Before 2001, opposition to unaccountable groups like the IMF was on the rise. Since then, anti-government sentiments have evolved, fueled by frustration and resentment.
Part One:
From privatization and corporate globalization to grassroots resistance and 9/11
Looking at the behavior of many leaders, it’s easy to conclude that governments just can’t be trusted. Whether the men (and occasionally women) in charge are opportunist politicians, military officers, or ethically-challenged bureaucrats, they rarely inspire much faith that the State will promote fairness and protect individual rights in exchange for the power it assumes and pain it can impose.
In the US, this suspicion dates back to the colonial secession from England — a primal rejection of illegitimate central authority. Since then, distrust of government has fueled many episodes of resistance – from Daniel Shays’ 1786 tax revolt and Timothy McVeigh’s bombing of the Oklahoma City federal building to the US capital assault in 2021. But as Gary Wills argued in his study of government distrust, A Necessary Evil, the real victims of this attitude "are the millions of poor or shelterless or medically indigent who have been told, over the years, that they must lack care or life support in the name of their very own freedom. Better for them to starve than to be enslaved by ‘big government.’ That is the real cost of our anti-government values."
Such suspicion creates a vicious circle, leading to actions that further erode trust, and perpetuating a cycle of negativity that can undermine democracy and social cohesion. When citizens lack confidence in their government they’re less likely to cooperate, and more susceptible to misinformation. Over time, they stop talking to one another. The cycle can lead to political instability and reduced effectiveness in facing challenges. Even the truth, wheb revealed through media, courts, science and schools, can become a threat.
In the late 20th century, public distrust — often buttressed by specious arguments about state’s rights, personal freedom, and the sanctity of private enterprise — fueled a global crusade to privatize services, shred safety nets, and turn management of the planet over to corporate and bureaucratic insiders with their own rules. After Ronald Reagan redefined the US federal government as "the problem, not the solution," Americans were repeatedly told that it was wasteful and ineffective — if not crooked — while private enterprise was dynamic and effective, the best way to protect liberty and produce wealth.
As I warned during those years, anti-government attitudes were making people susceptible to reactionary, often isolationist appeals. Even though they might realize that no single nation can control violence, reverse environmental destruction, or protect basic rights around the world, many citizens assumed that any form of "global management" was either a naive fantasy or a potential nightmare.
In a sense, however, it was already happening, through groups operating behind closed doors and accountable only to those managing obscure administrative agencies. The World Bank and International Monetary Fund (IMF) virtually ran the economies of many countries, primarily in the interest of transnational industries and global financial interests. The UN played a small role, primarily as a forum for dialogue and a convenient place to dump problems. But even there, the real power rested with the five permanent members of the Security Council — the US, Britain, France, China, and Russia.
Meanwhile, the World Trade Organization (WTO) pursued a transfer of economic decision-making to the global level, turning human beings and the environment into tools for expanding trade and commerce. Rather than worrying about secular humanists or black helicopters, those concerned about a New World Order should have paid more attention to the open conspiracy to create a Corporate World Order.
Some suspicion about the potential for abuse of power by governments was certainly legitimate and deserved. Yet, the form of centralized power that most threatened society then (and still does) isn’t public, it’s private: the destructive power of big business, wealthy individuals and elite financial institutions. Influencing and sometimes even determining the actions of governments, these ought to be the main focus of scrutiny and action. Conveniently, the same interests have often led campaigns to convince us that freedom means "me against the world" or "me against the government." Appealing to fears of public intrusions into our personal lives is a convenient way to derail attempts to reign in the so-called "right" to profit at the expense of the general health and well-being, and exploit in the name of freedom.
One promising step in the right direction at the end of the 20th century was a grassroots movement to challenge the de facto world government, a "mobilization against globalization" that opposed groups like the WTO. More accountability, as well as serious consideration of environment, labor, and human rights impacts, were some of its demands. I thought it could go even further, moving beyond suspicion of governments to work for democracy at the world level.
As the new millenium began, I was still optimistic. But shortly after the election of George W. Bush, an upheaval began.
In early 2001, uprisings challenging privatization, low wages, structural adjustment, and other globalization policies were growing throughout Central and South America. When leaders from the Western Hemisphere gathered in Quebec City to iron out details for a Free Trade Area of the Americas (FTAA), massive protests on the street combined with widespread dissent inside the summit to derail the negotiations.
Unable to continue ignoring demands for change, the establishment was forced to respond. In June, at a G8 summit in Genoa, leaders professed new concern about poverty, debt, and environmental threats. It was less than believable, but there was growing apprehension in corridors of power. During the first six months of the Bush administration, Europe broke with the US on missile defense, trade rules, the “war on drugs” in Colombia, and climate change. In the UN, it was ejected from the Human Rights Commission. Global trade deals were going nowhere and NATO’s future was up for discussion.
A serious challenge to the prevailing world order was gaining ground. In most media, the coverage was spotty, biased, and incomplete — as usual. But the essence of the argument was breaking through. As summer waned, events suggested that the next months would be crucial. In late September, the anti-globalization movement was planning to converge in Washington, DC during a meeting of the IMF and World Bank.
But as history often illustrates, when elites feel they are under effective attack and can find a convincing pretext, they don’t hesitate to use extreme tactics, from disinformation and provocateurs to repression and premeditated violence, in order to recapture hearts and minds. Such tactics are often a desperate resort of groups that know they lack illegitimacy, or else presage a break that pulls away the mask, beginning a process of real change.
And then, like a volcanic eruption, predictable and inevitable, murderous assaults on symbols of US power shattered the landscape, rocked institutions, and altered how we would respond for years to come. Some compared the September 11 attacks to Pearl Harbor. Others pointed to the date itself — 9/11 — and called it an emergency wake up call.
Part Two:
From the war on terror, tea party and militias to the Hoax administration and imagining a way out
Even before the 9/11 attacks, behind a calm facade, the world was entering a time of chronic crisis. Yet millions remained oblivious, dancing on the Titanic, denying signs of weakness, chronic anxiety and cynicism. Among the obvious symptoms were a preoccupation with disasters and scandals, nagging feelings of emptiness, repressed rage that too often led to explosions of violence, and insatiable appetites. Despite doubts about the legitimacy of many institutions, not to mention the recent US presidential election, a defensive complacency allowed millions to ignore reality.
As the US entered World War I in 1917, US Senator Hiram Johnson had issued a warning that went to the heart of the predicament. “The first casualty when war comes is truth,” he explained. Although he didn’t mention it, the second casualty was also obvious — freedom. After 9/11, both were surrendered as the media stoked primal fears, setting the stage for the most dangerous rollback of basic rights since the 1950s.
When it came to distorting reality, the tactics and objectives in regard to the anti-globalization movement were obvious. As in other political scares over more than 200 years, the attacks began with promoting the idea that dissent was a threat to security and “order.” Despite denials, many regimes were ready, even eager to classify opponents as potential terrorists or accomplices. Similar to the presidential junta’s rhetoric these days, critics were labeled communists, extremists and anarchists. Public anxiety was weaponized to override freedom of speech and assembly, privacy, and protection from cruel and unusual punishment. The spin began even before the Twin Towers fell, with thinly veiled suggestions that “stability” was threatened by “enemies within” and abroad.
Rampant speculation and predictions about looming catastrophes kept mass audiences in a permanent state of anxiety, and glued to their screens for the next live installment. The fact that truth would take a back seat wasn’t even disguised. As TV talking head Brit Hume told The New York Times, neutrality was fine as a general principle, but not when the threats were coming from “murdering barbarians.” Bush spokesman Ari Fleischer warned that, in times like these, “people have to watch what they say and watch what they do.”
The global war on terror prosecuted over the next years ended the momentum of the anti-globalization movement. What replaced it for a while was an anti-war movement, resisted at first by many Democrats. A majority supported the Bush administration’s Authorization for the Use of Military Force (AUMF) against Afghanistan, although some Democrats did oppose its extension to Saddam Hussein’s Iraq regime — on the basis of false charges that it was developing “weapons of mass destruction.”
By the time Barack Obama became president, mass protests against global corporate power were rare, although they were rekindled briefly in 2011. In the US, the nascent movement was called Occupy Wall Street. In the Middle East and North Africa, it was known as the Arab Spring. Although different, they had themes in common — anger about economic inequality, government corruption, and unaccountable private interests.
But the momentum was shifting toward a new reactionary uprising. One wing was known as the Tea Party, which opposed government spending and alleged federal overreach. In contrast to the Occupy movement, leaders of this new right-wing crusade didn’t hesitate to participate in elections and began to replace so-called “moderates” and RINOs (Republicans in Name Only) with more extreme “true believers.” The other wing featured various militia groups, which combined anti-government and conspiratorial thinking with paramilitary organizing. Formations like the Oath Keepers and Three Percenters emerged and grew, seeding the ground for the militant cadres that ultimately helped lead the 2021 assault on the US Capital.
Both wings were zealous backers of Donald Hoax, a more accurate name for the current President. In 2025 they are experiencing cognitive dissonance as safety net cuts, bizarre tariff talk, and doublespeak about the long-awaited release of explosive documents make the second Hoax administration look incompetent or complicit.
As economic nationalism — with roots dating back to the 19th century — re-emerged, the emphasis and tactics of the anti-globalization movement changed. Rather than taking aim at international institutions like the WTO and IMF, it focused on impacts within specific countries. Large protests were less common, and criticism of corporate power gave way to concern about national sovereignty and economic protectionism. Though the movement didn’t completely disappear, it became fragmented.
Meanwhile, new conservative thinkers have supported an "America First" approach, with protectionist trade policies similar to those advocated by left-wing figures like Bernie Sanders. There are still debates about corporate-friendly, multi-national trade agreements, but also about supply chains and unchecked global integration.
Anti-government sentiments are more widespread than ever, fueled by frustration and resentment and ranging from deep skepticism to violent hostility. Conspiracy theories are often in the mix. The first quarter of the 21st century has been a period of increased polarization and economic inequality. Social bonds have weakened, disagreement quickly turns into anger and alienation, and feelings of disconnection leave people with little faith that any institutions or authorities can be trusted.
The incoherence and incompetence of the Hoax administration ensures that trust won’t soon return. Before deep suspicion can be overcome, we need to better understand its roots. And that requires more candor and mutually respectful discussion than has recently been possible, plus leaders more willing to listen and admit errors. We also must find new ways to reward educated skepticism and innovation rather than conformity.
What some forget is that democracy is fundamentally a conversation. No one group, even one that has the support of a majority, has the right to exclude others from fully participating.
Humanity continues to need realistic, tolerant, planet-level guidance, bold proposals that help ensure health and freedom for all, and practical plans to deal with arms proliferation, malnutrition, toxic materials, drug (and digital) addiction, and artificial intelligence, among other challenges. As John Lennon wrote in Imagine, his haunting anthem, “Maybe I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one.”
Lennon’s lyrics, an inspiring call to unity, are about imagining a peaceful world, one free from the divisions created by nationalism and materialism. In this time of markets, transactional relationships, and amoral self-interest, that can sound like pie-in-the-sky idealism. But the belief that governments are inherently evil is just as extreme, a toxic projection of our worst possibilities.
Rather than a Hobbesian view — that humans are inherently selfish, driven by a desire for power that leads to a “war of all against all” — let’s presume instead that a harmonious and participatory approach to planetary management can still be developed, a movement beyond nationalism that nurtures children, helps poor regions develop along sustainable lines, mitigates the effects of climate change, and truly respects human rights. Rather than remain trapped in a cycle of distrust, as the slogan popularized by the World Social Forum puts it, we can instead assume that “another world is possible.”
This essay includes material originally published by Toward Freedom in December 1999 and the book Uneasy Empire, published in 2003.
