It seems that former Blackwater CEO, international war profiteer, and wannabe colonialist Erik Prince is eager to get back into the action, this time on American soil. Politico reported today that a group of military contractors led by Prince delivered a 26-page proposal to President Donald Trump’s team before the inauguration, detailing how the new administration could enlist the private sector to hit its deportation goals.
The plan states that a “600% increase in activity” is needed for the President to deport 12 million people before the 2026 midterms — an increase that Prince and his allies don’t believe government agencies are equipped to make.
Among the ideas laid out in the $25 billion proposal: a private fleet of 100 deportation planes, privately-run processing camps on military bases, expedited mass deportation hearings, and a “bounty program which provides a cash reward for each illegal alien held by a state or local law enforcement officer.”
Former Trump Advisor Steve Bannon (who still has strong ties to key advisors on the President’s team) expressed support for the plan to Politico. “People want this stood up quickly, and understand the government is always very slow to do things,” he said.
The proposal has clear moral, financial, and legal concerns — but that goes without saying when Erik Prince is concerned.
Prince’s Blackwater Security Consulting group carried out a highly publicized massacre of 17 civilians at Nissour Square in Baghdad in 2007, causing the group to lose its security contract with the U.S. government. Four Blackwater employees were convicted by a U.S. federal court for their involvement in the massacre and then pardoned by President Trump in his first term.
Neither the tragedy of the Nissour Square Massacre nor the embarrassment it represented for the military contracting industry dissuaded Prince, who has continued to push for more privatization and less oversight in military operations.
Fortunately, it seems that his latest pet project isn’t gaining much traction.
Bill Matthews, a co-author of the proposal, told Politico, “We have not been contacted by, nor have we had any discussions with, the government since the White Paper that we submitted months ago. There has been zero show of interest or engagement from the government and we have no reason to believe there will be.”
Gideon Pardo is a Reporting Intern at Responsible Statecraft and a senior at the Medill School of Journalism at Northwestern University. He has previously reported for the Medill Investigative Lab and for the on-campus publication North by Northwestern, where he wrote about campus related news and national politics.
Top photo credit: Erik Prince speaks with political commentator Gordon Chang at CPAC (Photo: Zach D Roberts/NurPhoto)
Russia’s economy is at a critical juncture. It is not an understatement to say that Moscow needs these Alaska peace talks with the Trump administration on Friday to end the Ukraine war as much as Kyiv does.
Mixed indicators in June signal that the overall economy seems relatively stable for the near term, but recession may be on the horizon. It may be trying to hide it, but Moscow can no longer obscure the true costs of the war, which are in part to blame for current conditions.
After the invasion of Ukraine in 2022, the Kremlin initially used budget spending, counter-sanctions measures, and credit growth to boost investment, which were largely successful as the economy grew near 4 percent in 2023 and 2024. However, in late 2024, the measures used to secure a war economy led to economic overheating, wage growth, and rampant inflation.
Now the economy is experiencing decline after more than two years of solid growth. Contraction has been driven by falling activity in mining, trade, real estate, and leisure — which parallel growth in agriculture, manufacturing, and public administration were not able to offset. As a result, the Russian Central Bank is predicting annual growth in 2025 between 1 and 2% and growth near 1% in 2026.
Despite the Central Bank’s optimism, the IMF recently cut its own 2025 projection for Russian GDP growth to 0.9% and 1% in 2026.
Russia’s current economic slowdown may be viewed as an opportunity for policy makers in the United States and Europe to escalate pressure on Russia. However, it is important to note that these same policymakers have overestimated Russia’s economic weakness since 2022 with negligible results on Russia’s management of the war in Ukraine.
Therefore, a policy of economic restraint, as opposed to economic warfare, would still appear the best approach to ending the war in Ukraine. Additional sanctions on Russia and countries who trade with Russia, as President Trump has threatened, may impact the global economy more severely than Russia.
Trump’s call for secondary sanctions has only served to bring the BRICS closer together and reinforce anti-American distrust in the Global South. Brazil's President, Lula da Silva, has revealed plans to call the leaders of India and China to discuss a joint BRICS response to tariffs and secondary sanctions imposed by President Donald Trump.
"What President Trump is doing is tacit — he wants to dismantle multilateralism, where agreements are made collectively within institutions, and replace it with unilateralism, where he negotiates one-on-one with other countries," Lula said.
Meanwhile, increased geopolitical instability or even escalation in current hotspots such as Israel, Iran, or the Caucasus, particularly Armenia, could cause fluctuations in oil prices and require Russia to divert resources it does not have, impacting Russia’s budget in unexpected ways.
The continuing slowdown during the first half of 2025 has contributed to a widening budget shortfall that has left the country with less to spend on infrastructure and public services. Apparently, the Kremlin has started to reallocate funds from vital investment projects in road, rail, and utilities to military budget items, but this is difficult to decipher given publicly available statistics.
The Moscow Times speculates that the data “blackout” is the latest in a broader trend that began after Russia launched its full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022. A recent article cites a report by Promsvyazbank (PSB) which suggests Russian authorities are increasingly limiting public access to core economic statistics as concerns grow over a potential economic slowdown, The PSB report notes that RosStat, the state statistics service, has not published several key macroeconomic figures for June and the first half of 2025.
For example, the PSB report notes inflation-adjusted retail and wholesale trade data were missing in the latest figures. RosStat reported a nominal 12.2% year-on-year rise in retail turnover for June but omitted the real, inflation-adjusted number. PSB analysts estimate real turnover growth may be closer to 2-3%.
The recent absence of key data follows Russian President Vladimir Putin's sharp remarks regarding a possible economic slowdown at the St. Petersburg Economic Forum in June. During the Forum, Economic Development Minister Maxim Reshetnikov warned that Russia’s economy is “on the brink of a recession.”
In later remarks, Putin commented that “several specialists have pointed out that there are risks for stagnation and even a recession. This will absolutely under no circumstances be allowed.”
Despite the Kremlin’s assertions, the S&P Global Purchasing Managers’ Index (PMI) survey for Russia showed the manufacturing sector dropped to 47.5 from 50.2 in May, signaling a sharp contraction. “Falling output, dwindling new orders, and job cuts are driving the manufacturing slump and mark a severe challenge for an economy heavily reliant on industrial production.”
The survey also showed that job losses accelerated at the fastest pace since April 2022. The survey predicts Russia’s unemployment rate of 2.9% in 2024 could increase to 3.5% in 2025. The country lacked around 2.6 million workers at the end of 2024, according to Russia’s Higher School of Economics, largely due to men going to war or fleeing abroad to avoid it.
The employment news is slightly concerning because record employment was one of the significant achievements of the war economy along with higher wages. Data for June confirmed that wage growth still increased by 12%, but the figure marked a drop from 19% in the same period in 2024.
In an effort to address the severe inflation and investment issues resulting from overheating, the Russian Central Bank lowered the key rate from 20% to 18% in July. Russian business viewed the measure as a positive sign in the battle to lower crushing inflation that has restricted borrowing costs and investment into the economy.
After the Central Bank lowered the rate from 21% to 20% in June inflation had dropped to 9.2% in July from 9.4%. The Central Bank predicts inflation will reach 6 to 7% by the end of 2025 with a target of 4% by the end of 2026.
Lower inflation will help lessen the ruble’s strength, which had been hampering trade. The Russian ruble's 45% rise against the U.S. dollar since the start of the year had made it one of the world's best performing currencies. However, the strong ruble also resulted in higher prices for Russian merchandise exports, which decreased 6% year on year as of June.
Another downside of the strong ruble is that dollar-denominated energy revenues generate fewer rubles for the Russian budget. As a result, Russia's oil and gas revenues have fallen due to sanctions and weaker pricing and were down by 27% year-on-year in July. Oil prices averaged $59.8 for Brent crude in June of 2025 versus nearly $70 in June 2024.
Although the projected economic stagnation is not something the Kremlin likes to discuss, measures to reduce inflation and stimulate greater business investment should boost the flagging economy enough to give Moscow the economic stability necessary to continue pursuing its aims in Ukraine through at least 2026 — if it has to.
Beyond 2026, the question would be whether Russia’s economy can recover in a way to force a peace in Ukraine and still achieve its full list of objectives.
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Top photo credit: Pro-government counter-protesters and riot police officers disperse people protesting over the death of Kenyan blogger Albert Ojwang in police custody, in downtown Nairobi, Kenya June 17, 2025. REUTERS/Thomas Mukoya
For a fleeting moment last year, Nairobi was Washington’s darling. In a rarity for an African leader, President William Ruto was honored at the White House, and Kenya was designated a Major Non-NATO Ally (MNNA), the first in sub-Saharan Africa.
It was the capstone of a transactional bargain: Kenya would serve as America’s anchor state in a turbulent region, providing peacekeepers for Haiti and a stable partner against a backdrop of coups and Chinese and Russian encroachment in Africa. In return, Nairobi would receive security assistance, and a powerful friend in Washington.
Just over a year later, that bargain lies in tatters. The first invoice for its failure has arrived in the form of an amendment to the National Defense Authorization Act (NDAA) submitted recently by Sen. James Risch, the top Republican on the Senate Foreign Relations Committee,calling for a formal review of Kenya’s prized MNNA status.
The rationale, according to the amendment, is a devastating catalogue of Nairobi's recent transgressions: its dubious ties with "nonstate armed groups and violent extremist organizations, including the Rapid Support Forces and al-Shabaab," its role as a "financial safe haven" for sanctioned entities, its deepening security and economic entanglement with China, and its use of "United States security assistance" for "abductions, torture, renditions, and violence against civilians."
Kenya’s descent has been swift and self-inflicted. Historically, Kenya built its foreign policy on the soft power of mediation. Nairobi was the indispensable venue where peace deals for Somalia and Sudan were hammered out two decades ago, It was a stable anchor in a volatile neighborhood. Under Ruto, this reputation has been tarnished.
The most calamitous blunder has been in Sudan. In February 2025, while the country burned, Nairobi played host to the leaders of the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) as they signed a charter to form a parallel government. Kenya’s foreign ministry framed the effort as a step towards peace-building, but the Sudanese government, led by the army, furiously recalled its ambassador, branded Kenya a "rogue state," and banned all imports from the country, a significant economic blow.
To make matters worse for Ruto, his own former deputy president, Rigathi Gachagua, publicly accused him of having a "business" relationship with the RSF leader, Mohamed Hamdan “Hemedti” Dagalo, alleging that Kenya was being used to launder Sudanese gold to fund the RSF’s war machine.
Whether true or not, the perception of a private deal overriding principled foreign policy was cemented. The African Union recently warned against the "fragmentation of Sudan" and implicitly condemned Nairobi’s role in providing a platform for the paramilitary group.
A similar pattern emerged in the Democratic Republic of Congo. In late 2023, Nairobi hosted leaders of the M23 rebel group, which is backed by Rwanda and has terrorized eastern Congo. The move infuriated Kinshasa, which refused to accredit Kenya’s ambassador and accused Ruto of "supporting Rwanda." The peace initiative was ultimately seized by the United States and Qatar, who brokered a resource-driven deal, leaving Nairobi irrelevant in a crisis in its own neighborhood.
Ruto’s foreign policy misadventures cannot be divorced from the collapsing political bargain at home. The "Hustler Nation" narrative that swept him to power in 2022 on a tide of populist promises has evaporated, replaced by the grim reality of IMF-mandated austerity. The government’s attempt to ram through a finance bill laden with taxes on basic goods ignited a youth-led uprising — the "Gen Z protests" — that has shaken the foundations of the state.
The state's response has been brutal, fulfilling the darkest premonitions about Ruto’s authoritarian tendencies. Security forces have met peaceful protesters with live rounds, abductions, and torture. This is the domestic context for the Risch amendment’s concern about the misuse of U.S. security assistance.
The Biden administration’s embrace of Ruto was a calculated risk. Facing a wave of anti-Western coups in the Sahel and China’s expanding influence, Washington needed a reliable partner. Ruto, an astute political operator, played his part brilliantly, offering up police for the U.S.-backed Haiti mission and positioning himself as a key interlocutor on climate and regional security. The MNNA designation was his reward.
But the arrival of the Trump administration, and the Risch amendment, signals a fundamental shift in how Washington calculates its interests. U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio abruptly canceled a planned visit to Nairobi earlier this year, a clear diplomatic snub that came shortly after Ruto’s visit to Beijing and as Washington began quietly cutting aid programs.
Indeed, the amendment is a checklist of how Kenya has failed its end of the transactional bargain.
First, Kenya has cozied up to America’s adversaries. President Ruto, for his part, has defended the relationship, insisting that it is aimed at securing vital export markets rather than signalling strategic realignment. This distinction, however, has not ameliorated concerns in Washington. Ruto’s speech in Beijing, where he declared Kenya and China "co-architects of a new world order," was viewed in Washington as a slap in the face. Sen. Risch entered the full text of that speech into the congressional record, sending a clear message: you cannot be a Major Non-NATO Ally and a "co-architect" with Beijing.
Second, Kenya is undermining U.S. security objectives. By providing a platform and alleged financial services to the RSF — accused by the United States of genocide and had ties to Russia's Wagner mercenaries — Nairobi is not just meddling in a civil war, but is working against U.S. policy of weakening Wagner (and its successor, the Africa Corps) and ending the war in Sudan.
Additionally, the Risch amendment demands an inquiry into official ties with Al-Shabaab. Weaponizing long-standing concerns — acknowledged by the U.S. State Department — about the deep-seated corruption within Kenya’s security apparatus that allows individual officials to profit from the very smuggling networks that finance Al-Shabaab. More recently, the U.S. Treasury identified and sanctioned a Kenya-based financial network as a crucial hub for laundering Al-Shabaab funds.
The likelihood of the Risch amendment becoming law is high, a strength stemming from a potent combination of its sponsor’s clout and its substantive strategic appeal.
Substantively, Risch’s proposal is compelling because it neatly bridges the partisan divide, crafted to appeal to Republican anxieties about Chinese and Russian influence in Africa while simultaneously satisfying traditional Democratic demands for accountability on human rights and the misuse of U.S. security aid.
Moreover, the amendment is structured as a review, not an immediate punishment. It doesn't revoke Kenya's status or cut off aid; it simply mandates a report. This presents a much lower bar for passage, allowing skeptical lawmakers to support it as a call for greater oversight.
This political potency is amplified by the legislative vehicle to which it is attached. The law itself, the NDAA, is the annual bill that authorizes the budget and sets the policies for the U.S. Department of Defense. For over six consecutive decades, Congress has passed the NDAA, creating a powerful institutional momentum that transcends partisan divides.
Consequently, the initiation of a formal review seems more a question of when than if. The final determination will rest not only on the assessment by key figures in the administration, but critically, on whether President Ruto's government can credibly address Washington’s concerns before a verdict is rendered.
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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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