"Peace President with a Gun to the Sky"

by Nancy O’Brien Simpson

Photo: Flickr by Gage Skidmore, https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/

Дональд Трамп выступает со сторонниками на предвыборном митинге в конференц-центре Phoenix Convention Center в Финиксе

They call him the Peace President now, the man with the red hat and the twitching finger, the man of stage fog and promises rolled in gold leaf, saying he’ll end the wars while polishing the bullets.

He’s shouting about the deficit again, like a preacher screaming about sin while pocketing the offering plate—cutting food stamps, healthcare, school lunches, the soft arms of society that hold up the tired and the broken. He says we have to tighten the belt. He says we’re broke.

But let’s break that down for a second, shall we? The U.S. government’s deficit stands at $33 trillion, and this administration is slashing programs like SNAP (food stamps) by $15 billion while pushing for a $1 trillion military budget. You read that right—a trillion, for war, for drones, for bombs. For the blood of our neighbors who need healthcare, the veterans forgotten in the streets, the children whose schools are crumbling around them.

They say we can’t afford to feed the poor, but we can afford to build more bombs.

But then—then, oh then—he turns and tosses a trillion dollars into the roaring mouth of the war machine, the great American God of Metal and Noise, the Pentagon beast that never sleeps. One trillion dollars for tanks, for drones, for contracts soaked in oil and ambition, and he says it's for peace.

He says Peace with a capital P, but what kind of peace comes at the end of a missile? What kind of peace needs ten aircraft carriers, twenty more nukes, and the blood of a thousand social programs drained out to keep the beast fed?

Let’s talk about the real price of this “peace.” The U.S. spends more on its military than the next 11 countries combined. The military-industrial complex makes billions while over 37 million Americans live in poverty. Over 6 million children are at risk of hunger, and nearly 28 million Americans are uninsured. But hey, we’ve got the world’s most expensive war machine to protect us from... what? The next war? The next fear? The next profit?

Don’t tell me it’s peace. Don’t lie in daylight.

Peace is a mother with enough to feed her kids. Peace is a warm bed for a veteran under a roof that doesn’t leak. Peace is a preschool open, a hospital not closed, a hand not holding a gun but reaching to help.

But this isn’t peace. This is theater. This is empire in drag, war in makeup, and fear sold as strength. And the ones who cheer the loudest never send their sons, never skip a meal, never feel the heat go off in January.

The truth is—this is about a system that profits from war, a system that keeps the suffering class drowning in debt while the elites laugh all the way to the bank. It’s a system that would rather build walls of bombs than build the walls of a strong, healthy, educated society.

We could have had a country of kindness. We could have paid the teachers, healed the sick, lifted the streets. Instead, we have a Peace President with a trillion-dollar sword and no shame. One trillion dollars to kill. Nothing for life.

So don’t tell me to calm down. Don’t tell me to wait and see.

I’ve seen it. And I won’t be quiet while they call it peace.