Being Politically Homeless
It’s election season, and everywhere I look, the two major parties are waging their own war of words.
For me, this time of year brings up a real sense of isolation. My political beliefs don’t align with most of my friends and family, and I don't believe in the two-party system, so I often feel politically homeless. People often misunderstand my perspective, and I realize it’s probably because I struggle to communicate it effectively. I get very passionate about these topics and, honestly, sometimes come off as morally superior—which is, admittedly, off-putting in conversation. So, I’ve decided to blog about it, because I need to get it out, and I want to understand for myself why I’m such an outsider in today’s political landscape. Let’s start with my top reason for not supporting either major party: War.
The United States sells 42% of the world’s weapons. There isn’t even a close second—Russia is next with only 11%, and the numbers drop sharply from there. These weapons are used to fuel massive conflicts, genocides, ethnic cleansing, and cartel violence. Destruction on this scale displaces entire populations, cripples infrastructure, and contaminates food and water supplies. Conflict is the leading cause of humanitarian crises on the planet.
Take, for example, the ongoing war between Russia and Ukraine, which is now entering its third year. The U.S. has provided $64.1 billion in military aid, but this “aid” doesn’t reach the Ukrainian people directly; it comes in the form of helicopters, missiles, small arms, and body armor—all designed for one purpose: to eliminate human life. The result? Declining populations in both countries, falling birth rates, and over a million dead or wounded. This is only one of the many conflicts that the U.S. supports, directly or indirectly, worldwide. Still think it’s worth the investment? Wait a second, that’s just the human toll.
"War is a racket. It always has been. It is possibly the oldest, easily the most profitable, surely the most vicious. It is the only one in which the profits are reckoned in dollars and the losses in lives."
— Major General Smedley D. Butler, USMC
There’s an environmental cost as well. Bombs don’t just destroy cities; they wreck ecosystems, deplete resources, and devastate wildlife. This damage isn’t isolated—it affects all of us on this planet. War pollutes, leaving behind undetonated ordnance, hazardous chemicals, and depleted uranium seeping into soil and water. Globally, military activity is responsible for 5.5% of greenhouse gas emissions—if militaries were a country, they’d be the fourth largest emitter. Waste piles up in war zones, with garbage littering the streets, and forests, homes, and rivers all destroyed. Every war is, in essence, an environmental disaster.
Even though these conflicts tend to happen far away from the American public we also pay a price. Violence is mythologized and essential to American identity, war is a celebrated fixture of national life rather than a devastating last resort. This idolization serves the interests of the military-industrial complex, but it ignores how war erodes the humanity of those involved and the very democracy it’s said to protect.
War creates profound scars on those who serve, leaving them with a knowledge that most of us never face: the brutal reality of conflict. For veterans, returning home often means entering a society that celebrates war as noble and heroic, while they are left to carry the weight of the horrors they witnessed and participated in. Many have endured the gut-wrenching conflict between their training and their humanity—shaped to make life-and-death decisions and, in the process, to detach from the value of each life. The complexity of these experiences is largely invisible to us, who honor veterans in ways that can feel superficial, casting them as heroes without ever acknowledging the trauma that war imprints on them. Because to acknowledge the trauma is to redefine how we perceive war.
War is death. War is destruction. War is pollution. War is mass trauma. War is big business. Out of every dollar paid in taxes, a quarter of it goes to the military—yet only four cents reaches our troops directly. America spends $820 billion a year on national defense, with projections of $1.1 trillion by 2033. For all their perceived differences, both parties agree on one thing: the war machine must keep running. This bipartisan unity in feeding the military-industrial complex comes at a profound cost.
Imagine what even a fraction of that money could accomplish if we directed it toward education, infrastructure, healthcare, or clean energy. What if, as a society, we prioritized peace, prosperity, and health over profit and destruction? But change requires honesty—an acceptance that our national identity, as it stands, is inextricably tied to war. To reshape it means dismantling the myth of war’s necessity and embracing values that build rather than destroy. Until then, I remain politically homeless, unable to find a place within parties that continue to support this legacy of violence over life.
