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Nicholas Galanin
Art as a Weapon Against Colonialism

The first in a series of hide paintings for guiding the escape of Indigenous remains and objects in non-Indigenous Institutions to return to their home communities, Architecture of return, escape (Metropolitan Museum of Art) is a mapped escape plan for objects held in the Met in New York City.
The work is a plan for wayfinding during decolonization; requiring return, building new structures for good ways of being. Of the few objects held in display cases, many more (including human remains, and ceremonial objects not intended for public view) are held in museum archives. The cost and processes required to travel and visit these archives limits access to cultural knowledge and inheritance for Indigenous communities, and continues the removal of the objects from their land and people. While institutions control the air temperature, humidity, uv exposure and dust, they are unable to adequately care for these objects in cultural or spiritual ways.
Painting information on hides to remember, and instruct has a long history in many Indigenous communities, particularly for recording significant events or feats of bravery. In this series of work, the hide paintings depict a floor plan referencing a visitors guide and architecture blueprints for building. The objects themselves are unwilling visitors to the museum, and the painting builds a route for escape and vision for reunification of cultural inheritance with community. In the painting, the galleries of the museum containing Indigenous American objects (along with elevators and stairs coming from the archives) are marked with a red dashed line leading to the exit. The exit from the museum is also an entrance for our cultural at.óow (ceremonial objects) imprisoned in these spaces, an entrance for return to land, community and culture. The work serves as a reminder of the past, and as a plan for a good way forward; where stolen objects, human remains and works sold under duress can return home for their own health, for the health of the communities that created them, and for the health of the communities that took them.
EIP: Your art speaks volumes, and is often deliberately “provocative”; tell us first about your life outside of the art you do, the person from which the expression comes?
NICHOLAS: My life is deeply shaped by my connection to the Land, water, community, and family. Beyond my art practice, I navigate my days with a sense of responsibility to these relationships, recognizing that they ground both my work and my existence.
A typical day begins early with children going to school, I often try to get outside—whether walking, running or simply being present with the Land, I love witnessing the seasons and nature’s clock. Living in Alaska, the Land is powerful, a teacher and provider. The weather and its natural rhythms influence so much of my practice and understanding. Summers are busy harvesting. Winters provide time for creating with less distraction.
Family is at the heart of my life. I prioritize being present for my children, supporting them in their education and growth, and sharing the values and knowledge passed down to me through continuum. This extends to my community, where mentorship and collaboration are part of daily experience—through conversations, shared meals, or working alongside others.
Much of my time is spent engaging with creative disciplines— researching, reading, listening and exploring ideas. Music is an integral part of this exploration, providing both a creative outlet and a meditative practice. Some days are dedicated to carving, others to the music studio, or working on projects that require research and concept. The throughline remains the same: honoring Indigenous knowledge, challenging structures that seek to erase it, and creating space for future generations.
Resistance is also present in my daily life—whether through showing up for movements that support Indigenous sovereignty, engaging in conversations about Land and imagined futures. I move forward with gratitude and a commitment to my people, my culture, and the responsibilities that come with both.

EIP: How would your children & family describe you as an artist?
NICHOLAS: Not that I would speak for my children on this, but I can lead with what knowledge they have access to. My children have understood that this practice is not separated from our life, our connection to Land, to sustenance, culture and continuum, how it is connected to language, to our survival and to time generationally, how it contributes to health and well being. My children have been raised to understand that the studio is free and alive, shifting with objects and projects that hold story. Often the work has generative dialogue that reaches into silenced history that is not taught in school systems. They are allowed to explore in the studio with the tools and material, some of my children continue their own creative practice in their own time and space. Music, Lingit formline, carving, jewelry etc. I am so grateful for them to have access to something that has been so enriching and meaningful to my life experience.
EIP: In all your years of work, what would be your favorite piece you have ever worked on?
NICHOLAS: I don’t spend enough time looking back to celebrate works or favorites. The process of creating and exploration includes growth and new thought, new perspective and experiment. I am so grateful for opportunities to travel and meet with other cultures and communities, any work that allows for this is thought of as a blessing and form of higher learning.
EIP: Your work often explores themes of Indigenous identity and culture. How has your heritage shaped your perspective as an artist, and what role does storytelling play in your art?
NICHOLAS: All of my work is rooted in my cultural understanding and connection to place. I was speaking with my friend Jeffrey Gibson who had invited me to present to his students and Jeffrey mentioned something I never really noticed about my practice. Jeffrey said I was a storyteller. I know that creative practice can change the world. I know that creative practice can provide clarity, focus and vision. This is transmission of thought, this is survival, this is responsibility and necessity. Culturally speaking our community had no word for art, yet the visual form and language was everywhere. It is part of existence and life.
EIP: Can you speak about the importance of reclaiming traditional art forms and narratives in contemporary Indigenous art?
NICHOLAS: The receipts of time (or the gaps) are well documented and represented in art collections, in museums, in language, in books and media. Indians and dinosaur bones are often experienced together by public school visits to the museum. Anthropology and romanticism is something we still navigate. My grandfather created work in an era where customary education had been purposefully broken, where our clan houses had been dismantled and our language forcefully removed. Our ceremonies were banned, our knowledge and Land extracted. To continue to relearn language and song, to provide and share harvests from the Land with elders, to teach the youth is care. Creating in continuum and building is power, consumption is colonial. This is a living community and the work we do exists because of those whose shoulders we stand on.
EIP: Much of your work touches on the resistance against colonialism and cultural erasure. How do you view the role of art as a form of protest or political expression?
NICHOLAS: Its voice in a space where our voices have been silenced, in a timeline where the media seeks to control and profit from our humanity at the expense of Land and life. Free Palestine, Free Congo, Free Sudan and Land Back. I am listening and learning. I have so much respect for those that voice and work towards collective liberation. We have seen so much backlash and it is clear that economic power is a tool with a means to oppress. Art is an opportunity.
EIP: What have been some of the most challenging or rewarding moments you’ve faced when addressing difficult historical and political subjects through your work?
NICHOLAS: Everything comes with challenges, whether it is fighting censorship or seeking funding to realize projects. I have fought for projects,I have fought for words to remain in text and for language and intention of work to be clearly stated. Words are a battlefield and the pushback can be proof of impact. Early on it felt great to have access and participation, through time I’ve seen that we are also being consumed. Understanding spiritual connection to place grounds me, knowing that the Land provides and cares is a powerfully humbling understanding. The challenge I look forward to most is growth.
EIP: If you could reflect into your youth and childhood, what moments have been deeply ingrained in you that have now become or affected a part of your artistic practice?
NICHOLAS: Growing up around the cultural art form was very inspiring and powerful, my fondest memories include the smell of red cedar in my uncle’s shop, the tools, the knives and all of my fathers jewelry making equipment. Music played a roll in this as well, instruments and song were always shared and loved in my family. In grade school I was practicing Lingit formline and drawing as often as possible, building and trying to understand this visual language with guidance from my father and uncle. We moved around often and the imagery connected me back to home in a meaningful way, it instilled pride in my culture and carried many other life teachings beyond the creative process. It is life work, it connects us with the community, to ceremony, to song, to Land and water, to past present and future. I wanted to understand more and this cultural art form had provided that insight, it still continues to provide more understanding. Through this work I learned that all is possible and for me that is incredibly powerful.

EIP: Do you feel like your art makes political statements? If this is so, have you always approached your work this way?
NICHOLAS: Yes. Indigenous existence is political. Land is political, water is political, air is political when the systems that consume and extract, damage, remove or forcefully seek to control it/us continue to exist. My initial training in the creative world began with customary apprenticeships carving wood and metals. I think the most continual aspect in my practice was something I still try to maintain to this day, which is to keep the mind open.
EIP: In light of growing global inequality, what do you believe are the most pressing issues that world governments need to prioritize?
NICHOLAS: Collective liberation, human rights for all, climate crisis, access to healthcare, affordable housing, and clean water. We can envision a better future.
EIP: Was there a specific moment or experience that made you realize the political potential of your work?
NICHOLAS: In order to access my culture I had to navigate institutions, museums and academia. So much of our culture had been intentionally removed through genocide. Learning about my history is highly political. My grandparents in an internment camp, my Unangax family forcefully removed from their villages. Boarding schools, forced assimilation, language removal. Erasure. The impacts still surface through living generations, we are still fighting to protect herring, salmon, waterways and for sovereignty and Land rights. My survival is political in a homeland that sought to remove us. There is a necessity and responsibility to bring voice to these conversations.
EIP: Can you talk about your connection to the youth, whether it’s your children or children you might work with. How do they respond to your work and what has been your focus if any when educating them using creativity?
NICHOLAS: Our culture lives through shared knowledge and continuum, I have and continue to take on apprentices and understand this as a form of living knowledge. Some were taught that if it had not been for museums who “care” for our at.óow (sacred objects) then we would not have them. This is myth created by settler supremacists, the same kind of mythology that calls any non-Eurocentric spiritual belief primitive, this is the same mythology that still continues to disregard Indigenous science. I like to speak about kooteeya (totem poles) when talking about this. In our communities the kooteeya is carved raised and returns back to the forest in its life. In colonial society these have been removed, preserved with arsenic and placed into collection. The preservation is in the knowledge and understanding of how to create the kooteeya, in the preservation and protection, care of the forests that provide the cedar to create the totem. The preservation and care has to be literal care for the community that stewards this knowledge, not just the fetishized object. I am starting a 2 year apprenticeship where I will train and work with younger artists, starting with tool making, design, cultural protocol and carving. The students will work with me over the course of this time and upon completion will have carved and raised a 25ft totem. This is knowledge transmission.

Keep reading:
Global Echoes of Resistance:
Artists Harnessing Art, Culture, and Ancestry
Danny Aros
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"title" : "Nicholas Galanin: Art as a Weapon Against Colonialism",
"author" : "Nicholas Galanin",
"category" : "interviews, visual",
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"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/nicholas-galanin-art-as-a-weapon-against-colonialism",
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"content" : "The first in a series of hide paintings for guiding the escape of Indigenous remains and objects in non-Indigenous Institutions to return to their home communities, Architecture of return, escape (Metropolitan Museum of Art) is a mapped escape plan for objects held in the Met in New York City.The work is a plan for wayfinding during decolonization; requiring return, building new structures for good ways of being. Of the few objects held in display cases, many more (including human remains, and ceremonial objects not intended for public view) are held in museum archives. The cost and processes required to travel and visit these archives limits access to cultural knowledge and inheritance for Indigenous communities, and continues the removal of the objects from their land and people. While institutions control the air temperature, humidity, uv exposure and dust, they are unable to adequately care for these objects in cultural or spiritual ways.Painting information on hides to remember, and instruct has a long history in many Indigenous communities, particularly for recording significant events or feats of bravery. In this series of work, the hide paintings depict a floor plan referencing a visitors guide and architecture blueprints for building. The objects themselves are unwilling visitors to the museum, and the painting builds a route for escape and vision for reunification of cultural inheritance with community. In the painting, the galleries of the museum containing Indigenous American objects (along with elevators and stairs coming from the archives) are marked with a red dashed line leading to the exit. The exit from the museum is also an entrance for our cultural at.óow (ceremonial objects) imprisoned in these spaces, an entrance for return to land, community and culture. The work serves as a reminder of the past, and as a plan for a good way forward; where stolen objects, human remains and works sold under duress can return home for their own health, for the health of the communities that created them, and for the health of the communities that took them.EIP: Your art speaks volumes, and is often deliberately “provocative”; tell us first about your life outside of the art you do, the person from which the expression comes?NICHOLAS: My life is deeply shaped by my connection to the Land, water, community, and family. Beyond my art practice, I navigate my days with a sense of responsibility to these relationships, recognizing that they ground both my work and my existence.A typical day begins early with children going to school, I often try to get outside—whether walking, running or simply being present with the Land, I love witnessing the seasons and nature’s clock. Living in Alaska, the Land is powerful, a teacher and provider. The weather and its natural rhythms influence so much of my practice and understanding. Summers are busy harvesting. Winters provide time for creating with less distraction.Family is at the heart of my life. I prioritize being present for my children, supporting them in their education and growth, and sharing the values and knowledge passed down to me through continuum. This extends to my community, where mentorship and collaboration are part of daily experience—through conversations, shared meals, or working alongside others.Much of my time is spent engaging with creative disciplines— researching, reading, listening and exploring ideas. Music is an integral part of this exploration, providing both a creative outlet and a meditative practice. Some days are dedicated to carving, others to the music studio, or working on projects that require research and concept. The throughline remains the same: honoring Indigenous knowledge, challenging structures that seek to erase it, and creating space for future generations.Resistance is also present in my daily life—whether through showing up for movements that support Indigenous sovereignty, engaging in conversations about Land and imagined futures. I move forward with gratitude and a commitment to my people, my culture, and the responsibilities that come with both.EIP: How would your children & family describe you as an artist?NICHOLAS: Not that I would speak for my children on this, but I can lead with what knowledge they have access to. My children have understood that this practice is not separated from our life, our connection to Land, to sustenance, culture and continuum, how it is connected to language, to our survival and to time generationally, how it contributes to health and well being. My children have been raised to understand that the studio is free and alive, shifting with objects and projects that hold story. Often the work has generative dialogue that reaches into silenced history that is not taught in school systems. They are allowed to explore in the studio with the tools and material, some of my children continue their own creative practice in their own time and space. Music, Lingit formline, carving, jewelry etc. I am so grateful for them to have access to something that has been so enriching and meaningful to my life experience.EIP: In all your years of work, what would be your favorite piece you have ever worked on?NICHOLAS: I don’t spend enough time looking back to celebrate works or favorites. The process of creating and exploration includes growth and new thought, new perspective and experiment. I am so grateful for opportunities to travel and meet with other cultures and communities, any work that allows for this is thought of as a blessing and form of higher learning.EIP: Your work often explores themes of Indigenous identity and culture. How has your heritage shaped your perspective as an artist, and what role does storytelling play in your art?NICHOLAS: All of my work is rooted in my cultural understanding and connection to place. I was speaking with my friend Jeffrey Gibson who had invited me to present to his students and Jeffrey mentioned something I never really noticed about my practice. Jeffrey said I was a storyteller. I know that creative practice can change the world. I know that creative practice can provide clarity, focus and vision. This is transmission of thought, this is survival, this is responsibility and necessity. Culturally speaking our community had no word for art, yet the visual form and language was everywhere. It is part of existence and life.EIP: Can you speak about the importance of reclaiming traditional art forms and narratives in contemporary Indigenous art?NICHOLAS: The receipts of time (or the gaps) are well documented and represented in art collections, in museums, in language, in books and media. Indians and dinosaur bones are often experienced together by public school visits to the museum. Anthropology and romanticism is something we still navigate. My grandfather created work in an era where customary education had been purposefully broken, where our clan houses had been dismantled and our language forcefully removed. Our ceremonies were banned, our knowledge and Land extracted. To continue to relearn language and song, to provide and share harvests from the Land with elders, to teach the youth is care. Creating in continuum and building is power, consumption is colonial. This is a living community and the work we do exists because of those whose shoulders we stand on.EIP: Much of your work touches on the resistance against colonialism and cultural erasure. How do you view the role of art as a form of protest or political expression?NICHOLAS: Its voice in a space where our voices have been silenced, in a timeline where the media seeks to control and profit from our humanity at the expense of Land and life. Free Palestine, Free Congo, Free Sudan and Land Back. I am listening and learning. I have so much respect for those that voice and work towards collective liberation. We have seen so much backlash and it is clear that economic power is a tool with a means to oppress. Art is an opportunity.EIP: What have been some of the most challenging or rewarding moments you’ve faced when addressing difficult historical and political subjects through your work?NICHOLAS: Everything comes with challenges, whether it is fighting censorship or seeking funding to realize projects. I have fought for projects,I have fought for words to remain in text and for language and intention of work to be clearly stated. Words are a battlefield and the pushback can be proof of impact. Early on it felt great to have access and participation, through time I’ve seen that we are also being consumed. Understanding spiritual connection to place grounds me, knowing that the Land provides and cares is a powerfully humbling understanding. The challenge I look forward to most is growth.EIP: If you could reflect into your youth and childhood, what moments have been deeply ingrained in you that have now become or affected a part of your artistic practice?NICHOLAS: Growing up around the cultural art form was very inspiring and powerful, my fondest memories include the smell of red cedar in my uncle’s shop, the tools, the knives and all of my fathers jewelry making equipment. Music played a roll in this as well, instruments and song were always shared and loved in my family. In grade school I was practicing Lingit formline and drawing as often as possible, building and trying to understand this visual language with guidance from my father and uncle. We moved around often and the imagery connected me back to home in a meaningful way, it instilled pride in my culture and carried many other life teachings beyond the creative process. It is life work, it connects us with the community, to ceremony, to song, to Land and water, to past present and future. I wanted to understand more and this cultural art form had provided that insight, it still continues to provide more understanding. Through this work I learned that all is possible and for me that is incredibly powerful.EIP: Do you feel like your art makes political statements? If this is so, have you always approached your work this way?NICHOLAS: Yes. Indigenous existence is political. Land is political, water is political, air is political when the systems that consume and extract, damage, remove or forcefully seek to control it/us continue to exist. My initial training in the creative world began with customary apprenticeships carving wood and metals. I think the most continual aspect in my practice was something I still try to maintain to this day, which is to keep the mind open.EIP: In light of growing global inequality, what do you believe are the most pressing issues that world governments need to prioritize?NICHOLAS: Collective liberation, human rights for all, climate crisis, access to healthcare, affordable housing, and clean water. We can envision a better future.EIP: Was there a specific moment or experience that made you realize the political potential of your work?NICHOLAS: In order to access my culture I had to navigate institutions, museums and academia. So much of our culture had been intentionally removed through genocide. Learning about my history is highly political. My grandparents in an internment camp, my Unangax family forcefully removed from their villages. Boarding schools, forced assimilation, language removal. Erasure. The impacts still surface through living generations, we are still fighting to protect herring, salmon, waterways and for sovereignty and Land rights. My survival is political in a homeland that sought to remove us. There is a necessity and responsibility to bring voice to these conversations.EIP: Can you talk about your connection to the youth, whether it’s your children or children you might work with. How do they respond to your work and what has been your focus if any when educating them using creativity?NICHOLAS: Our culture lives through shared knowledge and continuum, I have and continue to take on apprentices and understand this as a form of living knowledge. Some were taught that if it had not been for museums who “care” for our at.óow (sacred objects) then we would not have them. This is myth created by settler supremacists, the same kind of mythology that calls any non-Eurocentric spiritual belief primitive, this is the same mythology that still continues to disregard Indigenous science. I like to speak about kooteeya (totem poles) when talking about this. In our communities the kooteeya is carved raised and returns back to the forest in its life. In colonial society these have been removed, preserved with arsenic and placed into collection. The preservation is in the knowledge and understanding of how to create the kooteeya, in the preservation and protection, care of the forests that provide the cedar to create the totem. The preservation and care has to be literal care for the community that stewards this knowledge, not just the fetishized object. I am starting a 2 year apprenticeship where I will train and work with younger artists, starting with tool making, design, cultural protocol and carving. The students will work with me over the course of this time and upon completion will have carved and raised a 25ft totem. This is knowledge transmission."
}
,
"relatedposts": [
{
"title" : "Socialist Girl Summer: How Capitalism Spent Billions to Demonize Socialism — And Why That Spell Is Breaking",
"author" : "Céline Semaan",
"category" : "essays",
"tags" : "",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/socialist-girl-summer-demonize-socialism-why-spell-breaking",
"date" : "2025-07-03 22:00:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/EIP_SocialistGirlSummer.jpg",
"excerpt" : "As the founder of Slow Factory, I design everything you see—every typeface, every framework, every campaign. I don’t outsource the vision. I shape it. And I started Slow with one goal in mind: to rebrand socialism, justice, and environmentalism—not as niche causes, but as cultural movements essential to our survival. Design isn’t just about aesthetics. It’s about power. And I use design as a tool to imagine, demand, and build better worlds.For nearly a century, the United States has spent billions of dollars, media bandwidth, and educational muscle to ensure one thing: that the word socialism would strike fear in the public imagination. That’s not because socialism failed. It’s because socialism threatens power—especially the kind of power that hoards land, labor, and life for profit.But something is shifting. The re-election of Assemblymember Zohran Mamdani in New York—an openly socialist organizer who unapologetically defends tenants, workers, and Palestinians—marks a rupture in that narrative. A new generation no longer flinches at the word. They embrace it. They are building it. They are winning.But before we can move forward, we must understand what we are up against.",
"content" : "As the founder of Slow Factory, I design everything you see—every typeface, every framework, every campaign. I don’t outsource the vision. I shape it. And I started Slow with one goal in mind: to rebrand socialism, justice, and environmentalism—not as niche causes, but as cultural movements essential to our survival. Design isn’t just about aesthetics. It’s about power. And I use design as a tool to imagine, demand, and build better worlds.For nearly a century, the United States has spent billions of dollars, media bandwidth, and educational muscle to ensure one thing: that the word socialism would strike fear in the public imagination. That’s not because socialism failed. It’s because socialism threatens power—especially the kind of power that hoards land, labor, and life for profit.But something is shifting. The re-election of Assemblymember Zohran Mamdani in New York—an openly socialist organizer who unapologetically defends tenants, workers, and Palestinians—marks a rupture in that narrative. A new generation no longer flinches at the word. They embrace it. They are building it. They are winning.But before we can move forward, we must understand what we are up against.A Propaganda Empire Built on FearFrom Cold War cinema to first-grade civics books, socialism was rendered as the enemy. Not because it endangered democracy, but because it questioned private property, militarism, and capitalism’s sacred cow: unlimited profit.The U.S. government, backed by its capitalist elite, responded with a sweeping cultural war. The Red Scare and McCarthyism turned union leaders, civil rights activists, and artists into traitors. The FBI surveilled and imprisoned people for organizing against poverty and racial capitalism. Hollywood blacklists sanitized storytelling and sold capitalist mythology as aspirational truth. CIA coups, from Chile to Iran to the Congo, dismantled democratically elected socialist governments because they dared to nationalize oil, land, and education. This wasn’t a fear of failure. It was a fear of redistribution.Why the Spell Is BreakingCapitalism made big promises. But it delivered gig work, burnout, debt, climate collapse, and endless war. A growing number of people—especially Gen Z and Millennials—aren’t buying the myth anymore.According to Pew Research (2023), 70% of younger Americans support some form of socialism.Mutual aid groups, public power campaigns, and tenant unions are taking root in cities across the U.S.And politicians like Mamdani, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, Summer Lee, and others are bringing these values to governance—publicly, unapologetically.This isn’t a rebrand. This is a return. A remembering.Designing LiberationDesign has always been political. It’s a tool used by empires—and also a tool of resistance. Every successful propaganda campaign used design to criminalize solidarity and glorify capitalism.Mid-century posters showed socialism as monstrous: Stalin as an octopus devouring the planet. Red flags engulfing American homes in flames. Inspectors peering through windows. These visuals weren’t neutral. They were weapons.But today, we’re flipping the frame.As a designer, I use visual culture to demystify and disrupt these fear-based narratives. We design not just what we see—but how we see. And when we shift that perspective, we make new futures possible.My work at Slow Factory has always been about this: telling stories rooted in care, equity, and ecological justice. Whether through open education, cultural programming, or climate justice campaigns, I’m reprogramming what power looks like—and who it belongs to.Zohran Mamdani and the Future of StorytellingMamdani’s victory isn’t just electoral. It’s cultural. He won while calling for an end to genocide in Gaza, organizing with workers instead of corporations, and speaking openly about the harms of capitalism and imperialism.He won while the establishment poured millions into defeating him.His win is proof: the old script is wearing thin.Reclaiming the Word, Reclaiming the WorldSocialism has always been about care—public housing, free healthcare, universal education, the right to rest and exist without fear. These are not fringe demands. These are the bare minimum for a livable planet.The villain was never socialism. The villain was the empire that told us we didn’t deserve care unless we could afford it.We are entering the Possible Futures era. And it’s being led by people who no longer fear justice—but are terrified of its absence.Designing that future means unlearning propaganda and replacing it with stories of survival, resistance, and imagination. We must reclaim the visual language of dignity—transforming symbols of domination into frameworks for liberation.We don’t just need to rebrand socialism.We need to remember it.And redesign everything."
}
,
{
"title" : "Who’s Profiting from Genocide?: What Francesca Albanese’s Report Reveals—and Why It Matters for the Climate",
"author" : "EIP Editors",
"category" : "essays",
"tags" : "",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/profiting-from-genocide-what-francesca-albanese-report",
"date" : "2025-07-02 18:33:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/EIP_Francesca_Report.jpg",
"excerpt" : "Let’s be clear: genocide is never just a military operation. It’s an economy.",
"content" : "Let’s be clear: genocide is never just a military operation. It’s an economy.This week, UN Special Rapporteur Francesca Albanese released a groundbreaking report—“From the Economy of Occupation to the Economy of Genocide” naming dozens of global corporations complicit in and benefitting from Israel’s genocidal war on Gaza. The report makes what many of us have long known impossible to ignore: multinational corporations are not just “doing business” with Israel—they are profiting from displacement, resource theft, and mass death.And it’s not just harming people. It’s killing the planet.Albanese’s report lays out how corporations across defense, tech, finance, construction, and agriculture are directly enabling Israel’s assault on Gaza. This is not indirect. This is not abstract. These companies are not passive observers—they are profiteers. Weapon Manufacturers like Lockheed Martin, Elbit Systems, Boeing, BAE Systems, and General Dynamics are supplying the bombs raining down on hospitals and refugee camps. Tech Giants like Google, Amazon, Microsoft, IBM, and Palantir provide the cloud computing, AI surveillance, and targeting software that power Israel’s military intelligence. Construction Firms like Caterpillar, HD Hyundai, and Volvo provide bulldozers used to demolish Palestinian homes—often paid for with public funds or foreign aid. Hospitality Platforms like Booking.com and Airbnb list vacation rentals on stolen Palestinian land, laundering settler colonialism into leisure. Financial Institutions including BlackRock, Barclays, Citigroup, JPMorgan, and Deutsche Bank fund Israeli military bonds and invest in all the above sectors. This is what an economy of genocide looks like: global, profitable, and deeply entrenched in the status quo.Genocide and Ecocide Are Two Sides of the Same CoinThe same companies enabling genocide are actively destroying ecosystems. This isn’t a coincidence—it’s a pattern.Caterpillar, already infamous for displacing Palestinian families, is a major contributor to fossil fuel extraction and mining projects that poison Indigenous lands in the Global South.Palantir, which boasts about using AI to “optimize” military surveillance, is also deployed by ICE in the United States to track, detain, and deport climate refugees and migrants.Netafim, an Israeli irrigation company profiting off stolen Palestinian water, is celebrated as “sustainable innovation” in the ag-tech world—masking eco-apartheid as green tech.In short: genocide and ecocide share a supply chain. And we need to cut the cord.Elbit Systems, an Israeli weapons manufacturer, supplies drones and surveillance tech to police at the U.S.-Mexico border—and to ICE.HP and Google provide AI and cloud infrastructure for the Israeli military while also marketing themselves as “green tech” leaders.Chevron and ExxonMobil continue to fund and extract from the Eastern Mediterranean, leveraging Israel’s military occupation to secure infrastructure.This is greenwashing meets genocide—a deadly symbiosis between environmental harm and militarized violence.What This Means for UsThis moment calls for more than statements. It calls for a total redefinition of what sustainability means—because there is nothing sustainable about silence in the face of genocide.If you are a brand, an artist, a designer, a policymaker, a curator, or a student: you are being called in. Your work, your budget, your institution may be entangled—knowingly or not—with the companies Albanese has exposed. Now is the time to do the work.What We Must Do—Now1. Follow the MoneyStudy the companies listed in Albanese’s report. If you work with—or fund—any of them, ask questions. Divest. Cut ties.2. Demand Institutional AccountabilityMuseums, universities, nonprofits, and sustainability conferences are often quietly sponsored by companies profiting from Israeli apartheid. Push for transparency. Refuse complicity. Call it what it is.3. Connect the StrugglesThe fight for Palestinian liberation is not separate from climate justice. This is all one system: extraction, occupation, militarization, profit. As we say often: everything is political—because everything is connected.4. Build and Invest in AlternativesMutual aid, abolitionist design, food sovereignty, fossil-free infrastructure, and Indigenous stewardship—these are not just buzzwords. They are the way forward. Center Global South leadership. Fund frontline communities.5. Say PalestineRefuse the pressure to sanitize. Refuse the pressure to stay neutral. In the face of genocide, neutrality is complicity. If your liberation practice does not include Palestine, it is incomplete.A Propaganda Crisis, TooThese companies aren’t just selling tools of war—they’re shaping narratives. They sponsor art exhibitions, climate conferences, design summits. They greenwash occupation and brand apartheid as “security innovation.”The most dangerous lie today is that “sustainability” can coexist with genocide. It can’t.No climate justice without Palestinian liberation. No sustainable future while apartheid is profitable.So What Can We Do?DivestCampaign for your workplace, university, or city to divest from the companies named in the report. Check your retirement funds. Audit your donors. Pull the receipts.ExposeIf your favorite brand or cultural institution is collaborating with Amazon, Palantir, or Caterpillar—say something. Publicly. Email them. Call it what it is: complicity.Cut the Narrative LoopRefuse to use language that normalizes occupation: “conflict,” “both sides,” “retaliation.” This is genocide.Build AlternativesSupport community-owned energy, Palestinian agricultural cooperatives, and local solidarity economies. Join land back and degrowth movements—they are connected.Organize for PolicyPush for legislation that bans military trade with apartheid regimes and prohibits companies from profiting off human rights abuses.Tell the Truth, ConsistentlyUse your platform to amplify the names, the facts, the systems. Share this report. Write your own version. Make the invisible visible.The Link Between Genocide and Climate HarmWe can’t talk about genocide without talking about resource theft, land colonization, and environmental destruction. The same weapons being used to bomb hospitals and schools in Gaza are being manufactured by companies who also profit from climate collapse—polluting ecosystems, propping up fossil fuel economies, and creating the conditions for displacement that militarized borders are then built to contain.We must hold the line. Genocide is not inevitable—it is designed. And anything that is designed can be dismantled. If we want to build a just, livable future, we must start by divesting from the machinery of death—and investing in life.Let this be the beginning."
}
,
{
"title" : "What Trump’s “Big Beautiful Bill” Really Means",
"author" : "EIP Editors",
"category" : "essays",
"tags" : "",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/what-trumps-big-beautiful-bill-really-means",
"date" : "2025-07-02 11:21:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/EIP_bbb-00eaee.jpg",
"excerpt" : "Let’s be honest: the “One Big Beautiful Bill” isn’t beautiful at all. It’s dangerous. It’s a massive attack on our rights, our environment, and our ability to live with dignity—no matter how they try to sell it to us, we all know it’s bad.",
"content" : "Let’s be honest: the “One Big Beautiful Bill” isn’t beautiful at all. It’s dangerous. It’s a massive attack on our rights, our environment, and our ability to live with dignity—no matter how they try to sell it to us, we all know it’s bad.This is the kind of policy that sounds good on cable news, but when you look closely, it’s a disaster for people and the planet. So let’s break it down, plain and simple.What Is It?Trump’s “Big Beautiful Bill” (yes, that’s really what it’s called) is a sweeping package of tax cuts, spending shifts, and policy changes that would: Cut taxes for the rich by over $1.5 trillion over 10 years1, with nearly half of the benefits flowing to the top 1%2. Slash social services like Medicaid and food assistance—proposing $2 trillion in cuts over the decade3, including: $900 billion from Medicaid and the Affordable Care Act3 $200 billion from SNAP (food stamps)3 $25 billion from Supplemental Security Income for disabled people3 Give more money to ICE and the military—$800 billion in new military spending4, and $25 billion for expanded ICE operations, border walls, and detention centers5. Roll back climate protections and expand fossil fuels—$100 billion in subsidies and tax breaks for oil, gas, and coal companies6. Criminalize poverty and deepen surveillance of immigrants.It’s one big gift to billionaires and fossil fuel CEOs—and one big punishment for everyone else.How Does It Hurt People? More people will lose healthcare. The bill adds new “work requirements” to Medicaid, meaning if you’re not working enough hours (or can’t prove you are), you could lose your coverage. Up to 10 million people7—many of them women, disabled folks, and people of color—could be pushed out of the system. Food assistance is being cut. Adults aged 55 to 64 would lose access to SNAP (food stamps) if they don’t meet new restrictions. This hits low-income people who are already struggling—especially elders. Family separation and deportation will increase. The bill pours $25 billion into ICE, deportation forces, and border militarization5. It turns migration into a crime, rather than a response to global injustice, climate collapse, or colonial borders. Electricity costs will go up. By rolling back clean energy incentives and increasing reliance on fossil fuels, the bill is projected to raise electricity prices for U.S. households by up to 15% over the next decade8. This especially burdens low-income families and seniors living on fixed incomes. What About the Climate?This bill is a disaster for the planet: It cuts support for solar, wind, EVs, and home energy upgrades—slashing $80 billion in incentives9 over the decade. It opens up public lands for more oil and gas drilling—projected to generate $100 billion in giveaways and lease sales to fossil fuel companies6. It silences climate monitoring—especially in schools and marginalized communities.It’s not just a step backwards. It’s a full sprint toward climate collapse.Who Wins? Who Loses?Winners: Oil companies, who will receive $100 billion in new subsidies and tax breaks6 Weapons manufacturers and defense contractors Landlords and billionaires, reaping hundreds of billions in tax cuts1 Private healthcare and prison contractors benefiting from societal painLosers: Working families, who will see $2 trillion in cuts to basic services3 Climate organizers Disabled folks, elders, undocumented communities The Global South The Earth itselfThe Bigger PictureThis bill is not about economics. It’s about power. It’s about reshaping the country so that rich people have fewer obligations and more control—while everyone else has fewer rights and more surveillance.It’s designed to distract, divide, and destroy. And let’s be clear: this is part of a global pattern. From Gaza to the U.S.-Mexico border, from Lebanon to Louisiana, we are watching the violent expansion of authoritarian policies masked as “law and order” or “economic growth.” These are tools of white supremacy and colonial capitalism. And they are killing us.What Can We Do?This is a fight we can win—but only if we organize, locally and globally. Here’s how: Educate your community. Break down this bill in simple terms. Talk about who benefits and who suffers. Share this piece. Host teach-ins. Pressure lawmakers. Call your reps. Tell them to reject this bill and any cuts to Medicaid, SNAP, climate protections, or immigrant rights. Build alternatives. Support mutual aid, public power campaigns, climate justice organizations, and local cooperatives. Design what could be. Tell the story. The people in power want us to believe this is normal. It’s not. Speak truth. Use your platform. Name what’s happening. Center care, not capital.This bill is a blueprint for an empire in decline. But we don’t have to go down with it. We can write a different story—one rooted in solidarity, in justice, and in collective imagination.This is not the end. This is a beginning. If we want a future, we’ll have to design it together. Tax Policy Center, Distributional Analysis of the Tax Cuts and Jobs Act, 2017–2027 (link) ↩ ↩2 Congressional Budget Office, The Distribution of Major Tax Provisions in the Tax Cuts and Jobs Act, 2018 (link) ↩ Center on Budget and Policy Priorities, Trump’s Budget Cuts Would Cause Severe Hardship for Millions, 2020 (link) ↩ ↩2 ↩3 ↩4 ↩5 Congressional Budget Office, Analysis of the 2020 Defense Budget, 2019 (link) ↩ Migration Policy Institute, Funding for Immigration Enforcement and Border Security, 2018–2020 (link) ↩ ↩2 Friends of the Earth & Oil Change International, Fossil Fuel Subsidies in Trump’s Budget, 2019 (link) ↩ ↩2 ↩3 Kaiser Family Foundation, Estimated Medicaid Coverage Losses Under Work Requirements, 2019 (link) ↩ Energy Innovation Policy & Technology LLC, Analysis of Proposed Rollback of Clean Energy Incentives and Consumer Energy Costs, 2020 (link) ↩ Congressional Research Service, Energy Tax Policy and the Tax Cuts and Jobs Act, 2019 (link) ↩ "
}
]
}