ON January 7, 2026, President Donald Trump posted on social media that the Pentagon budget would rise to $1.5 trillion, a 50 per cent increase over current spending and the largest peacetime military buildup since World War II. The announcement came barely four days after the United States abducted Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro in a military raid on Caracas, killing over one hundred people, including thirty-two Cuban security officers. During the same week, Russia fired its hypersonic Oreshnik missile into western Ukraine, close to NATO borders, in response to the Ukrainian drone strike on Russian President Vladimir Putin’s residence in Novgorod. The juxtaposition is revealing: an empire spending more than ever on military hardware, yet watching its technological monopoly erode, and its strategic rivals demonstrate capabilities it cannot match.

It is worth stating at the outset that the proposed budget expansion is not a sign of strength. It is a symptom of crisis. The United States military-industrial complex confronts a contradiction it cannot resolve through spending alone: its supply chains depend on China, its industrial base has hollowed out, and its technological lead is slipping across multiple domains. The $1.5 trillion figure is not a strategy; it is panic dressed in uniform.

THE INDUSTRIAL BASE THAT ISN'T

In July 2024, the bipartisan Commission on the National Defence Strategy issued a stark assessment. The United States was last prepared for a peer conflict during the Cold War, which ended 35 years ago. It is not prepared today.

A July 2025 Government Accountability Office report to Congress found that Lockheed Martin had discovered prohibited Chinese magnets in the F-35 supply chain, forcing production to halt for several months. Of ninety-nine materials identified by the Department of Defence as being in critical shortfall, not one was produced domestically. The GAO concluded that the Pentagon's supply chain visibility efforts "are uncoordinated and provide little insight into the vast majority of suppliers."

Semiconductors illustrate the depth of the problem. US Navy F/A-18E/F combat aircraft contain approximately 5,000 Chinese semiconductors. Arleigh Burke-class destroyers have nearly 6,000. The B-2 bomber, Ohio-class submarines, Tomahawk cruise missiles, Patriot air defence systems, and precision-guided munitions all depend on Chinese-sourced chips. Washington has spent years attempting to deny China advanced semiconductors while its own weapons systems remain dependent on Chinese production.

Rare earths deepen the contradiction. China controls roughly 70 per cent of global rare earth mining and 90 per cent of processing capacity. Each F-35 fighter jet requires 417 kilograms of rare earth elements. Virginia-class submarines require 4.2 tonnes. When Beijing retaliated against the US “50 per cent Affiliates Rule” by imposing export controls on rare earths in October 2025, the US capitulated within three weeks. Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent suspended the rule in exchange for China suspending its rare earth restrictions.

Shipbuilding tells the same story. Chinese yards now account for 70 per cent of global ship output by tonnage, outproducing the United States by more than 200 times. The US has only one foundry capable of producing large titanium castings required for key weapons systems, including submarines. The Navy struggles to maintain 290 vessels while China builds rapidly toward 350 navy ships and beyond.

Munitions production is even more revealing. Ukraine has demonstrated that modern warfare consumes artillery shells at rates exceeding 100,000 per month. US production capacity reached only 14,000 per month by late 2024 and, despite emergency measures, remains far below wartime requirements. In a conflict with China, US planners estimate it would exhaust its munitions inventories in as few as three to four weeks, with anti-ship missiles lasting only days.

CLOSING WINDOW PSYCHOLOGY

This industrial weakness produces what analysts call "closing window" psychology among US strategic planners. The logic is simple: if the balance of power is shifting against the US, action must be taken now, before the window closes entirely. This psychology explains not only the $1.5 trillion budget proposal, but the broader pattern of military adventurism that has characterised the second Trump administration.

The kidnapping of Venezuela's president was not an isolated rogue operation.  It followed months of escalation, including naval and air attacks in the Caribbean that killed more than 115 people. The Caracas raid involved Delta Force units, over 150 aircraft, and naval assets positioned offshore. Trump declared that the United States would “run” Venezuela until a transition occurred.

The pattern extends beyond Venezuela. In June 2025, the Trump administration struck Iranian nuclear facilities. Since then, Trump has renewed open threats to bomb Iran, while B-52 bombers and KC-135R refuelling aircraft are deployed closer to its borders. Threats against Greenland, a territory of NATO ally Denmark, have escalated to the point where Trump refused to rule out military action. The administration has signalled willingness to use force against Mexico and Colombia under the banner of the drug war. Each target is chosen for its vulnerability: small enough to attack without risking major retaliation.

This is the logic of a declining empire: unable to confront the primary challengers directly, it demonstrates power against secondary targets, hoping to isolate and intimidate the main rivals. The seizure of Maduro was intended as a message to the world as much as to Caracas.

THE ORESHNIK RESPONSE

Yet even this indirect strategy faces limits. On January 9, 2026, Russia fired its Oreshnik hypersonic intermediate-range ballistic missile at western Ukraine, striking near the Polish border in the second use of the weapon. The missile travels at speeds exceeding Mach 10, roughly 13,000 kilometres per hour, and carries multiple independently-targetable warheads. Western analysts acknowledge it is impossible to intercept with current air defence systems.

The strike was explicit political messaging. Former Russian President Dmitry Medvedev compared the strike to "an anti-psychotic drug badly needed in a world dominated by unhinged actors" and railed against the "abduction" of Maduro.

The contradiction is stark. While the United States pours unprecedented sums into military hardware and seizes the leaders of small countries, it cannot match Chinese industrial capacity and remains dependent on Chinese supply chains. It cannot intercept Russian hypersonic missiles. Its response is to spend more money and attack smaller countries, actions that demonstrate neither strength nor strategy but desperation.

TWO MODELS OF MILITARY POWER

The contrast between US and Chinese approaches to military-industrial development illuminates the structural crisis. China's model rests on complete supply chains, from raw materials through manufacturing to final assembly. This integration allows rapid production scaling, continuous cost reduction, and the ability to sustain high-intensity conflict.

The United States, by contrast, has financialised even its military-industrial base. In 1993's "Last Supper," Pentagon officials urged consolidation. Fifty-one prime contractors became five dominant firms controlling 74 per cent of programs. Consolidation eliminated competition, creating sole-source dependencies. Nearly one-third of vendors are "sole eligible suppliers." Defence contractors return billions to shareholders while production timelines stretch and deliveries arrive late.

More than half of Pentagon spending flows directly to contractors. Tens of billions are lost annually to waste, fraud, and abuse. Programmes such as the dysfunctional F-35, the highly vulnerable $13-billion aircraft carriers, the fantasy of a leak-proof “Golden Dome” missile shield, and plans to spend up to $2 trillion on new nuclear weapons over two decades exemplify the rot. Oversight is being weakened. Independent weapons testing is being curtailed. The result is a system designed to burn money, not produce security.

DEBT, DESTRUCTION, AND THE COST TO PEOPLE

The $1.5 trillion budget proposal would add $5.8 trillion to the national debt over the next decade. Even at its current level, US military spending already exceeds the combined expenditure of the next nine countries. The 50 per cent increase would make the US more indebted, not more powerful.

The impact on working people will be severe. Military spending diverts resources from healthcare, education, and infrastructure. The debt burden will constrain future fiscal options. The military adventures such spending enables will kill people in Venezuela, Iran, and wherever else the empire chooses to demonstrate its declining power.

THE LOGIC OF IMPERIAL CRISIS

The $1.5 trillion Pentagon budget is not a strategy for security. It is a verdict on a system that can no longer reproduce the conditions of its own dominance.  Such crises follow a familiar imperial trajectory. Declining powers do not adapt peacefully. They lash out, seeking to impose by force what they can no longer sustain economically.

The people of Venezuela have already paid the price. Others will follow unless this logic is confronted. The danger is not merely regional war. RAND Corporation assessments continue to warn that escalation between nuclear-armed powers remains “always a plausible scenario,” threatening human civilisation itself.