Michael: What if I told you that the world's leading terrorist state isn't a rogue nation in the Middle East, but the country that claims to lead the 'free world'? It's a shocking claim, and today we're diving into the evidence behind it. Kevin: Whoa, that's a heavy accusation, Michael. That’s the kind of statement that gets you put on a list somewhere. Where do you even start with a claim like that? Michael: You start with one of the most relentless and challenging thinkers of our time. That provocative idea is at the heart of Noam Chomsky's book, Who Rules the World?. Kevin: Chomsky, right. I know he's a giant in linguistics, but he's also one of the most cited and controversial political thinkers alive. What's fascinating is that this book isn't some dense academic text; it's a collection of sharp, accessible essays written for a broad audience, which is probably why it has such polarizing reviews. Michael: Exactly. He's not just an academic; he's been a relentless activist since the 60s, and this book distills decades of his critique of American power. He starts by asking a simple question: who really rules the world? And Chomsky argues the answer lies in understanding the massive double standards we live with every day. He calls it the great game of hypocrisy. Kevin: Okay, 'hypocrisy' is a strong word. I'm going to need a concrete example to really get what you mean. Give me a real-world case that shows what you're talking about.

Michael: Alright, let's look at two nearly identical tragedies with wildly different outcomes. Do you remember the downing of Malaysia Airlines Flight 17 over Ukraine in 2014? Kevin: Of course. It was horrific. 298 people killed. The outrage was immediate and global. The U.S. led the charge, blaming Russian-backed separatists. There were calls for justice, sanctions, international tribunals. It was a defining moment of international crime. Michael: Exactly. A monstrous crime. Now, let me take you back to July 1988. Iran Air Flight 655, a civilian Airbus, is flying on its normal, scheduled commercial route over the Persian Gulf, within Iranian airspace. A U.S. Navy warship, the USS Vincennes, is in those same waters. The ship's commander, despite other officers on nearby ships expressing disbelief, identifies this civilian plane as a hostile F-14 fighter jet. Kevin: Wait, a commercial airliner? How could they make that mistake? Michael: That's the question, isn't it? The Vincennes fires two surface-to-air missiles and blows the plane out of the sky. 290 people are killed, including 66 children. It's a civilian plane, on its regular route, in its own airspace. Kevin: My god. I’ve barely even heard of that. What happened? What was the fallout? Surely the outrage was just as intense? Michael: There was virtually no outrage in the U.S. President Reagan defended the action, essentially blaming Iran for being there. His Vice President, George H.W. Bush, running for president at the time, made his position crystal clear. He said, "I will never apologize for the United States—I don’t care what the facts are." Kevin: He actually said that? "I don't care what the facts are"? Michael: Word for word. And it gets worse. The commander of the Vincennes and the officer in charge of anti-air warfare were later awarded the Legion of Merit for their "exceptionally meritorious service." One for his time as commander of the Vincennes, the other specifically for his actions during the attack. Kevin: So, let me get this straight. When a plane is shot down and Russia is implicated, it's an "outrage of unspeakable proportions." When the U.S. does the same thing, it's "meritorious service" and the victims are to blame? Michael: That is precisely Chomsky's point. It’s the first rule of modern international affairs: the crime is defined by the perpetrator, not the act. When "they" do it, it's terrorism. When "we" do it, it's a regrettable but necessary act of self-defense, or just a tragic mistake. And the people responsible get medals. Kevin: Okay, but that was decades ago. You could argue it was a different time, the height of the Iran-Iraq war. Is this pattern something that Chomsky sees continuing today? Michael: Absolutely. It's not just about military actions; it's about who we even recognize as a victim or a hero. Chomsky brings up the story of the six leading Jesuit intellectuals in El Salvador in 1989. These were priests who were outspoken critics of the brutal, U.S.-backed military dictatorship. They were advocates for the poor, for justice—what Chomsky calls "value-oriented intellectuals." Kevin: So they were dissidents, speaking truth to power. Michael: Exactly. And for their trouble, they, along with their housekeeper and her daughter, were brutally murdered on the direct orders of the Salvadoran high command. The killers were from an elite battalion armed and trained by Washington. The U.S. knew who was responsible. Kevin: What was the reaction in the U.S.? Were they honored as martyrs for freedom, like dissidents in the Soviet Union were? Michael: Silence. They were barely a footnote. In fact, Chomsky points out the cruel irony that Václav Havel, the celebrated Czech dissident, shortly after becoming president, visited Washington and gave a speech to Congress praising the American "defenders of freedom" who had armed and trained the murderers of his Latin American counterparts. The very people who killed these intellectuals were celebrated by a hero of dissent. Kevin: Wow. So the definition of a "dissident" worth honoring depends entirely on whose power they're challenging. If they challenge our enemies, they're heroes. If they challenge our allies, or our own power, they're invisible, or worse, they're obstacles. Michael: Or they're labeled terrorists. Chomsky points out that Nelson Mandela was on the U.S. terrorist list until 2008. Kevin: Nelson Mandela? The man who ended apartheid? Michael: The very same. Because for years, the U.S. under Reagan was a staunch supporter of the apartheid regime in South Africa. So Mandela, fighting that regime, was officially a terrorist. It's a perfect illustration of the principle: your moral status is determined by your relationship to U.S. power. And this is where Chomsky makes a brilliant and chilling connection. He says this same hypocrisy we project outward is mirrored by a war being waged inward, against our own democracy.

Kevin: A war against democracy? That sounds even more extreme than calling the U.S. a terrorist state. How does he connect foreign policy hypocrisy to what's happening at home? Michael: He does it by taking us back 800 years, to the signing of the Magna Carta in 1215. Kevin: The Magna Carta? Okay, I remember that from history class. King John, the barons, something about basic rights. It feels a bit ancient and dusty. Michael: It does, but Chomsky argues it's more relevant than ever because its core principles are being systematically dismantled. He points out there were actually two charters. Everyone knows the Magna Carta, the Charter of Liberties, which established principles like the presumption of innocence and due process—the idea that even a king is not above the law. Kevin: Right, the foundation of modern law. Michael: But there was a companion document that's been forgotten, called the Charter of the Forest. This charter protected the "commons"—the shared resources of the people. The forests, the rivers, the fuel, the food. It wasn't about private ownership; it was about ensuring the public had access to the resources needed for survival. It was a radical statement about collective well-being. Kevin: So, one charter for individual rights, and one for collective resources. That's a powerful combination. How is that relevant now? I don't see anyone trying to privatize Sherwood Forest. Michael: Chomsky argues they are, just on a global scale. He says both charters are being shredded before our eyes. Let's start with the Magna Carta. The principle of "presumption of innocence." In 2011, the U.S. government assassinated Anwar al-Awlaki, an American citizen, with a drone strike in Yemen. No trial, no jury, no due process. Kevin: I remember that. The justification was that he was a key al-Qaeda propagandist. Michael: He was. But the Magna Carta’s promise is that you are judged by a jury of your peers, not by secret deliberations within the executive branch. The Justice Department literally issued a memo saying that for cases like this, due process is satisfied by those internal White House discussions. That's the modern equivalent of the king simply declaring someone guilty. The principle is gone. Kevin: Okay, I see the connection there. It's a direct erosion of a foundational right. What about the other one, the Charter of the Forest and the commons? Michael: This is where it gets even bigger. The "commons" today aren't just forests; they're the environment, clean water, public education, even the digital world. And they are under relentless assault by what Chomsky, borrowing from Adam Smith, calls the "masters of mankind"—the corporate and financial elite. Kevin: The one percent. Michael: Precisely. Their guiding principle, their "vile maxim" as Smith called it, is "All for ourselves, and nothing for other people." Chomsky shows how this plays out. A mining company, Pacific Rim, sues the government of El Salvador for millions because El Salvador passed environmental laws to protect its own water supply from the company's destructive gold mining. The company claimed the environmental laws were depriving it of future profits. Kevin: So protecting your own citizens' water is a violation of a corporation's right to profit? That's insane. Michael: It's the logic of the new age. The commons must be privatized and exploited for profit. And this isn't just happening abroad. Chomsky draws a direct line from this ideology to the class war happening in the United States. He points to the systematic destruction of labor unions, which were a form of a "commons"—a collective power for workers. Kevin: I've seen the stats on that. Union membership has plummeted. Michael: And it wasn't an accident. Chomsky details how agreements like NAFTA were used as a weapon. Management could just tell workers, "If you vote to unionize, we're moving this factory to Mexico." It was a direct threat, and it worked. Organizing collapsed. The result? For the last few decades, 95% of economic growth has gone to the top 1%, while median male income is lower than it was in the 1960s. Kevin: So it's like the powerful are rewriting the rules of the game in their favor, both on the world stage by defining who the 'terrorists' are, and in our own legal and economic systems by dismantling collective power. Michael: Exactly. It's the same playbook. Abroad, it's called "protecting U.S. interests." At home, it's called "free markets" and "economic growth." But the outcome is the same: power and wealth are concentrated in the hands of a tiny few, while democracy and the well-being of the many are treated as disposable.

Kevin: So, whether it's labeling foreign enemies or weakening unions at home, Chomsky is saying it's all part of the same strategy, run by the same small group of powerful interests. Michael: That's the core of it. Chomsky's ultimate point is that the greatest threat to our world isn't a specific country or a particular ideology. It's the unaccountable power of these 'masters of mankind.' Their 'vile maxim,' as Adam Smith called it over 200 years ago, remains the same: 'All for ourselves, and nothing for other people.' This single principle, he argues, explains almost everything—from the wars we fight to the reason your wages haven't gone up in decades. Kevin: And he connects this to the biggest threats of all, right? Nuclear war and climate change. Michael: Yes, and it's his most terrifying conclusion. He argues that these two existential threats are being actively accelerated because solving them would require international cooperation and would threaten the short-term profits and unchecked power of the fossil fuel industry and the military-industrial complex. The security of the human species is a marginal concern compared to the security of their power and profit. Kevin: It's a pretty bleak picture, but it's hard to argue with the evidence he lays out. It leaves you wondering what on earth you can do about something so massive. Michael: It does. And Chomsky's final challenge to the reader is simple, though not easy. He doesn't offer a ten-point plan. He just says: now that you see the game, what are you going to do about it? The first, most crucial step is to stop believing the official story. To question who benefits from the narratives we're fed every day. Kevin: To look at who is being called a terrorist, and who is getting a medal for the exact same act. Michael: Precisely. And to recognize that the fight for the commons, whether it's a forest 800 years ago or a livable planet today, is the same fundamental struggle. Michael: This is Aibrary, signing off.