Although the post-9/11 era has been marked by scholarly angst about what many view as a distinct deterioration in civil-military relations, a review of the evidence suggests that civil-military relations during this period have been complex and sometimes contradictory, rather than unidirectional. But a narrow or formalistic focus on civil-military relations obscures the risks to democracy that stem not from the military but from newer means of coercion that have been enabled by recent technological changes. Concern over civil-military relations and civilian control of the military rests on the presumption that because it possesses the tools of large-scale physical violence, the military is the primary institution capable of subverting democracy through the exercise of raw power. If this was ever true, it is no longer the case today, as recent events have demonstrated.

Military spending, often a significant portion of federal budgets, can either increase or decrease inequality. It can decrease inequality by creating jobs and opportunities for advancement, or it can increase inequality by disproportionately benefiting the already well-off segments of society by diverting resources away from programs that help the less wealthy. This essay reviews various studies-covering a range of countries and time periods-that examine the “inequality-widening,” “inequality-narrowing,” and mixed effects of military spending. Overall, the preponderance of evidence supports the theory that increased military spending leads to greater inequality.

Enduring military mobilization in peacetime and long periods of war may not only weaken elements of democratic accountability and institutions, the checks and balances associated with both young and mature democratic systems, but more insidiously, over time, war may undermine the culture and values that support democratic institutions and processes. Democracies depend not only on these institutional arrangements and processes; they are moored in, motivated, and lubricated by a constellation of normative beliefs, values, capacities, and feelings: namely, empathyand respect for others, the willingness to hear and be persuaded by other's views, willingness of the minority to cede to the majority so long as their rights are protected, and, perhaps most important, the promise that force is taken off the table because might does not make right. When war is sparked by fear, and the mobilization that sustains war amplifies fear, war and high levels of military mobilization in peacetime can undermine the manners and norms-civil discourse, participation, trust, empathy, and tolerance-that are prerequisites and characteristic of democracy.

Most experts maintain that oversight, including ex post oversight, is critical to ensure that government actions are transparent and accountable to its citizens. But despite a global push for greater transparency in government, the level of transparency over national security and public spending in many countries is limited. This essay shows that since 9/11, the conduct of the United States in the wars in Afghanistan, Iraq, and the wider region has diminished oversight over military spending by funding operations with “emergency ” appropriations and other special budgetary vehicles, financing with debt, concealing expenses through poor accounting, and integrating the private sector into core military activities. This combination of policies, which I term the Ghost Budget, has resulted in less accountability for war spending, lower civic engagement, greater corruption, higher total expenditures, and prolonged conflicts.

The process of American democratization and de-democratization has often involved organized violence, whether perpetrated by the federal government, against the government, or with the government on the sidelines. But we know little about the relationship between the state's war-making capacity and the prospects for democracy's advances and retreats over the course of American history. In this essay, I first briefly describe the long-run path of democracy in the United States and identify some of the key threats that have periodically undermined the prospects for successful and durable democratization. I then survey some of the entangled history of state violence and democratization in the United States and suggest how the U.S. government's military capacity has often tended to inflame threats to democracy and undermine critical pillars of democratic governance. The main exceptions to this pattern have come during the two Reconstructions, when federal military force was deployed as an instrument of democratization.

Synthesizing public opinion data and existing scholarship, this essay traces four legacies in U.S. public opinion left by two decades of wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. First, short-term boosts in public support and deference to executive authority at the beginning of each war created a permissive environment for institutional changes not easily reversed. Second, growing public skepticism toward these wars did not undermine support for broader internationalist policies. Third, public support for humanitarian action remained resilient. Fourth, the wars increased the gap between public confidence in the military and in elected officials, creating challenges for democratic civil-military relations. Together, the legacies demonstrate that the challenge for American democracy moving forward is not public opinion in and of itself, but how elites strategically misuse or bypass public consent.

Some decades following U.S. President Dwight D. Eisenhower's 1961 reference to a military-industrial complex (MIC), its cognate, the prison-industrial complex (PIC), became foundational language for understanding mass incarceration in the United States. To date, scholars have generally treated the MIC and PIC as analogous but separate structures. We argue, by contrast, that they have important interdependencies. For one, there are linkages that take the form of “seeding,” through which the military and the prison each transmit resources, practices, and personnel crossinstitutionally. For another, there is a “mimetic” relationship in which both institutions develop processes and practices in parallel, with each likely gaining legitimacy from comparable developments in the adjoining institution. These cross-pollinating and mimetic connections, sometimes inflected by and reproducing racial inequalities, accentuate troubling nondemocratic practices within both military and carceral institutions.

How will we think about the past in the future? The central question for this Dædalus issue asks artists and scholars to speculate about what aspects of our present historical moment will enrapture, haunt, and/or plague thinkers in the future. The contributors-scientists, social scientists, humanists, and artists-conjure up the methodologies, theories, and scholarly and artistic practices we will need not only to rectify current harms, but also to usher in more equitable futures.