Another American contractor has reportedly come forward with horror stories about his time working for the Global Humanitarian Foundation, the outfit responsible for food distribution in Gaza.
The operation has been likened to the "Hunger Games" as the Israeli military has been accused of shooting and killing hundreds of Palestinians, reportedly for not straying out of the lines and other supposed transgressions, if for any reason at all, as they scramble and claw their way desperately for food.
U.S. security contractors hired to work with GHF have been accused of joining in with the lethal and non-lethal crowd control, with reports of live ammunition, stun grenades, and the use of pepper spray. Last week at least 20 were killed in a stampede; the UN says over 1,050 people have been killed trying to get to food since May, over 700 of them at these increasingly violent aid centers.
Last month two contractors from UG Solutions, one of the U.S.-based companies (the other is Safe Reach Solutions), told the Associated Press that fellow Americans were shooting into the crowds with live ammo. Now another has come forward. He claims to be a military veteran who has deployed to multiple conflict zones but “never in my entire military career... have I been a part of, allowed...the use of force against unarmed innocent civilians. Ever. And I’m not going to do it now."
“There is no fixing this. Put an end to it,” the man said in the report, first given to Israel news Channel 12. His identity is not verified and the company he supposedly works for, UG Solutions, has denied earlier reports of lethal tactics by its operators at the sites.
The contractor, his voice and image distorted, told Channel 12: “There was a man who was on the ground. He was on his hands and knees and he was picking up individual noodles. This guy wasn’t armed. He wasn’t a threat. This UG contractor sprayed an entire can of pepper spray on to this guy's face. That’s lethal.”
In another case, he claimed he was standing next to a Palestinian woman hit by a stun grenade. “She collapsed, fell to the ground. That was the moment I knew I couldn’t continue.”
The man also insisted that U.S. contractors were firing live rounds at Palestinians after they had gathered their food.
These kinds of stories are all but corroborated by IDF soldiers who told Haaretz reporters in June that they were ordered to shoot unarmed civilians at the sites even when there was no threat presented. The Wall Street Journal reported Sunday that IDF soldiers had shot into a crowd of Palestinians holding white flags because they crossed a "red line."
American contractors, many who are former U.S. military, have been working in Gaza since April. They are being paid, reportedly, $1500 a day for the work. That may not be enough to stomach what they are witnessing. As more come forward, it may be that the Israeli government made a big mistake thinking it would put an American face on its barbaric food scheme in Gaza. Those outsiders might eventually help bring the whole thing down.
On Monday, U.S. Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent announced a framework agreement with He Lifeng, China’s top economic official, to save TikTok despite a 2024 law aimed at banning it from Americans’ phones. Donald Trump and Xi Jinping are scheduled to speak on Friday to finalize the deal.
The announcement raised hopes not just for preserving Americans’ access to one of the most popular apps in the world, but also for real progress in the fraught relationship between the world’s two most powerful countries — a relationship that seemed headed toward serious conflict just five months ago.
Then, on Wednesday, reports emerged that Chinese regulators had directed China’s major tech companies to stop purchasing Nvidia-made AI chips. Suddenly the possibility of productive relations was again thrown into doubt.
It’s certainly too soon to proclaim a new start to the relationship. But it’s also premature to accept the self-serving contention of those pushing conflict that China holds only ill intent. Trump could all too easily return to the Biden administration’s strategy — the same one that most of his advisers support — which would lead to a permanent rupture and a new era of great power conflict. But Trump could still choose a modus vivendi with China, if he is willing to focus his diplomats on a new framework for trade and investment on both sides.
The origins of the TikTok expropriation bill lie in the hothouse atmosphere of bipartisan China animosity that dominated thinking in the prior two U.S. administrations. Officials in the first Trump term, taking advantage of their boss’s trade grievances, seized their opening to press a very different agenda of systematic geopolitical confrontation. Where Trump merely wanted to shift the terms of trade toward the United States and display his own power, his neoconservative and militarist advisers believed that the U.S. and China are locked in an existential struggle for control over the global system.
The Biden administration assumed that same framework — institutionalizing it, extending it, and pressuring U.S. allies to join it. To Biden officials, restricting and excluding China was not only essential to maintaining American primacy but also the key to renewing American economic dynamism and marginalizing populist challengers of the right and left.
Once thinking in both parties defined China as an irredeemable adversary, politicians started competing to advance the most antagonistic measures. In 2023, members of Congress introduced an average of 3.5 bills each day aimed at restricting, discrediting, or undermining China, over 600 in all. This was against a single piece of legislation encouraging a constructive relationship — a bill that would have restored the Fulbright educational exchange program.
One of those 600 hostile bills established the House’s China Select Committee. Chaired by the energetic Republican Mike Gallagher from Wisconsin, who coordinated closely with Democratic ranking member Raja Krishnamoorthi, the Select Committee became a fount of belligerent hearings meant to impress upon the American people the need for conflict with China. It also acted as an assembly line formulating anti-China legislation. (Gallagher subsequently quit Congress for a more lucrative job at Palantir, though he continues to argue alongside Trump 1 China chief Matt Pottinger that the U.S. goal should be “winning the cold war with China” by destabilizing the Chinese government.)
The Gallagher–Krishnamoorthi committee wrote the TikTok expropriation bill, introduced it in March last year, and eight days later carried it to a crushing victory in the House on a vote of 197–15 among Republicans and 155–50 among Democrats. Gallagher branded TikTok “digital fentanyl” in reference to another conspiracy theory, that the Chinese government is sending fentanyl to the U.S. to kill Americans.
Biden signed a slightly modified version of the bill into law just over a month later. The Biden administration had never prioritized the issue, but since its domestic and foreign policies revolved around amplifying the China threat, it made no effort to stop the rush to suppress TikTok.
This outcome illustrates larger patterns in China policy under Biden. First, attacking China was regularly a substitute for broader policies — in this case, regulating all social media companies regardless of the nationality of their owners — that alone would have addressed the problems blamed on China. With political leaders unwilling to confront entrenched corporate power and dysfunctional political institutions, ineffectual and counterproductive policy was the only “realistic” option.
Second, the frantic anti-China environment in Washington made U.S. leaders assume that anything Beijing opposes must be good for the United States. But U.S. public opinion, insulated from the mania in Washington, rarely shared that unanimity. In the case of TikTok, only a third of the population supports the ban, another third is unsure, and one-third opposes it. The longer the issue is under discussion, the higher opposition has risen.
It turns out that Americans are right to be skeptical. Rep. Sara Jacobs (D-Calif.), after hearing the Biden administration’s case, said: “Not a single thing that we heard in today’s classified briefing was unique to TikTok. It was things that happen on every single social media platform.”
When asked if China is currently using the app in “untoward ways,” Rep. Jim Himes (D-Conn.) referenced his classified access as ranking member on the House Intelligence Committee and replied: “It’s not. Full stop. It’s not.”
Indeed, when the Biden administration presented its argument to the Supreme Court, it only pointed to threatening measures that China could take, nothing it was actually doing.
Trump was more sensitive to the politics of the issue, as well as to the contributions of billionaire TikTok investor Jeff Yass. He has also stubbornly refused to sign on to the DC consensus on China conflict. After his initial efforts to force China into submission spectacularly backfired, leading China to prove its own leverage over the American economy, Trump recognized Xi Jinping as a peer and accepted Xi’s demand for a negotiating framework. The TikTok agreement seems to be the first positive outcome of this newly civil atmosphere.
China’s Nvidia ban shows how fragile relations remain. It would be a mistake, however, to read China’s actions as revealing the impossibility of great power coexistence. Once the conditions in Washington described above are taken into consideration, Beijing’s aim of weaning Chinese companies off U.S. technology seems little more than a prudent measure to guard against an unremittingly hostile power.
Although Trump is serious about forging a deal with China, it can be quite difficult in Beijing to take him seriously. Trump refuses to subordinate U.S. business interests to national security absolutism, but at the same time he is negotiating with other countries to exclude China from global economic networks. He defers to Chinese sensitivities on Taiwan but his Pentagon is pushing Biden-era containment measures in an even moreaggressivedirection. Just this week, Trump offhandedly claimed he is negotiating with the Taliban to restore U.S. control over Bagram Air Base because “it’s an hour away from where China makes its nuclear weapons.” Such inconstancy might flummox U.S. allies into significant concessions, but it’s ruinous in the China relationship.
If Trump were serious about a deal, he could start by focusing his administration on a breakthrough agreement to bring large-scale Chinese investment into crucial industries like battery manufacturing through joint ventures with U.S. companies. With proper national security safeguards and binding conditions to guarantee the hiring of local workers, a union neutrality agreement, and technology transfer, Chinese companies would regain access to the world’s largest market and the American economy would regenerate vital industrial capacities.
But “focus” is the key word here. China will accept the loss of the U.S. market and continue preparing for open conflict if Trump cannot clearly reorient the United States. And given the continuing commitment to conflict in both parties, the DC establishment would happily carry us into such a disastrous conflict.
The Bunker appears originally at the Project on Government Oversight and is republished here with permission.
Drones vs. dogma
You could deduce a war going on high overhead last week as the Pentagon hemmed and hawed over how to keep the aerospace edge that it has viewed as its property since World War II. As outside experts warned of the U.S. losing its grip on the sky because it isn’t keeping pace with the drone revolution, Russia was probing NATO’s eastern flank. The alliance bolstered security following at least 19 drone incursions over Poland September 10. “Russia is likely attempting to gauge both Poland’s and NATO’s capabilities and reactions in the hopes of applying lessons learned to future conflict scenarios with the NATO alliance,” the independent Institute for the Study of War said. Gulp.
Despite spending billions on its own drones, the Pentagon is ill-prepared to defend its forces against such enemy aircraft, a report(PDF) from the Center for a New American Security concludes. “After decades of air dominance and a near-monopoly on precision strike, the United States now faces a dramatically different, more hostile world as the proliferation of cheap drones has democratized mass precision fires,” says the report, released the same day Russia poked Poland. “It is likely that in any future conflict, drones will pose an unavoidable threat to American forces,” authors Stacie Pettyjohn and Molly Campbell add.
“All too often,” the report says(PDF), “U.S. forces use exquisite precision-guided missiles worth hundreds of thousands if not millions of dollars apiece to destroy cheap drones.” Not gonna work.
Unfortunately, the Defense Department is following its usual path to deal with this latest threat: spending like there’s no tomorrow. Or rather, like it’s still yesterday.
It remains business as usual for the U.S. military: Lockheed, the Department of Defense’s biggest contractor, was publicly salivating over its push to turn its troubled F-35 into a Ferrari. Boeing has been boasting that its yet-to-fly F-47 fighter is likely to fly sooner than anticipated. The Air Force hailed the first flight of Northrop’s second B-21 bomber from its California plant on September 11. And the service is spending $8 billion beefing up Lockheed’s F-22 fighter fleet.
Yet all of these aircraft require humans in the cockpits, with all the range, cost, and safety complications such carbon-based cargo carries. The swarming warnings on what future wars will look like are increasingly drone-centric. A wide-awake Pentagon, not welded to the past, needs to divert more of its spending on yesterday’s weapons to come to grips with tomorrow’s threats.
Throw-weighting good money after bad…
Speaking of spending money on yesterday’s weapons, the Air Force has acknowledged it can keep its fleet of ground-based intercontinental ballistic missiles in service until 2050. That may be necessary, because the service has run into problems developing the replacement it says it needs.
“The Air Force reported to Congress in 2021 that Minuteman III would reach the end of its service life in 2036,” the Government Accountability Office said in a September 10 report on the ICBM fleet. “Now, facing delays to Sentinel, the Air Force is evaluating options to continue operating Minuteman III through 2050.”
Yikes! The Minuteman III was first deployed in 1970, when the U.S. military was waist deep in the big muddy of Vietnam. If deployed until 2050, they will have been standing guard for 80 years — four times longer than the war in Afghanistan.
The Pentagon largely blames the delays — and an eyewatering 81% hike in the missile fleet’s price tag, to $140.9 billion — on the service’s pie-in-the-dirt scheme to reuse much of the current ICBMs’ ground-based infrastructure for the new missiles.
But as the current ICBM fleet ages, and its replacement grows ever more costly, there is another option. The land-based ICBM force is the least-valuable leg of the nation’s nuclear triad, which also includes submarine-launched missiles and bombers. It is beyond ripe for amputation.
But old habits die hard. The Pentagon is addicted to the Sentinel, bolstered by lawmakers whose states are home to the ICBM fields and the missile makers. So, count on this nuclear madness continuing until we’re broke, reduced to ashes, or both.
Another flubbed Air Force procurement
The Air Force Academy’s strikingly modern Cadet Chapel in Colorado Springs, Colorado, doesn’t have much in common with the service’s drones and missiles. Except that its cost, like theirs, is rising faster than a 4th of July firework.
The Air Force shut down the 1962 chapel, largely to fix its leaky aluminum roof and the resulting water damage, in 2019. It planned on spending $158 million and wrapping up the job in 2022. It built a “cocoon” around the 14-story structure so weather wouldn’t slow down the effort. But there were supposedly unanticipated problems — like asbestos — that recently have driven its cost to $335 million and its completion to 2028. That’s a 112% cost increase and a six-year delay.
It’s a too-typical S.N.A.F.U. — Situation Normal: Air Force Unknowns — that’s encoded in the service’s DNA. It mirrors the kind of wishful-thinking woes the Air Force is having with its Sentinel ICBM program cited above. (“Let’s reuse the missile silos!” “What asbestos?”). These are basic building-block oversights that wouldn’t be tolerated in the real, non-military world. That’s why it’s taking twice as long to plug the leaks in the chapel’s roof as it did to rebuild the Notre Dame cathedral in Paris following its devastating 2019 fire. And why has the cost of the chapel’s repairs doubled? “The high costs have been driven by the complex design of the building,” Mary Shinn of the Colorado Springs Gazette reported last year.
Bingo! Pretty much like everything else the Air Force designs and builds.
President Donald Trump’s advertised $175 billion “Golden Dome” missile shield will likely cost about $3.6 trillion if it is going to be as robust as Trump promises, defense-budget guru Todd Harrison of the conservative American Enterprise Institute wrote in a September 12 analysis.
The Pentagon has hired a contractor to begin work on bettering its biggest bunker buster following their use against buried Iranian nuclear sites in June, Greg Hadley reported September 8 at Air & Space Forces Magazine.
Following Trump’s deployment of troops to U.S. cities, the number of Americans missing work for National Guard duty has reached a 19-year high, the Washington Post’s Abha Bhattarai reported September 7.
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Top image credit: 3rd SFG Soldiers on the range with Republic of Mali Armed Forces during a training exercise. Fort Bragg, NC. 8/4/2009 US Army Special Operations Command
The Trump administration is reportedly increasing its intelligence sharing and military support to military-ruled Mali, Burkina Faso, and Niger — all as part of a transactional framework aimed at boosting American access to critical minerals while also contesting Russian and Chinese influence in Africa. The administration’s approach may well find a receptive audience in Bamako, Ouagadougou, and Niamey, as well as within hawkish elements of the national security bureaucracy back in Washington. Yet the enhanced support is unlikely to make a meaningful difference in combating insurgencies in the troubled Sahel region.
The central Sahelian countries have been troubled by jihadist activity since the 2000s, and a rebellion in northern Mali in 2012 provided jihadists an even greater role in the region. Intensive French counterterrorism operations from 2013 to 2022 initially knocked jihadists back. Yet from 2015 onwards, insurgency spread from northern Mali into central zones of that country and into Burkina Faso and Niger, eventually spilling over into Benin, Togo, and Cote d’Ivoire as well (although Cote d’Ivoire has achieved some tenuous success in blunting jihadists’ momentum there).
As insecurity intensified in the region, the Sahel’s civilian leaders appeared flummoxed, while national militaries responded with heavy-handed yet inconsistent operations that inflamed, rather than undermined, jihadist mobilization. Mounting insecurity and citizens’ widespread disappointment with their civilian leaders resulted in a string of coups from 2020 to 2023.
The military regimes that took power stressed a message of national sovereignty and empowerment, which involved expelling French forces, challenging the terms of multinational firms’ resource extraction, and escalating the military campaigns against jihadists. The “sovereigntist” message has electrified many citizens in the Sahel and beyond, giving the military regimes significant popular appeal, but its application in counterinsurgency has been a disaster: violence has risen, and Mali and Burkina Faso in particular have progressively lost control of their national territory. A set of coordinated attacks in western Mali on July 1 underscored the expansion and intensification of jihadist violence across most of that country.
Some commentators blame a supposed “security vacuum” for the instability that has mounted under the juntas’ watch. Yet the departure of French troops (and the suspension of various forms of cooperation with Washington, such as the Nigerien junta’s decision to expel American troops) is, at most, one factor among many in explaining rising violence. Neither French operations nor American assistance halted the expansion of jihadist insurgencies in the late 2010s, and the patronizing and distorting effects of Western security assistance helped create the conditions that led to the coups – and to the anti-Western tenor of the juntas.
Meanwhile, even as Paris and Washington (under Biden) decried the Sahelian juntas’ (and particularly the Malian regime’s) embrace of Russian assistance, Russian counterterrorism deployments merely took the logic of the “War on Terror” to its brutal conclusion, as Russian and Malian patrols terrorized civilians in the name of restoring security. All of the Sahel’s would-be external security providers offer more or less the same hollow promise – namely, each external partner promises that it has the most sophisticated recipe for killing jihadists. All have failed. The Trump administration can even mimic Russia by promising security assistance without the kind of preachy rhetoric around human rights, development, and “good governance” that the Biden administration used and that French President Emmanual Macron also indulged in. But “taking the gloves off,” as Russia’s actions have shown, only exacerbates civilian suffering while delivering just as much failure as the French and American version of the Sahelian “War on Terror” did.
Outside powers’ record of failure in the Sahel suggests that the Trump administration’s offers of intelligence and security assistance likewise mean little. Intelligence sharing might help locate top jihadist leaders, for example — but the French killed several dozens of senior operatives without unraveling the insurgency, and the Malian junta has repeatedly trumpeted its kills and captures of jihadist commanders. Intelligence sharing cannot fundamentally address the problem of an insurgency with a mass base of young fighters drawn from both urban and rural communities, able to paralyze key transport arteries, strike military outposts, impose economic blockades on important towns, and ambush both national militaries and foreign “trainers” in remote locations (such as Tinzaouaten, Mali, as the Russians learned in 2024; and Tongo-Tongo, Niger, as the Americans learned in 2017).
Nor is the problem of security one that comes down to either hardware, training, or even money — the Sahelian insurgencies have deep social roots, the region’s militaries (and paramilitaries) are riven with internal problems, and the skeletal states of the Sahel are ill-equipped to restore effective governance no matter whether it is civilians or generals who are in charge.
The kind of transaction that Trump administration officials have in mind may also fizzle out. Security for minerals sounds straightforward enough but ill-fits the sovereigntist mood in the region, where regimes and many citizens are eager to have more, rather than less, control over extraction and profits. As firms such as Canada’s Barrick are discovering in Mali, meanwhile, the juntas are formidable opponents, willing to detain staff, poach senior employees, and demand more taxes.
While Trump officials may hope to pry open new opportunities for American firms, those same firms would be bold, if not outright reckless, to rush into a fast-moving and risky environment. The politics of resource extraction also blur into the murky world of intra-junta rivalries and tensions, and any minister or government interlocutor who promises something ultimately serves only at the pleasure of the military ruler(s).
Finally, it is striking how little changes in Washington’s thinking about security in Africa. If the Trump administration is less concerned with human rights than were the Biden or Obama administrations, fundamental dynamics nevertheless remain the same — particularly the idea that intelligence and security assistance are transformative levers for transforming conditions on the ground and/or for securing other policy goals, whether geopolitical influence or critical minerals.
Even amid Trump’s personalistic and ad hoc policymaking style, meanwhile, the renewed outreach to the Sahel is likely good news for bureaucracies such as U.S. Africa Command, which risked being set adrift (or even downgraded) under Trump. In resuming cooperation without seriously reflecting on past failures, the administration and the bureaucracy may simply fall back into old patterns of security cooperation that fit governments’ wants without addressing ordinary people’s needs.
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