Empire’s Digital Panic: China, Xinjiang, and the War Over Who Controls the Future

The Associated Press investigation exposes how Silicon Valley helped build the very surveillance architectures the West now condemns in China, while quietly shielding the broader imperial system that produced them. Beneath the rhetoric of “digital authoritarianism” lies a deeper geopolitical struggle over sovereignty, technological development, and the collapse of Western monopoly over modernity itself. China’s governance of Xinjiang emerges not from cartoon tyranny but from a socialist-oriented state confronting separatism, instability, and the long historical record of imperial destabilization campaigns against rival nations. As the U.S. ruling class fuses Big Tech, finance capital, intelligence agencies, and militarized policing into an expanding technofascist order, resistance is growing against the New Cold War, corporate surveillance power, and the empire’s attempt to monopolize humanity’s future.

By Prince Kapone | Weaponized Information | May 6, 2026

The Digital Cage and the Liberal Mirror

The Associated Press investigation, “How the AP uncovered US big tech’s role in China’s digital police state”, along with its companion report, “Detailed findings from AP investigation into how US tech firms enabled China’s digital police state,” is built around a powerful empirical revelation: U.S. technology corporations played a far greater role than previously known in helping construct the technical infrastructure of Chinese policing, surveillance, and intelligence analysis. Written by Dake Kang, with Yael Grauer co-authoring the detailed findings report, the investigation draws from leaked emails, databases, classified documents, procurement records, marketing material, and interviews to show that companies such as IBM and other Western technology firms sold, designed, adapted, or enabled systems later used by Chinese security institutions. On the surface, this is an exposé of corporate complicity. Beneath the surface, it is something more contradictory: a liberal-imperial investigation that exposes part of the machine while still protecting the deeper worldview that produced it.

The Associated Press occupies a particular place in the imperial information order. It is not a tabloid shop throwing red meat to the mob, nor a crude state outlet barking orders from the palace balcony. It is a major Western news institution, wrapped in the language of neutrality, verification, and public service. That is precisely what gives its framing power. AP can publish serious investigative work, reveal corporate misconduct, and still reproduce the assumptions of the Atlantic world as common sense. Its institutional location allows it to say, “Look what these corporations did,” while leaving largely untouched the broader system that made those corporations, their technologies, and their markets possible. It can name IBM, Dell, Microsoft, Intel, Nvidia, and others, but it cannot fully name the civilization that raised them.

The authors bring real reporting strength to the work. Kang has reported extensively on Chinese politics, technology, and society from Beijing, while Grauer’s background in investigative tech journalism adds technical depth to the corporate and surveillance dimensions of the story. Their work is not lazy. It is not empty propaganda scribbled by some think-tank intern wearing a flag pin and a vacant expression. The investigation is detailed, document-driven, and journalistically serious. That is exactly why it must be excavated carefully. The problem is not that the reporting contains no truth. The problem is that truth is arranged inside a frame already polished for the New Cold War.

The central narrative device is framing. China is presented as the great object of dread: the “digital police state,” the “digital cage,” the vast machine of surveillance. These phrases are not innocent. They do not merely describe; they discipline the reader’s imagination. Before the reader can ask what social function these technologies serve, who built them, where their logic originated, or how different state systems deploy them, the moral atmosphere has already been thickened. China appears as the dark laboratory of technological repression, while the Western corporate authors of that laboratory stand nearby in wrinkled suits, insisting they had no idea the tools they sold to police might be used by police. Capitalism, that innocent lamb, has wandered again into history covered in blood and asking who spilled the paint.

The second device is card stacking. The investigation provides extensive detail on Chinese surveillance practices and U.S. corporate involvement, but gives far less structural attention to the U.S. surveillance state itself: its warrantless spying, predictive policing, biometric border systems, fusion centers, counterinsurgency databases, and corporate-state data markets. This omission matters because it allows the reader to imagine Chinese surveillance as a civilizational abnormality rather than one expression of a broader global technological order. The AP does expose U.S. corporate complicity, but it does not fully follow the trail back into the belly of the beast. It shows the exported machinery, but not the domestic factory of repression from which the machinery emerged.

The investigation also relies heavily on appeal to authority. Leaked documents, procurement records, outside experts, internal emails, classified files, and corporate responses create a thick architecture of credibility. This gives the reporting weight, and much of that weight is deserved. But authority is not the same as political clarity. A document can be authentic and still be interpreted inside a misleading framework. A procurement record can show what was bought without explaining the historical logic of why it was bought. A corporate denial can reveal hypocrisy without revealing the class system that made such hypocrisy profitable.

Fear is another organizing device. The imagery of cameras, databases, predictive policing, ethnic targeting, and “preemptive” security measures produces an atmosphere of technological horror. Yet fear here is politically selective. When the U.S. builds systems to monitor migrants, Black radicals, antiwar activists, workers, Muslims, journalists, and dissidents, the language becomes “national security,” “law enforcement,” or “public safety.” When China develops systems to manage separatism, terrorism, social instability, and territorial cohesion, the language becomes “digital cage.” The same machine changes moral color depending on whose flag hangs above the server room.

This is the deepest contradiction in the AP package. Its evidence points toward a devastating indictment of U.S. Big Tech, but its frame keeps pulling the reader back toward a familiar morality play: China as authoritarian menace, the West as troubled but redeemable bystander. The result is an investigation that opens a door and then hesitates at the threshold. It lets us see that Silicon Valley helped build the architecture it now condemns. But it does not yet allow us to ask the more dangerous question: what if the real scandal is not that U.S. technology entered China’s security system, but that the modern surveillance form itself was born from the marriage of monopoly capital, state power, imperial war, and the management of populations treated as problems to be controlled rather than people to be served?

The Frontier, the Firewall, and the Forgotten Context

The Associated Press investigation presents Xinjiang primarily as the site of an immense surveillance apparatus, but it leaves largely unexplored the broader historical, geopolitical, developmental, and ideological terrain through which Chinese policy toward the region actually emerged. Missing from the AP frame is the simple but decisive fact that the Chinese state does not understand Xinjiang primarily as a “human-rights problem.” It understands Xinjiang as a sovereignty question, a territorial-integrity question, a developmental question, and a national-security question bound up with the long historical memory of fragmentation, foreign intervention, separatist violence, and imperial destabilization. Chinese state white papers consistently define Xinjiang governance through the language of anti-separatism, anti-extremism, poverty alleviation, employment expansion, modernization, and social stability rather than racial supremacy or colonial extraction. In the Western press, this framing is often dismissed as propaganda before it is even seriously examined. Yet when Washington speaks endlessly about “national security,” “counterterrorism,” or “protecting democracy,” the same press somehow discovers nuance, complexity, and historical context like a priest discovering religion at tax season.

Xinjiang has experienced prolonged instability, extremist attacks, separatist violence, and social fragmentation before the present security architecture took shape. In this context, the expansion of surveillance, policing, and counter-extremism systems are a response to real threats of terrorism, social breakdown, and externally amplified separatism. One does not have to romanticize every Chinese policy to recognize that states do not generally spend enormous sums building security systems because they woke up one morning possessed by cartoon villainy. States act according to perceived historical pressures, material interests, and strategic vulnerabilities. The AP package largely strips Xinjiang from this wider field of contradiction and instead presents surveillance as if it emerged from Chinese cultural pathology itself — a sort of ancient Oriental instinct updated with fiber optics and machine learning.

What the AP investigation also leaves underdeveloped is the extent to which Xinjiang has become institutionalized inside the machinery of U.S.-China geopolitical confrontation. Over the past decade, Washington constructed sanctions regimes, congressional caucuses, forced-labor legislation, NGO advocacy networks, diplomatic campaigns, and trade restrictions specifically centered on Xinjiang and Uyghur policy. The Uyghur issue did not merely “emerge” naturally inside Western political discourse like dew on the morning grass. It was operationalized, institutionalized, funded, legislated, and integrated into the broader architecture of strategic competition with China. This does not mean every concern raised about Xinjiang is fabricated. It means the issue functions simultaneously as a human-rights discourse and as an instrument of geopolitical pressure within the broader New Cold War against China.

Strategic-security institutions tied to US policy circles have long treated Xinjiang as a critical Chinese vulnerability and geopolitical frontier. Discussions of ethnic tensions, Islamist militancy, separatism, border instability, and internal fragmentation appear repeatedly throughout Western strategic analysis of China. Chinese policymakers are not blind to this history. They have watched the United States and its allies repeatedly exploit internal contradictions inside rival states: Afghanistan during the Cold War, Yugoslavia during the post-Soviet transition, Libya after NATO intervention, Syria during the proxy-war period, and numerous post-Soviet fragmentation conflicts. In each case, ethnic, sectarian, regional, or ideological fractures became entry points for destabilization, sanctions, regime-change pressure, proxy warfare, or political disintegration. Beijing increasingly interprets Xinjiang through this broader anti-fragmentation lens. The Chinese state sees not simply a restive province, but a strategic frontier vulnerable to the same imperial methods previously deployed elsewhere.

The strategic significance of Xinjiang extends far beyond domestic governance. Xinjiang is indispensable to Belt and Road integration, Eurasian logistics, westward industrial development, and continental trade connectivity. The region functions simultaneously as an energy corridor, transportation hub, security frontier, and geopolitical hinge linking China to Central Asia, Russia, West Asia, and Europe. In other words, Xinjiang is not merely a peripheral territory in Chinese strategic thinking. It is one of the principal gateways through which China seeks to anchor long-term Eurasian integration and reduce vulnerability to maritime containment by U.S. naval power. A destabilized Xinjiang would therefore threaten not only internal cohesion, but broader Chinese developmental and geopolitical strategy.

The AP framework also obscures the extent to which Chinese political legitimacy is rooted materially in developmental performance, to concrete steps toward poverty reduction, modernization, infrastructure expansion, rising living standards, employment, and social stability. This differs fundamentally from the increasingly hollow liberal-democratic legitimacy structures dominant across much of the Atlantic world, where elections continue like ritual theater long after economic sovereignty has migrated into the hands of finance capital, multinational corporations, intelligence agencies, and unelected technocratic institutions. The Chinese state, whatever its contradictions, still derives enormous legitimacy from its ability to materially transform society. Hundreds of millions lifted from poverty are not an abstraction. Bullet trains are not abstractions. Electrification, industrialization, logistics infrastructure, and technological expansion are not abstractions. A peasant with running water and stable employment tends to evaluate the state somewhat differently than a think-tank fellow sipping wine in Washington while drafting another paper about “authoritarianism.”

Meanwhile, the AP investigation says remarkably little about the class character of the U.S. surveillance state itself. The United States continues expanding Section 702 surveillance powers that enable massive metadata collection, intelligence fusion, digital monitoring, and domestic querying systems repeatedly criticized by civil-liberties organizations and even sections of Congress. These surveillance systems do not exist in a vacuum. They emerge within a broader domestic architecture of militarized policing, border enforcement, predictive analytics, corporate-state data integration, and digital counterinsurgency. The same political class that lectures the world about freedom deploys facial recognition at protests, builds migrant surveillance databases, spies on journalists, criminalizes dissent, militarizes police departments, and integrates Silicon Valley directly into intelligence and military infrastructure. Apparently liberty now requires a very large server farm.

The expansion of predictive surveillance, metadata fusion, preventative policing, and algorithmic monitoring did not begin in China. These systems developed globally through the post-9/11 War on Terror, where mass surveillance became normalized under the language of counterterrorism and public safety. Entire populations across the Middle East, South Asia, North Africa, and the West itself became laboratories for biometric governance, digital monitoring, and predictive security systems. China did not invent this logic in isolation. It inherited a world already reorganized around data extraction, behavioral prediction, and technologically mediated security governance.

At the same time, the AP framing treats Chinese technological development itself as faintly sinister, as though semiconductors assembled under a red flag become morally suspicious at the molecular level. China’s “whole-of-nation” innovation system emphasized state-led planning, public investment, engineering education, coordinated industrial policy, and technological sovereignty as central to China’s rapid development in AI, robotics, telecommunications, and advanced manufacturing. This is not simply a private-market phenomenon. It is developmental coordination on a civilizational scale. And that is precisely what increasingly terrifies the Atlantic ruling class. The greatest fear inside Washington is not that China has cameras. Washington has cameras everywhere. The greatest fear is that China has demonstrated the possibility of technologically advanced modernization outside direct Western capitalist control.

U.S. sanctions, semiconductor restrictions, export controls, and technological containment policies have only accelerated China’s drive toward independent AI systems, sovereign chip production, domestic cloud infrastructure, and autonomous technological ecosystems. The old globalization bargain assumed China would remain integrated into a Western-dominated hierarchy indefinitely: manufacture the products, absorb the investment, buy the debt, but never challenge the commanding heights of technology itself. Instead, the very globalization regime designed to preserve Atlantic supremacy helped create a technologically sovereign rival increasingly capable of contesting Western monopoly over AI, semiconductors, telecommunications, industrial production, and digital infrastructure.

This is the larger context the AP investigation cannot fully confront because it destabilizes the moral simplicity of the narrative. The deeper contradiction is not merely surveillance. It is the emergence of competing state forms and developmental systems under conditions of imperial decline and multipolar transition. One model increasingly governs through financialization, sanctions, militarized management, and social decomposition. The other pursues state-directed modernization, infrastructural integration, industrial coordination, and technological sovereignty under a socialist-oriented framework shaped by its own historical contradictions and strategic anxieties. The struggle unfolding around Xinjiang therefore cannot be reduced to a simple morality play about “authoritarian technology.” It is inseparable from the wider geopolitical battle over who will shape the future architecture of global development, sovereignty, technology, and power itself.

The Empire Built the Machine — Now It Fears Who Controls It

The Associated Press investigation thinks it is telling us a story about China’s surveillance state. What it actually reveals is something much bigger and far more dangerous for the Atlantic ruling class: the collapse of the old imperial monopoly over technology, development, and history itself. Beneath all the dramatic language about “digital cages” and authoritarianism sits a contradiction so large the article cannot fully contain it. The very corporations that helped build the architecture of modern surveillance — IBM, Dell, Intel, Nvidia, Microsoft, Oracle, Motorola, and the rest of Silicon Valley’s smiling carnival of data merchants — are products of the same imperial system now trying to convince the world that China alone represents the future of technological repression.

The problem for the AP narrative is that history has a nasty habit of leaving fingerprints everywhere. Predictive policing, metadata fusion, biometric monitoring, algorithmic targeting, integrated intelligence systems — none of this was born in a cave somewhere in western China. These technologies emerged through decades of U.S. imperial warfare, Counterinsurgency doctrine, corporate-state integration, and the global expansion of monopoly capital. The War on Terror turned entire populations across the Middle East, North Africa, and South Asia into testing grounds for digital surveillance and behavioral monitoring. Washington normalized the idea that states should vacuum up communications, movements, purchases, faces, fingerprints, social networks, and personal data in the name of “security.” Apparently when the Pentagon and NSA do it, it is freedom. When China does it to stop separatist violence and maintain social cohesion, suddenly we are supposed to clutch our pearls and faint on cue.

The AP article wants readers to believe that surveillance exists outside class power and historical context. It treats technology like some neutral floating object detached from politics. But Marxists are not children staring at machines in awe. We ask: who owns the machine, who controls it, what social system produced it, and what historical purpose does it serve? A surveillance system inside a decaying imperial empire trying to contain domestic collapse is not the same thing as technology deployed inside a socialist-oriented developmental state attempting to maintain stability, reduce poverty, modernize infrastructure, and defend sovereignty against external destabilization.

That distinction is everything. The United States today governs through social decomposition. Beneath the glossy myths about democracy lies a society collapsing under financial parasitism, deindustrialization, privatized misery, debt slavery, mass incarceration, opioid addiction, homelessness, crumbling infrastructure, and permanent war. The white ruling class no longer has a real developmental project for the masses because finance capital has cannibalized the productive foundations of society itself. Under those conditions, surveillance becomes a weapon of domestic management. The population must be watched because the empire fears its own people. It fears workers. It fears migrants. It fears Black liberation struggles. It fears antiwar movements. It fears dissent because instability now grows naturally from the contradictions of neoliberal capitalism itself.

This is Technofascism in its embryonic form: Silicon Valley fused with Wall Street, intelligence agencies, military contractors, predictive algorithms, and digital policing under conditions of Imperialist Decay. The machine watches not because the ruling class is strong, but because it is weak. It watches because it knows its social legitimacy is evaporating. It watches because it governs through coercion, spectacle, and debt rather than human-centered development.

China emerges from an entirely different historical road. The Chinese Revolution was not fought so hedge fund managers could gamble on synthetic derivatives while peasants rot under bridges. It produced a socialist state forged through anti-colonial struggle, civil war, underdevelopment, invasion, and national fragmentation. Whatever contradictions remain inside Chinese socialism — and contradictions always exist inside real historical processes — the Chinese state still derives legitimacy primarily from its ability to materially improve people’s lives. Hundreds of millions lifted out of extreme poverty. Massive infrastructure construction. Electrification. Transportation integration. Industrial modernization. Rising life expectancy. Technological advancement. Long-term planning. These are not abstractions cooked up in some NGO workshop funded by the State Department. These are concrete historical transformations visible to ordinary people.

This is why the Atlantic powers are so obsessed with Xinjiang. Not because Washington suddenly discovered deep spiritual concern for Muslim populations. The same empire screaming about Uyghur rights spent decades bombing, sanctioning, invading, destabilizing, occupying, and genociding Muslim societies from Iraq to Libya to Palestine. The U.S. ruling class did not wake up one morning possessed by humanitarian tenderness. Xinjiang became useful because it sits at the center of China’s long-term developmental and geopolitical strategy: a key Belt and Road corridor, a Eurasian logistics gateway, an energy and transportation hub linking China westward into Central Asia and beyond.

Chinese policymakers understand very clearly what imperial destabilization looks like because they have watched it happen repeatedly. They watched Yugoslavia fractured through ethnic conflict and intervention. They watched Libya destroyed under the language of human rights. They watched Syria turned into a battlefield of proxy warfare and sanctions. They watched separatism, sectarianism, information warfare, sanctions, and externally amplified instability weaponized against states targeted by the Atlantic order. Only a fool — or a liberal academic paid to misunderstand the world professionally — would expect Beijing to ignore those precedents and simply hope Xinjiang never becomes another pressure point in the New Cold War Against China.

So yes, China uses advanced technology to maintain public security, monitor extremist networks, prevent separatist violence, and preserve territorial cohesion. And frankly, any serious sovereign state confronting those conditions would do the same. The difference is that China combines these security measures with development, poverty alleviation, infrastructure, employment, modernization, and long-term integration. The Western media frame surveillance as though cameras themselves are evil. But workers and ordinary people everywhere understand something liberals conveniently forget: public safety matters. Stability matters. Social cohesion matters. A grandmother riding public transit safely home from work matters. A child not growing up amid separatist violence matters. Communities free from terrorism matter.

The deeper panic inside the AP investigation has very little to do with surveillance itself. The United States already operates one of the largest surveillance systems in human history. What terrifies the Atlantic ruling class is that China has demonstrated the possibility of Technological Sovereignty outside direct Western control. The old globalization model assumed China would remain subordinate forever: manufacture goods, absorb investment, provide labor, but never challenge the imperial core at the commanding heights of technology. Instead, China climbed the ladder. AI. Robotics. Telecommunications. Semiconductors. Advanced manufacturing. Infrastructure. Scientific research. The empire trained the workshop of the world and accidentally helped create a rival civilization-state capable of breaking the monopoly over modernity itself.

That is why sanctions escalate. That is why semiconductor restrictions intensify. That is why every Chinese technological breakthrough is immediately framed as a threat. The issue is not democracy versus authoritarianism. That is children’s television for adults. The real struggle is over who will shape the future world order: a dying unipolar empire organized around Financial Piracy, Hyper-Imperialism, and Technofascist management, or an emerging multipolar world where sovereign states pursue development, industrialization, and modernization outside Atlantic domination.

The AP investigation therefore tells a truth larger than it intends. It reveals an empire terrified that the machine it built no longer belongs exclusively to empire. And that fear — more than any camera in Xinjiang — is what truly animates the New Cold War against China.

Breaking the Machine Before It Closes Around the World

The struggle exposed by the Associated Press investigation is not simply about surveillance technology. It is about power: who controls the digital infrastructure of modern life, who owns the data generated by billions of human beings, and what political project these technologies ultimately serve. The American ruling class wants the world to fear Chinese surveillance while quietly constructing a far more expansive architecture of corporate-state control at home and across the imperial system. Silicon Valley, Wall Street, the Pentagon, intelligence agencies, data brokers, cloud monopolies, and AI corporations are increasingly fusing into a single bloc of Technofascist power whose goal is not human development, but social management under conditions of imperial decline.

That machine is already here. Workers are monitored on the job through algorithmic management systems. Migrants are tracked through biometric databases and digital border regimes. Entire populations are profiled through data extraction markets that know more about ordinary people than many families know about themselves. Police departments increasingly integrate predictive analytics, facial recognition, and AI-assisted surveillance into domestic policing. The same corporations now wringing their hands about China have spent decades building this infrastructure while profiting from war contracts, intelligence partnerships, cloud militarization, and mass data harvesting. The issue is not simply privacy. The issue is class power in the digital age.

This is why opposition to the U.S. national security state cannot be separated from opposition to the New Cold War Against China. The same ruling class escalating military encirclement abroad is expanding surveillance and ideological management at home. Cold War hysteria functions as a weapon of domestic discipline. Anyone questioning militarization, sanctions, semiconductor warfare, NATO expansion into Asia, or anti-China propaganda increasingly risks being labeled “foreign influenced,” “authoritarian aligned,” or somehow suspect by default. McCarthyism has updated itself for the algorithmic age. Instead of blacklists typed on paper, we now get digital smears, platform censorship, coordinated media framing, and intelligence-linked information warfare dressed up as “protecting democracy.”

Fortunately, resistance is already emerging. CODEPINK’s “China Is Not Our Enemy” campaign has become one of the clearest antiwar voices opposing the bipartisan push toward Cold War escalation with China. Their organizing links militarism abroad to austerity and repression at home while rejecting the demonization campaigns used to manufacture consent for confrontation. At a time when much of the Western left still stumbles nervously around China like tourists afraid of saying the wrong thing at a State Department cocktail party, organizations willing to openly oppose imperial escalation play an important political role.

Black Alliance for Peace continues building one of the strongest anti-imperialist analyses connecting domestic repression, militarized policing, AFRICOM, sanctions, NATO expansion, and the broader architecture of U.S. global domination. Their work is especially important because it understands something many liberal organizations cannot: the technologies and tactics used abroad eventually return home. Counterinsurgency developed against colonized peoples overseas always finds its way back into the imperial core. The surveillance state built to manage empire abroad inevitably turns inward against workers, migrants, Black communities, dissidents, and the poor.

The Electronic Frontier Foundation continues challenging warrantless surveillance, Section 702 spying powers, data harvesting, and corporate-state digital overreach. Their work remains essential because the fusion of corporate and state surveillance has created a system in which ordinary people are transformed into permanent data mines for profit and control. Every click, purchase, movement, communication, and relationship becomes monetized information feeding a machinery of predictive management. Capitalism has always extracted labor from workers. Now it seeks to extract life itself as data.

Inside the technology sector itself, Tech Workers Coalition has helped expose the relationship between Big Tech, military contracts, AI militarization, surveillance systems, and exploitative labor conditions. This work matters because workers inside the tech industry occupy a strategic position within the emerging digital economy. Engineers, programmers, logistics workers, data analysts, and platform laborers increasingly sit near the infrastructure of modern power itself. If organized politically, sections of this workforce could become a serious obstacle to the merger of Silicon Valley, monopoly capital, and the national security state.

Political education is equally critical. Organizations such as The People’s Forum and Qiao Collective have helped challenge anti-China propaganda and the ideological conditioning driving the New Cold War. This matters because the battle today is not fought only through sanctions, military bases, and export controls. It is also fought through Cognitive Warfare: the systematic shaping of public consciousness to ensure populations inside the imperial core identify emotionally with empire even as empire immiserates them materially. The ruling class understands very clearly that before wars are fought militarily, they must first be fought ideologically.

The task before anti-imperialists, socialists, workers, and colonized peoples is therefore larger than simply demanding “privacy rights” inside a dying liberal order. We must oppose the entire fusion of monopoly capital, Silicon Valley, the intelligence apparatus, and Militarized Imperialism that is constructing a planetary regime of digital domination. We must reject the attempt to use “human rights” rhetoric as cover for sanctions, containment, destabilization, and Cold War escalation against sovereign states pursuing independent development paths. And we must defend the principle that technology should serve human beings rather than capital accumulation, imperial management, and social control.

China’s rise has exposed a historical possibility the Atlantic ruling class desperately hoped humanity would never see again: that large-scale development, infrastructure modernization, technological advancement, and long-term planning can occur outside neoliberal orthodoxy and outside direct Western control. That is why the empire panics. Not because it fears surveillance in the abstract, but because it fears losing its monopoly over the future.

The answer to Technofascism is not surrendering technology to monopoly capital and intelligence agencies. The answer is fighting for a world where technological power is subordinated to common prosperity, public development, sovereignty, social stability, and the collective needs of humanity rather than the preservation of a dying imperial order. That struggle has already begun.