
There are no secrets anymore. Follow comment strings online, and you can easily piece together the truth. You can test hypotheses, verify information, and determine with very high accuracy exactly how specific events played out.
It turns out that senior leadership in the US Department of War (former DOD) had set arbitrary ‘goals’ in the bombing campaign in Iran. The idea was that there would be progressive increases in the number of targets bombed from 2800 to 3800 to 4800, systematically over time, to increase pressure on the government.
Faced with this increase in demand, operatives had to find shortcuts to identify targets. And here is where AI came to play. Palantir’s MAVEN system, combined with (Elon Musk’s) GROK, had been installed to capture dynamic details from satellite images and convert them into detailed maps to identify targets on an ongoing basis.
Here is where it gets tricky: apparently, GROK took information from MAVEN to recommend a military base in Southern Iran as a high-value target. Even though MAVEN had indicated military equipment was employed at the base, GROK correlated this information with an old map of the base (NOT A CURRENT MAP), to recommend targeting a section of the base that had been sold and in use as a primary school for young girls. Under pressure to find large numbers of targets, Air Force operatives literally cut and paste these coordinates, and the rest is history… 168 young girls (and their teachers) were killed in a bombing campaign.
This is where we are now, in modern warfare.
There is something profoundly ironic about the new age we are now entering. Humanity has created perhaps the most sophisticated analytical instrument in its entire history, a technology capable of processing unimaginable quantities of information, discovering relationships that would escape even the brightest human minds, and modeling systems of extraordinary complexity. Artificial intelligence can help scientists discover new medicines, engineers design cleaner energy systems, economists understand markets, and physicians diagnose diseases earlier and more accurately than ever before. It has the potential to become one of civilization’s greatest achievements, expanding human knowledge and improving the quality of life for billions of people. Yet, its primary use – the current business model – involves exploiting high-value military applications first. And the timing of the war with Iran seems to be the first real-life incident where this technology is being rolled out. Not surprisingly, there are serious issues with applying this technology, which is still in its infancy. Ask the families of these young ladies!
The first question we have chosen to ask about this remarkable technology is not how to prevent war, but how to wage it more effectively.
There is, sadly, a familiar pattern in human history. Almost every significant technological breakthrough has eventually been adapted for military purposes. Metallurgy produced stronger swords before it produced better plows. Chemistry gave us explosives and poison gas alongside fertilizers and pharmaceuticals. Nuclear physics delivered both electricity and atomic bombs. Computing transformed commerce and communication while simultaneously creating entirely new domains of cyber warfare. Artificial intelligence now appears destined to follow precisely the same path, becoming another powerful instrument in humanity’s long pursuit of military advantage.
Technology itself, however, bears none of the moral responsibility. Artificial intelligence possesses no instinct for revenge, no prejudice, no nationalism, no religious conviction, and no emotional desire to dominate other people. It harbors neither fear nor hatred and has no ambition beyond accomplishing the objectives assigned to it. In that sense, AI functions as an extraordinary mirror, reflecting not its own values but our own. Whatever purpose we place before it, whether noble or destructive, it pursues with equal diligence because it has no independent moral compass of its own.
If we ask it to analyze satellite imagery, identify military installations, optimize logistics, or improve battlefield decision-making, it will attempt to perform those tasks with remarkable efficiency. Yet if we pose an entirely different set of questions, something equally remarkable begins to emerge. Ask an advanced AI how lasting peace might be established between the United States and Iran, how Israelis and Palestinians might gradually build sufficient trust to coexist peacefully, or what sequence of diplomatic, economic, and security measures could reduce the probability of conflict over the coming generation, and the responses are often thoughtful, balanced, and surprisingly sophisticated. I wish VP Vance would take the time to at least read these outputs. I have.
Rather than offering simplistic slogans or ideological certainties, artificial intelligence typically proposes phased confidence-building measures, reciprocal security guarantees, economic integration, independent verification mechanisms, educational exchanges, infrastructure cooperation, and carefully sequenced diplomatic initiatives designed to reduce fear while increasing mutual dependence. It recognizes, perhaps more readily than many politicians, that enduring peace is rarely achieved through dramatic declarations or absolute victories, but is instead constructed patiently through hundreds of practical decisions that gradually replace distrust with confidence and confrontation with cooperation.
In other words, artificial intelligence is every bit as capable of helping humanity design peace as it is of helping nations prepare for war. The tragedy lies not in the technology itself, but in the priorities we bring to it. Our machines are becoming increasingly intelligent, while our political imagination often appears trapped inside centuries-old assumptions about power, deterrence, and military superiority. We continue to devote extraordinary financial resources, intellectual talent, and political attention to planning future conflicts, while investing comparatively little in systematically exploring how those same conflicts might be prevented altogether.
One cannot help wondering how different the world might become if governments approached artificial intelligence with a fundamentally different objective. Imagine every foreign ministry operating AI systems whose primary purpose was not merely to identify emerging threats, but to identify emerging opportunities for reconciliation. Imagine algorithms continuously analyzing where trade agreements could create mutual dependence strong enough to discourage war, where water-sharing arrangements might reduce regional tensions before they erupted into violence, where constitutional reforms could better protect minority populations, or where carefully designed economic development projects could remove the underlying grievances upon which extremism so often flourishes.
None of these possibilities lies beyond the capabilities of today’s technology. What remains scarce is not computational power but political imagination. The greatest obstacle to peace has seldom been a lack of information; rather, it has been humanity’s persistent tendency to become imprisoned by its own assumptions, historical grievances, and emotional instincts. Leaders often inherit conflicts whose origins stretch back generations, and before long those conflicts begin to appear permanent, inevitable, and incapable of resolution. Artificial intelligence, by contrast, carries none of that historical baggage. It approaches problems without inherited prejudice, without personal pride, and without the emotional investment that so often narrows human judgment. Its value lies not in replacing political leadership but in expanding the range of possibilities that leaders are willing to consider.
Of course, no algorithm can negotiate a treaty, rebuild trust between enemies, or summon the courage required to make difficult political compromises. Peace will always remain a profoundly human achievement because it demands wisdom, empathy, restraint, and moral leadership—qualities that no machine can possess. Yet artificial intelligence can become an extraordinarily valuable adviser, helping decision-makers understand the long-term consequences of their choices, revealing opportunities for cooperation that may otherwise remain hidden, and exposing assumptions that deserve to be challenged before they harden into irreversible policy.
History reminds us repeatedly that today’s adversaries can become tomorrow’s allies. Germany and Japan transformed from bitter enemies into close partners of the United States. Vietnam, once the site of one of America’s most painful wars, now enjoys expanding diplomatic and economic relations with Washington. Such transformations did not occur because technology made them inevitable, but because political leaders eventually chose to ask different questions about the future than they had asked during the years of conflict.
Perhaps that is the greatest lesson artificial intelligence has to offer us. Its true promise does not lie in enabling humanity to fight more efficiently, but in helping humanity think more creatively about how wars might be avoided altogether. If history eventually passes judgment on the age of artificial intelligence, it may care far less about the sophistication of the algorithms we created than about the purposes to which we chose to apply them. Future generations may well look back in astonishment at the fact that the most powerful analytical tool our civilization had ever invented was so often employed to perfect the art of war, when it might instead have been used to perfect the conditions for peace. The machine itself is indifferent. It neither seeks conflict nor desires harmony. It merely responds to the questions we ask. The true measure of our civilization, therefore, will not be found in the intelligence of our machines, but in the wisdom with which we choose to employ them.









