Michael: The term 'failed state' usually brings to mind images of war-torn countries on the other side of the world. But what if the nation that invented the term is the best example of one? Kevin: Whoa, that's a heavy start. You mean, a country with a collapsed government, no rule of law? Michael: What if the biggest threat to global democracy is the country that claims to be its greatest champion? Kevin: Okay, now you have my full attention. That's a massive contradiction. What are we talking about today? Michael: That's the explosive argument at the heart of Noam Chomsky's book, Failed States: The Abuse of Power and the Assault on Democracy. Kevin: Chomsky, right. The legendary linguist and political critic. I know his work is highly acclaimed but also incredibly polarizing. What was going on when he wrote this? Michael: Exactly. He wrote it in 2006, right in the thick of the Iraq War and the 'War on Terror.' It was a moment of intense debate about American power, and Chomsky basically held up a mirror to the US and said, 'Look at yourselves.' Kevin: A pretty unflattering mirror, I'm guessing. Michael: You have no idea. And his starting point is that very definition of a 'failed state,' which he argues the U.S. fits to a terrifying degree.

Kevin: Hold on. How can the world's only superpower be a 'failed state'? That sounds like a contradiction in terms. What are the criteria? Michael: Chomsky lays out three simple, official-sounding characteristics. First, an inability or unwillingness to protect its citizens from violence and destruction. Second, a tendency to regard itself as beyond the reach of domestic or international law. And third, suffering from a serious 'democratic deficit,' where the government doesn't reflect the will of its people. Kevin: Okay, the last two I can see people arguing about, but the first one? 'Failing to protect its citizens'? The US has the largest military in world history. Michael: That’s the brilliant, terrifying irony. Chomsky argues that the greatest threat to American citizens isn't an external enemy, but the policies of their own government. He points to two existential threats: nuclear war and environmental catastrophe. And on both fronts, US policy has actively increased the danger. Kevin: Increased it? How? Michael: Let's talk about the nuclear threat. It feels abstract, like a relic of the Cold War. But Chomsky reminds us of just how close we've come. Take the Cuban Missile Crisis in 1962. Most people know it was a tense standoff. But the details are chilling. Kevin: I picture Kennedy and Khrushchev on a hotline, making a deal at the last second. Michael: The reality was far more chaotic. At the peak of the crisis, a Russian submarine, armed with a nuclear torpedo, was being bombarded by US destroyers trying to force it to surface. The sub's commanders, cut off from Moscow, believed war had already started. Two of the three senior officers on board gave the order to fire the nuclear torpedo. Kevin: Oh my god. What would have happened? Michael: It would have obliterated the US naval group, and the US would have retaliated with a massive nuclear strike. It would have been the end of human civilization. We now know it was, as one historian put it, "the most dangerous moment in human history." Kevin: So what stopped them? Michael: The third officer. A man named Vasily Arkhipov. He was the only one who refused to authorize the launch. A single person's refusal, in the chaos of a submarine under attack, saved the world. We survived by sheer, dumb luck. Kevin: That's absolutely terrifying. And Chomsky's point is that our government is creating more situations like that? Michael: Precisely. He points to the Bush administration's doctrine of 'anticipatory self-defense'—the idea that we can attack anyone we think might be a threat someday. He details the push to militarize space, develop new, more 'usable' nuclear weapons, and portray the US as 'irrational and vindictive' to scare other nations. The result isn't more safety; it's a new arms race and a world teetering on a hair-trigger. Kevin: And this connects to the 'democratic deficit' you mentioned? Michael: Perfectly. Polls consistently show that the American public wants to reduce military spending, rely on diplomacy, and sign international treaties. But policy goes in the exact opposite direction. US military spending is nearly equal to the rest of the world combined. There's a massive chasm between public will and public policy. That, for Chomsky, is a hallmark of a failed state. Kevin: It's a powerful argument. The government is supposed to protect you, but its actions put you in more danger, and you have very little say in it. Michael: Exactly. The state is failing at its most fundamental duty.

Kevin: Okay, so there's a massive gap between what the people want and what the government does. But how do they get away with it, especially when it comes to things like starting wars or, say, torturing people? Those things are illegal. Michael: Ah, this is where it gets truly sinister. Chomsky argues that when the actions are indefensible, you don't change the actions. You change the definitions. You create an architecture of deception. Kevin: What do you mean? Michael: After 9/11, the Bush administration wanted to use interrogation techniques that were clearly defined as torture under international law, like the Geneva Conventions. So, what did they do? They had their lawyers, like then-White House Counsel Alberto Gonzales, write memos that redefined the word 'torture.' Kevin: Redefined it how? Michael: It's almost unbelievable. A memo from the Office of Legal Counsel argued that for an act to be torture, the pain inflicted had to be "equivalent in intensity to the pain accompanying serious physical injury, such as organ failure, impairment of bodily function, or even death." Kevin: Wait. Let me get this straight. They wrote a legal document that basically says, 'It's not torture unless you're about to die or your organs are failing'? Michael: That's the gist of it. Anything less was just 'inhuman and degrading treatment,' which they argued was permissible. Gonzales even called the Geneva Conventions 'quaint' and 'obsolete' in a memo to the President, arguing they shouldn't apply. Kevin: This is mind-bending. They're not just breaking the law; they're rewriting the dictionary to make the law meaningless. It’s like something out of Orwell. Michael: It's a legal framework for committing war crimes. And Chomsky shows the horrifying real-world application of this logic in Iraq, specifically with the US assault on the city of Falluja in 2004. Kevin: I remember Falluja was a major battle. Michael: It was a massacre. The US military bombed the city for weeks, turning back any men of fighting age who tried to flee. And what was one of the very first things they did when the ground assault began? They attacked the Falluja General Hospital. Kevin: Why the hospital? Michael: The New York Times reported it on their front page. An officer said the hospital was a "propaganda weapon for the militants" because of its "stream of reports of civilian casualties." So they stormed it. Soldiers forced patients and doctors onto the floor at gunpoint, tying their hands behind their backs. They shut down the source of inconvenient information. Kevin: They attacked a hospital to control the narrative. That's a war crime, plain and simple. Michael: According to the Geneva Conventions, yes. And this is where Chomsky brings in the Nuremberg principles, established after World War II. They state that acting as a government official doesn't relieve you from responsibility for international crimes. He's making a direct, chilling link between the legal justifications of the 2000s and the crimes of the 1940s. Kevin: It's a complete rejection of what he calls the 'principle of universality'—the idea that you should apply the same standards to yourself that you apply to others. Michael: They shatter it. They create one set of rules for America, and another for everyone else. And that double standard is justified by this elaborate, cynical architecture of deception.

Michael: And this architecture of deception isn't just for external enemies like Al-Qaeda. Chomsky argues it's often used against something the US fears even more: a good example. Kevin: A good example? What could be threatening about a good example? Michael: This is maybe the most profound and disturbing part of the book. Chomsky argues that for over a century, a primary driver of US foreign policy has been the fear of what he calls 'the threat of a good example' or 'successful defiance.' Kevin: I'm not following. What does that mean? Michael: It means the US is often not threatened by a country's military or its ideology, but by its potential to create a successful, independent model of development that benefits its own people. If a small, poor country manages to break free from US control and build a society that works for its citizens, that's a 'virus' that might 'spread contagion' to other countries in the region. Kevin: So other countries might get the same idea? That they don't need to follow Washington's orders? Michael: Exactly. It threatens the whole system of global control. This is why, Chomsky argues, the US has a long and brutal history of crushing genuine democratic movements. A perfect case study is Chile. In 1970, Salvador Allende was democratically elected on a socialist platform. Kevin: And the US didn't like that. Michael: They hated it. Not because Chile was a military threat, but because it was a potential democratic success story outside of US control. Henry Kissinger, Nixon's National Security Advisor, said, "I don't see why we need to stand by and watch a country go communist due to the irresponsibility of its own people." So the US worked to "make the economy scream," funded opposition, and ultimately supported the bloody military coup on September 11th, 1973, which installed the brutal dictator Augusto Pinochet. Kevin: So they destroyed a democracy to... save it from itself? Michael: They destroyed a democracy to prevent the virus of a good example from spreading. And contrast that with US policy towards Indonesia under the dictator Suharto. He was one of the most brutal and corrupt leaders of the 20th century, responsible for hundreds of thousands of deaths. But he was our guy. He opened the country to Western corporations and was a reliable anti-communist ally. Kevin: So it's not about democracy versus dictatorship. It's about our kind of government versus their kind of government. If a country successfully goes its own way, especially if it benefits its own people, it's a threat. Michael: You've nailed it. It all comes back to what Adam Smith called the "vile maxim of the masters of mankind": All for ourselves, and nothing for other people. Any country that tries to prioritize its own people over the interests of US corporations and planners becomes an enemy that must be disciplined or destroyed. The rhetoric is always 'democracy promotion,' but the reality, Chomsky shows, is often 'democracy prevention.'

Kevin: Wow. So if you put it all together, the picture Chomsky paints is incredibly coherent, and incredibly dark. Michael: It is. He connects the dots in a way that's hard to ignore. First, the US government's policies are making the world more dangerous for its own citizens, meeting a key criterion of a failed state. Second, it justifies these dangerous and illegal actions through a sophisticated architecture of legal and rhetorical deception, twisting the meaning of words like 'torture' and 'self-defense'. Kevin: And third, the underlying motive for so much of this isn't fighting evil, but crushing any independent nation that might provide a 'good example' for others, proving that a different way is possible. Michael: Exactly. It's a system designed to maintain dominance at all costs, even at the cost of the very principles of law, safety, and democracy it claims to uphold. Kevin: It's a bleak picture. It makes you question the entire narrative we're told about America's role in the world. Michael: It's meant to be. Chomsky's goal in Failed States isn't to offer easy solutions, but to force a difficult, painful self-reflection. He's asking a fundamental question: If we apply our own standards to ourselves, what do we see in the mirror? Kevin: A question that feels more relevant than ever. It leaves you thinking, what does genuine democracy promotion—at home and abroad—actually look like? And what can individuals do when faced with such a massive democratic deficit? Michael: That's the challenge he leaves us with. The first step, he would argue, is to see the system for what it is. Kevin: A powerful, and unsettling, place to start. Michael: This is Aibrary, signing off.