various ways to go about implementing the order.
While this may come as a shock to some foreign policy commentators, it shouldn’t. Trump, Vice President JD Vance, Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth, U.S. Ambassador to the U.N. (and short-lived national security adviser) Mike Waltz and U.S. Ambassador to Mexico Ron Johnson have all left the door open to military force, whether it takes the form of striking fentanyl-production facilities by air or deploying U.S. special operations forces to take out top cartel leaders on Mexican soil.
The Trump administration wasted no time going down this road. The CIA is engaging in more surveillance flights along the U.S.-Mexico border, and inside Mexican airspace, to gather information on key cartel locations. The U.S. national security bureaucracy was already in preliminary discussions about the possible use of drone strikes against the cartels as well. And on February 20, the U.S. State Department designated six Mexican cartels as foreign terrorist organizations, which is designed to deter Americans from working with the cartels and lay the foundation for future strikes.
This is all good politics for Trump, who recognizes implicitly that getting tough on Mexico economically and politically is red meat for his base. But politics isn’t nearly as important as policy, and the policy implications of U.S. military operations in Mexico — even if the purpose is a noble one — is riddled with costs and make managing the problems the Trump administration ostensibly cares about even harder.
First, we should remember one thing right off the bat: using the military to tackle cartels is not a new phenomenon. The Trump administration may present this as some magic solution that will win the drug war once and for all, but the reality is bullets and bombs have been lobbed at the narco-traffickers repeatedly to little positive effect. Successive Mexican governments since the turn of the century, from the conservative Felipe Calderón to the leftist Andres Manuel López Obrador (AMLO), have relied on the military under the presumption this was the best way the Mexican state could pressure criminal organizations into extinction.
Calderón, for instance, declared a full-blown war on the cartels immediately after his election in 2006, deploying tens of thousands of Mexican troops into some of the country’s most violent states. Despite lambasting the military-first strategy during his own presidential campaign, Enrique Peña Nieto largely continued Calderón’s strategy with a special emphasis on targeting so-called “kingpins” of the narcotrafficking world. When AMLO entered office in 2018, he tried to get the Mexican army back into the barracks but wound up expanding their authority and rushing Mexican soldiers into hot spots, like Culiacan, whenever large-scale violence broke out.
The result was a bloodbath. Rather than submit to the state’s diktats, the cartels fought the Mexican state with ever greater levels of force. Politicians, police officers and soldiers were all targeted and killed with greater frequency. Areas of Mexico previously insulated from cartel violence were suddenly drawn into the maelstrom. Although senior narcotraffickers were killed and captured in the process, Mexico’s cartel landscape was shattered into a million different pieces; as my colleague Christopher McCallion and I wrote in July, the demise of the cartel’s senior leadership merely opened up these organizations to extreme bouts of infighting between replacements who sought to grab the crown.
The end product was a massive uptick in Mexico’s homicide rate, which is now three times greater than it was before Calderón declared war almost two decades ago.
Of course, the Trump administration is unlikely to mimic the Mexican government’s past strategy entirely. It’s hard to envision tens of thousands of U.S. troops deploying to Tamaulipas, Guanajuato or Sinaloa, sealing off neighborhoods, establishing checkpoints and conducting offensive operations against cartels that in some instances have more firepower than the Mexican army. If Washington is going to do anything militarily, it’s more likely to come in the form of air power. Bombing fentanyl manufacturing plants would be more economical and wouldn’t involve U.S. ground forces, so the risk to U.S. personnel would be much lower.
Still, if the objective is to bomb the cartels into submission or convince them to stop producing and shipping drugs across America’s southern border, then an air campaign will fall flat. We can say this with a reasonable degree of certainty because there’s first-hand experience to go by. The U.S. Air Force did something similar in Afghanistan in 2017-2018, taking out opium labs in Taliban-controlled areas to deprive the Taliban insurgency of the revenue it needed to wage the war.
But as the Special Inspector General of Afghanistan Reconstruction reported, the bombing campaign failed to do anything of significance. The U.S. air campaign didn’t dent the Taliban’s revenue streams to the point where it made a negotiated resolution on U.S. terms possible. As David Mansfield, the world’s leading expert on Afghanistan’s drug patterns, wrote in a 2019 report, “it is hard to see how the campaign offered anything in terms of value for money, with the cost of the strikes and ordnance used far outweighing the value of the losses to those involved in drugs production or potential revenues to the Taliban.”
Why would Mexico be any different than Afghanistan? If anything, denting cartel revenue via an air campaign would be even more difficult than it was with respect to the Taliban. Unlike heroin, fentanyl is a synthetic drug that can be easily produced, isn’t particularly labor intensive and doesn’t require acres upon acres of poppy fields that can be easily located. Sure, the United States is bound to find some of these facilities, but the cartels responsible for production will still have a monetary incentive to set up shop somewhere else. Fentanyl nets the cartels billions of dollars every year; this is a very large financial resource that the Sinaloa and New Jalisco Generation cartels — or frankly anyone in the business — will be hard pressed to pass up.
And if even if they magically did find a new line of work, other players would step into the void to increase their own market share.
These are only several problems associated with treating the U.S. military as a panacea to the drug problem. But the important thing to take away is that effectively declaring war on Mexico, America’s top trading partner and neighbor with which we share a nearly 2,000 mile-long border, presents the illusion of progress without actually making any. And it will inject immense tension in a U.S.-Mexican relationship that Washington should be strengthening, not undermining.
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Top photo credit: Supporters of Bolivian candidate Samuel Doria Medina from Alianza Unidad party attend a closing campaign rally ahead of the August 17 general election, in Santa Cruz de la Sierra, Bolivia, August 9, 2025. REUTERS/Ipa Ibanez
Bolivia heads into a critical presidential election onAugust 17th, the first round in what is widely expected to be a two-round contest.
With none of the five major candidatespolling above 25 percent, a large “blank/nill vote campaign,” and the two left-wing candidates trailing behind the right’s candidates, the fragmented political field has raised the prospect of a run-off for the first time since 2002, before Evo Morales and the Movement Toward Socialism (MAS)’s rise to power.
The MAS’s appeal, including with lower socio-economic classes, is dwindling due to its inability to manage mounting crises: from a severe fuel shortage (and the looming spike in prices when subsidies collapse) to a dollar shortage, risk of default reflected in Bolivia’s CCC- Fitch rating, and rising inflation. All of these cut directly against the MAS’s core appeal of helping ordinary Bolivians, particularly the indigenous majority, make ends meet and improve their daily lives.
This time, the leading contenders by order of polling averages — Samuel Doria Medina, Jorge “Tuto” Quiroga, Andrónico Rodríguez, Manfred Reyes Villa, and Eduardo del Castillo — represent deeply divergent visions for Bolivia’s role in the world. The candidates shared their plans with Responsible Statecraft so we could get a sense of what kind of foreign policy they envision for Bolivia’s future.
Tensions deepened in 2019-2020, when Morales accused the U.S. and the U.S.-backed OAS of his ouster.
Former presidents Morales and Luis Arce, once standard-bearers of the MAS’s self-avowedly “anti-imperialist foreign policy,” are notably absent from the race. Internal disputes, major national crises, and ensuing unpopularitysidelined Arce, while Morales has been barred from running despite continuing his protests and leading ablank vote campaign. Their legacies nonetheless loom large over the election, particularly in the realm of foreign policy, where Bolivia has long stood as a rare bulwark against U.S. intervention.
With developing crises, there appears to have been a shift in Bolivians’ opinions on foreign policy, making a course change more popular. The left still warns strongly against any renewed U.S. influence orneoliberal prescriptions, though less loudly, while the center and right-wing have moved past their reticence against outreach to Washington. In previous election cycles, even the mention of such partnerships was anelectoral death sentence.
Current frontrunner Samuel Doria Medina, a business magnate and perennial centrist candidate, is emerging as a potential third way. His self-avowedlyliberal economic plan calls for sharp reductions in public spending and the closure of state-owned enterprises. On foreign policy, however, Doria Medina’s stance is more moderate.
Doria Medina’s plan lacks specifics, but his focus on diplomacy as business is clear. His camp presents this as analternative to the ideological “extremes” of MAS and the right-wing. Critics warn that such centrism often masks neoliberal orthodoxy under a polished veneer, particularly given his support for the IMF and World Bank, andgutting of popular social programs.
There are two MAS-affiliated candidates: Senate President Andrónico Rodríguez, who has led a more grassroots campaign, and media-savvy Government Minister Eduardo del Castillo. Both are fighting to inherit the MAS legacy, though they haverejected the notion that they are “Arcistas” or “Evistas.”
Rodríguez’s plan mirrors Morales' anti-imperialist narrative, often invoking Bolivian sovereignty and warning of foreign meddling. He also briefly discusses climate diplomacy, South-South cooperation, and “popular diplomacy.” However, his silence on BRICS suggests a possible deprioritization of international alignment in favor of domestic agendas, including constitutional reform, judicial restructuring, and economic stabilization.
His running mate, Mariana Prado, who was a minister under Morales and was ousted after allegedly working with USAID, has publicly stated her admiration for Brazilian PresidentLula’s pragmatic diplomatic model, which she has said her government would emulate. In an interview with La Razón, Bolivia’s most important newspaper, she called for a foreign policy that is “open to all,” case-by-case, and non-ideological. This echoes the “active and pragmatic” diplomacy of the left in Brazil, Mexico, and Chile: engage with China and the U.S. on an equal-opportunity basis, pursue BRICS and Mercosur integration, but avoid confrontations. This is a significant change for the Bolivian left.
Del Castillo, by contrast, presents himself as a modernizer of the MAS legacy. His plan, dubbed “Bolivia First,” emphasizes state-led economic development, industrialization of lithium, and internal security. In his government plan, Del Castillo talks about Bolivia as aleader in the multipolar world, championing “anti-imperialism, anti-capitalism, decolonization, and anti-patriarchy.” He discusses fully joining the BRICS and continuing Bolivia’s partnerships with the Global South, including China and Russia.
A pro-MAS analyst, Daniel Flores Escobar, has more explicitly framed the election as a referendum on national sovereignty versus foreign subjugation, stating that Bolivia must avoid becoming a “republic subordinated by foreign interests.” This would mean a continuation of an “anti-imperialist foreign policy” under a MAS government.
Yet, notably, neither of these MAS candidates have put forward detailed foreign policy roadmaps. Together, the two MAS candidates’ entire foreign policy strategies total less than five pages. This suggests that, should the left win, Bolivia’s current foreign policy orientation would persist, but may be on the back burner.
On the opposite end of the spectrum are two staunchly conservative figures, former president Tuto Quiroga and Cochabamba’s mayor and retired Army Captain Manfred Reyes Villa, both of whom present clear, detailed foreign policy visions that would represent an explicit break from two decades of the MAS.
Quiroga’s program frames Bolivia’s current foreign alignment as “servile to tyrannies” (like Cuba and Venezuela) and calls for a return to a “free and democratic” foreign policy — ironic given his role asdictator Hugo Banzer’s vice president and a key diplomat for Jeanine Añez’sauthoritarian government. He pledges to restore relations with the U.S. and Israel, withdraw support from regimes like Iran and Venezuela, and push Bolivia back into alignment with what he calls the “community of democratic nations.” His 2020 platform, reused with minor updates, describes BRICS as a grouping of “autocracies” and dismisses South-South solidarity as misguided.
Reyes Villa similarly calls forre-engagement with the U.S. and Israel but offers less detail. His proposal emphasizes economic liberalization, attracting Western investment, and combatting “socialism.” Both men propose a reorientation away from China, Russia, Iran, and the BRICS, in favor of U.S. ties and participation in U.S.-led multilateral and financial institutions.
Moreover, the specter of Donald Trump returning to the White House raises further concerns, especially if Bolivia becomes a target. Tariffs and direct political or military-intelligence intervention could hurt the popularity of a close relationship with the U.S.
This election marks a pivotal juncture in Bolivia’s trajectory. For the first time in a generation, as Bolivia faces historic crises and the MAS is increasingly unpopular, voters are being offered a choice featuring starkly contrasting worldviews, ranging from a return to U.S. alignment, to a cautious centrist balancing act, to a continuation of the anti-imperialist posture that has defined the MAS revolution.
That choice will have an enormous impact on how Bolivia meets this moment, or returns to an era of darkness while deepening the pains felt by the average Bolivian.
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Top photo credit: Donald Trump (Anna Moneymaker/Shutterstock) Volodymyr Zelensky (miss.cabul/Shutterstock) and Vladimir Putin (paparazzza/Shuttterstock)
The Trump administration has reportedly taken an essential step towards a peace settlement in Ukraine. It has stopped calling for an unconditional early ceasefire — which the Russians have always rejected — and instead offered concrete and detailed terms to Moscow.
If as reported these terms include recognition of the Russian annexation of Crimea and the Donbas, this makes excellent sense. It has been obvious since the failure of the Ukrainian counter-offensive in 2023 that Ukraine cannot recover these territories either by force or through negotiation.
Far better to draw a line under this issue rather than allow it to fester — especially since it is clear that most of the population of Crimea and much of that of the Donbas do not want to return to Ukraine.
Swapping the remainder of Ukrainian-held Donbas for Russian-held territory elsewhere, as Trump has apparently proposed, would be deeply painful for Kyiv, and has already been rejected by President Zelensky. He is also encouraging European leaders to reject it. However, Russia has already captured most of the region and is now very close to taking the key town of Pokrovsk.
If the war continues, it is reasonable to assume that Russia will take the rest of the Donbas in the year to come. If Ukraine rejects this deal, and Trump ends U.S. aid to Ukraine, Russia will likely take very much more. However painful, accepting this part of the deal is therefore the wise and patriotic choice for Ukraine — though only if Russia moderates other demands.
Crucial issues still remain unanswered. Russia has always categorically demanded Ukrainian neutrality. Will Moscow be satisfied with a mere statement by Trump that NATO membership for Ukraine is permanently excluded? Or will it demand that the Ukrainian parliament re-install the commitment to neutrality that formed part of the Ukrainian constitution before 2014?
Will Russia demand that NATO formally rescind the proposal for long-term Ukrainian NATO membership announced by NATO in 2008? If so, to push this through would take huge pressure on Ukraine and Europe by the Trump administration.
Meanwhile, Russia will need drastically to scale back its demands for Ukrainian "denazification" and demilitarization", which in their extreme form would mean Ukrainian regime change and disarmament — which no government in Kyiv could or should accept.
If compromise can be reached on these issues, then the Russian, Ukrainian, and European governments would all be extremely foolish to reject a deal.
If Russia chooses to snub Trump, it would commit itself to the search for complete victory, which may be unattainable. It would also lose a unique opportunity to restore decent relations with the United States moving forward.
If Ukraine rejects the terms, it would most probably forfeit future U.S. military and financial aid, and be forced to rely on far more limited help from Europe. Even if Ukraine could continue to retreat slowly rather than collapsing, no future peace deal would bring better terms. In both Russia and Ukraine, opinion polls show majorities of the population anxious for an early peace.
As to the European governments, if they block a peace settlement they will commit themselves to support Ukraine indefinitely without the U.S. — something that their own populations are increasingly opposed to.
There is no perfect settlement to end this war. The one now apparently taking shape does, however, look about right in terms of what could realistically be achieved. For the sake of the tens or hundreds of thousands of Ukrainians and Russians who will die if the war continues, all parties have a duty to abandon maximalist dreams.
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