How about a special draft for Donald Trump into the Army for evading the draft during the Vietnam War with fake bonespurs?
Join the conversation:
https://similarworlds.com/politics/5450363-Pentagon-threatens-to-recall-Sen-Mark-Kelly-to-military
How about a special draft for Donald Trump into the Army for evading the draft during the Vietnam War with fake bonespurs?
Join the conversation:
https://similarworlds.com/politics/5450363-Pentagon-threatens-to-recall-Sen-Mark-Kelly-to-military
History is not just a ledger of events or bullet points in a text book—it’s a series of choices, each branching to possibilities realized or squandered.
In 1991, we stood at such a crossroads. We had Saddam Hussein’s Iraqi army shattered, his air force a shadow of itself, and his regime teetering. But we chose to stop, to declare victory without securing it.
Instead of pushing to Baghdad, removing Saddam, and forcing an unconditional surrender—broadcast to the Iraqi people as unmistakable proof of their tyrant’s defeat—we let the dictator remain. Worse, we left his power structure and brutal apparatus largely intact.
What followed was entirely predictable. Saddam crushed internal revolts by the Shia and Kurds, using helicopter gunships we had naively exempted from the ceasefire restrictions. He rebuilt his military, defied U.N. inspectors, plotted assassination attempts against former President George H. W. Bush, and continued to destabilize the region. We were left policing Iraq from the air, enforcing no-fly zones, while stationing U.S. troops in Saudi Arabia—a presence that Osama bin Laden cited as a principal grievance and recruiting tool for al-Qaeda.
What if we had finished the job in 1991? Imagine, instead, an unconditional Iraqi surrender, broadcast across the nation, with Saddam Hussein and his military generals escorted onto the deck of a U.S. aircraft carrier in the Persian Gulf to sign his humiliation into history—much as the Japanese government did on board the USS Missouri on September 2, 1945. Iraq’s mechanized divisions obliterated. Its air force annihilated. Hussein’s Republican Guard destroyed. Saddam and his top brass hauled before an international tribunal for war crimes, including the gassing of Kurds and Iranians alike. That is how you end a war and deliver justice to war criminals — at the end of a rope. That is how you punctuate “Mission Accomplished.”
And then, as we did with Japan, the U.S. and its allies could have overseen Iraq’s political reconstruction. Instead of leaving a broken country to fester under tyranny, we could have drafted a new Iraqi Constitution that enshrined secular governance, robust human rights, and equality for women—much as we compelled post-war Japan to do.
Instead, the Iraqis got a constitution steeped in sectarianism and religious authority. Article 2 of the Iraqi Constitution declares Islam the official religion and a fundamental source of legislation, stating, “No law that contradicts the established provisions of Islam may be established.” And in Article 29, the family is framed in terms of religious and moral values, preserving a framework that limits women’s rights under the guise of protecting tradition.
By contrast, under U.S. guidance, Japan’s post-war constitution revolutionized civil rights. Women gained the right to vote within months of surrender. Article 14 of Japan’s constitution declares that “All of the people are equal under the law and there shall be no discrimination in political, economic or social relations because of race, creed, sex, social status or family origin.” Marriage was redefined based on mutual consent and equality between sexes. The constitution even entrenched a separation of religion from the state—something inconceivable in the Iraqi document.
In Japan, a devastated nation emerged as a democratic, pacifist ally. Iraq could have been the same, if only we had the foresight and resolve to see the mission through in 1991.
Instead, we imposed sanctions that starved civilians, enforced no-fly zones for a decade, and left a festering wound that Osama bin Laden exploited to recruit jihadists, citing the U.S. military presence in Saudi Arabia—a presence that need not have existed if Saddam had been toppled in 1991.
Our half-measure in 1991 led to the full catastrophe of 2003. Instead of just repeating mistakes we made brand new mistakes, such as disbanding the Iraqi army entirely instead of restructuring it, ensuring chaos filled the vacuum.
History isn’t kind to hesitation in the face of tyranny. Former British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher was right when she said that aggressors must be not just stopped, but crushed so thoroughly that they can never rise again.
In 1991, we had that chance. Gen. Barry McCaffrey’s 24th Infantry Division (Mechanized) was in position to decimate the Republican Guard as they fled toward Basra. But after news footage of the so-called “Highway of Death” aired—showing the remnants of a retreating Iraqi army—Secretary of Defense Dick Cheney and Joint Chiefs Chairman Gen. Colin Powell urged President George H.W. Bush to halt the offensive because Washington feared the optics of winning too decisively.
And the world has been paying for that decision ever since.
We must learn the right lesson: never fight a war with the goal of returning to the status quo ante. If a war is worth waging, it must be worth winning—completely.
As Gen. Douglas MacArthur said prophetically during another war: “War’s very object is victory, not prolonged indecision.”
Unchecked surveillance is not safety—it’s soft tyranny.
There’s a dangerous lie circulating in our political bloodstream: that if you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear.
Let me be absolutely clear—privacy is not a privilege granted by the state. It is a right, intrinsic and unalienable, grounded in the Fourth Amendment and the very principle of liberty. Yet we are witnessing, again and again, the erosion of that right—by surveillance systems that grow ever more sophisticated, by legal loopholes that politicians eagerly exploit, and by a government increasingly comfortable outsourcing its dirty work to private corporations.
This didn’t begin with the Patriot Act, but it certainly accelerated there. After 9/11, many in Congress panicked and signed away constitutional safeguards in the name of security. Secret courts rubber-stamped blanket surveillance warrants. Metadata from millions of Americans was hoovered up indiscriminately. The Constitution was not consulted. The people were not informed. And even today, many Americans remain unaware that the Patriot Act allows the government to seize records—including those held by banks, libraries, and even doctors—without requiring probable cause.
History shows us the cost of looking the other way.
J. Edgar Hoover’s FBI spied on civil rights leaders, journalists, and political dissidents using illegal wiretaps and blackmail. He compiled secret files on Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and tried to destroy him. No one elected Hoover. No one could stop him. He operated above the law, weaponizing surveillance as a tool of coercion and control.
Then came President Richard Nixon, whose “enemies list” targeted anyone he deemed disloyal—from reporters to sitting members of Congress. He deployed the machinery of the federal government to surveil and punish political opponents. Sound familiar? It’s what happens when surveillance is no longer about security—but about power.
And today, the playbook has simply become more digitized.
Rather than go through the trouble of obtaining a warrant, government agencies now buy your personal data from third-party data brokers—companies that track your phone, your apps, your searches, your purchases, your location. That’s how authorities have tracked women who travel across state lines seeking abortions. Even when the government doesn’t violate state laws outright, it sure as hell finds ways to sidestep them.
This isn’t hypothetical. This is happening.
In some states, women have been interrogated and criminalized after seeking reproductive care. In one case, a teen and her mother were prosecuted after Meta (Facebook) handed over their private messages to Nebraska law enforcement. Imagine thinking your DMs are private only to find them weaponized against you in court.
We’ve seen women illegally strip-searched, sometimes forcibly. It happened when Michael Bloomberg was mayor of New York City, and it continues to happen today. This was more than Bloomberg just wanting to see if McDonald’s was giving you a free refill of your pop. Young girls. Elderly women. Suspects who hadn’t been convicted of anything. Strip-searched and dehumanized. It’s not a stretch to say we are criminalizing the female body under the guise of security and “order.”
And then there’s the Mount Vernon Police Department, a city just north of the Bronx. It not only had a policy to strip-search every person put under arrest, they also strip-searched people they did not place under arrest, as well as detaining and interrogating people without formally arresting them. Citizens were even arrested simply for verbally criticizing officers.
But government overreach isn’t always as obvious as a wiretap, a scandal or a no-knock raid. It’s often quieter—and just as much or even more insidious.
And private surveillance isn’t any safer. Companies are using license plate readers at malls and shopping centers, storing where you go and when, and then selling that data. People have been stalked or harmed using Apple AirTags, which were intended to help find lost items—but have become another tool of control and harassment. Police departments have used Amazon Ring’s doorbell footage from neighbors to build informal surveillance networks—sometimes without warrants, and often without real oversight. And does it really need to be said what law enforcement has planned for drone usage?
We’ve seen this same dehumanizing pattern play out in fiction—but make no mistake, fiction warns us because reality is never far behind.
In 2002, NASA proposed using brainwave and body scanning technology at airports to detect passengers’ “intent” to commit a terrorist act—literally trying to read travelers’ minds. Yes, really. The idea reads like dystopian science fiction. In fact, it mirrors the Psi Corps from Babylon 5—a government agency of telepaths used to scan the thoughts of citizens and root out disloyalty. In the show, privacy is obliterated, dissent is punishable, and even dreams aren’t safe.
In Babylon 5, Earth President Morgan Clark came to power not through democratic succession, but through a conspiracy that resulted in the assassination of his predecessor, President Luis Santiago (a plot Clark himself was complicit in). Once in office, Clark exploited fear and nationalism to consolidate his grip on power. He dismissed or replaced key military leaders, installing loyalists who would not question his increasingly autocratic orders. He weaponized the Psi Corps to monitor citizens’ thoughts and root out dissent before it could even be spoken. Anti-alien hysteria was fanned into public paranoia, providing a pretext for censorship, propaganda, mass arrests, and purges. Citizens were encouraged to report one another. What began as rhetoric about protecting Earth and preserving order quickly devolved into a full-blown descent into authoritarianism. Sound familiar? Under Clark, the Earth Alliance was transformed into a surveillance state where civil liberties were crushed under the weight of state security—and the line between loyalty and fear disappeared entirely.
The same cautionary themes echo in Continuum, where the dystopian threat isn’t just about government—it’s about privatized power run amok. Set partly in 2012 Vancouver and partly in a corporate-dominated future, the show reveals how even well-meaning institutions can slide into tyranny when fear, profit, and control converge.
Inspector Jack Dillon, head of the Vancouver Police Department in the present day, begins as a conventional law enforcement figure. But as terrorist attacks and unrest escalate, he adopts increasingly draconian tactics—targeting protestors, deploying invasive surveillance technologies, and working closely with corporate backers under the pretense of maintaining order. He even uses fear of violence to justify detentions and crowd control that bypass legal due process. The blueprint for this shift? The future that protagonist Kiera Cameron comes from: a society ruled not by elected governments, but by the Global Corporate Congress—a merger of economic and political power in which City Protective Services (CPS) replaced traditional law enforcement.
In 2077, the CPS isn’t accountable to the public. It answers to shareholders. Citizens are monitored constantly through biometric implants, ubiquitous surveillance, and predictive algorithms. Individual rights are subordinate to corporate interests, and anyone who questions the system is labeled a terrorist. Kiera, herself a CPS officer, believes she’s enforcing peace—but slowly realizes she’s a tool of repression. Her orders are not about justice. They’re about control. Protest is criminalized. Dissent is crushed. And the façade of safety is maintained through a society where privacy is nonexistent and obedience is mandatory.
What makes Continuum chilling is that its dystopia doesn’t rise from a dramatic coup or violent revolution—it evolves incrementally through “reasonable” compromises in the name of security, commerce, and efficiency. The show asks: What if law enforcement, the courts, and democracy itself were bought, branded, and privatized?
It’s not hard to see reflections of that world in our own: when police departments enter surveillance-sharing agreements with corporations, when private data firms track citizens without their consent, or when fear becomes a political currency used to pass laws that make us less free. Continuum doesn’t just imagine the future—it warns us of a path we’re already on.
We’re also heading down the road of turning citizens into surveillance tools themselves. That’s exactly what happened in Communist Romania under Nicolae Ceaușescu. The regime enlisted hundreds of thousands of informants to spy on their neighbors, coworkers—even members of their own family. People were imprisoned or disappeared not because of hard evidence, but because someone reported a “suspicious conversation” or a joke told in the wrong company. Surveillance metastasizes when fear becomes currency and when the neighbor next door becomes an unofficial agent of the state.
And once surveillance begins, innocent people always get caught in the net.
In North Carolina, a man was wrongfully implicated in a crime because of the misuse of cell tower location data—a method that’s wildly imprecise and often misinterpreted. The North Carolina Office of Indigent Defense Services has documented such cases, and courts are now scrutinizing “tower dumps,” where police collect data from everyone connected to a nearby tower—whether they’re suspects or not. The Washington Post reported that such practices have quietly swept up millions of Americans’ private data without their knowledge.
The most terrifying dystopias are the ones we willingly walk into with our eyes wide open. If we continue to trade liberty for convenience, or safety, or partisan gain, we will wake up in a country we no longer recognize. One where privacy is obsolete, where dissent is criminal, and where power justifies anything.
We must say no.
No to mass surveillance without warrants.
No to governments buying data from companies to skirt the law.
No to strip-searching women and girls like they’re property.
No to mind-reading technology and bulk cell data grabs.
No to neighbors spying on neighbors in the name of security.
No to secret courts, secret files, and secret deals.
No to politicians who believe they’re entitled to our lives, our bodies, our thoughts.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Privacy is not a privilege. It’s a right. And if we don’t fight for it, we won’t lose it all at once—we’ll lose it piece by piece, click by click, silence by silence.
Let’s not wait until the last alarm has sounded.
———-
(c) 2025. Becky Romero
Permission is granted to republish in full online or in print so long as a link is provided back to BeckyRomero.com
When exactly did we agree that privacy was just a nice-to-have? Was there a public vote I missed, where we all decided that it’s totally fine for corporations, creeps, and the government to treat our bodies and identities like public property?
Because based on what I’m seeing, it sure feels like the answer is yes. Every time a mother drags her school-aged son into the women’s locker room, we’re told to smile politely and just deal with it. Apparently, the feelings of a grown boy and his mother matter more than the comfort and privacy of every woman and girl in the room. Sorry, but no — locker rooms aren’t co-ed just because someone can’t find a babysitter.
And then there’s the never-ending horror show in Starbucks bathrooms. How many hidden cameras do we need to find before coffee shops start handing out training manuals titled, “Don’t Record Customers Peeing — And Other Workplace Etiquette”? Seriously, how is this even a question?
Meanwhile, in the digital world, we’ve apparently decided that anonymity is an outdated concept — especially if you work in the adult industry. Facial recognition algorithms are now deployed like some dystopian snitch, digging through the internet to unmask legal, consenting adults. Because nothing says “technological advancement” like weaponizing AI to harass women out of their livelihoods.
And let’s not forget the TSA’s favorite party trick: full-body scanners. Can you imagine if those existed 75 years ago? Somehow I don’t think the Greatest Generation would’ve queued up for the privilege of being digitally strip-searched. But today? We call that “security” and pretend it’s normal. I’m just waiting for the TSA to roll out a Frequent Flier Punch Card — 10 scans and you win a free strip-search, body-cavity search included.
Of course, there have been all sorts of reports about TSA employees huddled in hidden rooms, oogling the breasts of female travelers on their scanners. The TSA — or as some of us have called it — “The Titty Surveillance Agency.”
But if you thought that was invasive, buckle up — because this society seems positively obsessed with strip-searching women and girls under the flimsiest of pretenses.
We’ve got schools strip-searching sixth-grade girls because some cop thought someone might be hiding $50 in their underwear. Fifty bucks. A sum so insignificant that it barely buys you dinner — yet somehow justifies the complete degradation of children.
Then there are the college students forced to strip because a tampon was mistaken for contraband. You’d think we were living in the Dark Ages.
And corporate America? No better. A Target male security guard took it upon himself to strip-search a female customer. In Kentucky, a McDonald’s manager forced a teenage female employee to strip totally naked and then took all her clothes. Why? Because some guy calling on the phone claiming to be a cop told her to do so. To top it off, she even called male employees into the back office to gawk at the exposed employee — before having her boyfriend come to the restaurant to watch her until the supposed cop would arrive. The manager’s boyfriend then took instructions by the caller to spank — yes, spank — the naked young woman and forced her to perform a sexual act on him.
This isn’t just a U.S. problem either. In Russia, a teenage girl was ordered by a male cop to remove her bra — all in the name of security. I’m sure she felt very secure afterward.
Where is the outrage? Why are we tolerating a culture where a woman, a girl, or a student can be ordered to undress on command — by a stranger, a guard, a cop, or any fool with a badge and a warped sense of authority?
This isn’t about prudishness or paranoia. Privacy is not just about surveillance cameras and digital footprints. It’s about ownership of your body. It’s about the right to not be treated like a suspect by default, or a piece of property someone else gets to inspect.
These are not isolated incidents. They are part of a broader, dangerous trend that says our bodies, our images, and our private moments are fair game for exploitation — as long as it’s done in the name of convenience, safety, or curiosity.
Well, I don’t buy it. And I’m not apologizing for saying so.
Privacy is not a luxury item for the privileged few. It is a fundamental right — whether you’re an adult worker safeguarding your identity, a woman expecting dignity in a locker room, or just someone who’d prefer not to be filmed mid-squat in a coffee shop restroom.
For those who still think these concerns are “overblown,” I have news for you: you’re either not paying attention, or you’ve accepted the role of background extra in your own surveillance nightmare.
We deserve better. And we damn well ought to demand it.



The survey, released Thursday by Marquette University, found that 83 percent of respondents believe the commander in chief should follow the laws decided by the Supreme Court justices. However, 17 percent say the president has the power to disregard and overrule those decisions.
https://thehill.com/homenews/administration/5143561-83-percent-say-president-is-required-to-follow-supreme-court-rulings-survey