THE-IRAN FIRST-BLOG

For decades, Iranians have been told they must choose between competing visions for their country’s future. The choices have worn different faces, flown different flags, and spoken different slogans. Yet many ordinary Iranians have begun asking a different question: are these movements really as different as they claim to be?

The monarchists promise a return to the Pahlavi era. The Islamic Republic promises to preserve the revolution. The MEK promises revolutionary change under its own leadership. On the surface, they appear to represent three competing futures. But beneath the rhetoric, many critics argue that Iran shares several characteristics that have repeatedly prevented it from developing an inclusive political future.

Each movement revolves around a powerful central leadership. Each asks Iranians to place their faith in a particular organization or historical narrative. Each tends to divide society into supporters and enemies rather than encouraging a broad national consensus. Instead of beginning with the question, “What institutions will best serve Iran?” the debate too often becomes, “Which group deserves to rule?”

Critics also argue that a vocal segment of the online monarchist movement is driven more by image, nostalgia, and carefully curated social media branding than by serious engagement with Iran’s political, economic, or constitutional challenges. Rather than presenting detailed policy proposals or institutional reforms, many influencers rely on emotionally charged symbolism, idealized portrayals of the pre-1979 monarchy, and simplified narratives that reduce Iran’s complex history to a struggle between heroes and villains. The result, critics contend, is a movement that often prizes aesthetics and nostalgia over rigorous analysis, making personality and branding more visible than substantive debate about Iran’s future.

At the extremes of Iranian politics, each of these movements has developed its own culture that critics argue discourages independent thought.

Critics of the MEK describe it as exhibiting cult-like characteristics, pointing to its rigid internal discipline, intense loyalty to its leadership, and intolerance of dissent. Whether one accepts that characterization or not, the organization’s internal structure has long been a source of controversy.

Critics of the online monarchist movement argue that parts of it have evolved into a social media phenomenon driven more by nostalgia, symbolism, celebrity culture, and personal branding than by serious engagement with the institutional reforms needed for a modern Iran. In these circles, historical romanticism can sometimes overshadow difficult discussions about constitutional design, economic policy, minority rights, and democratic accountability.

The Islamic Republic, meanwhile, has built an ideological system in which religious authority and political power are closely intertwined. Its critics argue that this has produced a political culture resistant to pluralism, in which ideological conformity is often valued more highly than open debate, and dissent is frequently treated as disloyalty.

Although these movements differ profoundly in their histories and ideologies, critics argue they share a common tendency: they encourage followers to see politics as a struggle between absolute good and absolute evil. Loyalty often becomes more important than debate, and identity more important than evidence. The symbols may differ, but the political psychology is strikingly similar.

Another similarity, according to critics, is that all three movements have, at different points in their histories, faced criticism over their relationships with foreign governments or external sources of support. The nature and extent of those relationships differ significantly from one movement to another, and supporters of each movement strongly dispute comparisons between them. Nevertheless, many Iranians perceive that too much energy has been devoted to gaining legitimacy abroad rather than building it at home.

The greatest casualty of this polarization has been the disappearance of political space for pragmatic Iranian nationalists—those who reject both authoritarianism and personality cults, who seek accountable institutions instead of charismatic leaders, and who believe Iran’s future should be built through constitutional government, national sovereignty, and civic responsibility rather than ideological absolutism.

Today, the political conversation is dominated by three loud camps, each convinced that it alone possesses the answer to Iran’s future. In the process, they have left remarkably little oxygen for reasonable nationalist centrists who reject both theocracy and nostalgia, revolutionary cults and personality politics, and simply want competent, accountable government.

The result is a political conversation trapped in the past. One side invokes the monarchy. Another invokes the revolution. A third invokes its own revolutionary history. Meanwhile, the everyday concerns of Iranians—economic opportunity, competent government, scientific progress, education, public health, environmental protection, and national unity—receive far less attention than they deserve.

Iran does not need another movement asking for unquestioning loyalty. It needs institutions that can withstand leadership changes. It needs governments that can be challenged, corrected, and replaced through peaceful political processes. It needs accountability rather than personality, competence rather than slogans, and national development rather than permanent political conflict.

Perhaps the greatest mistake is believing that Iran’s future depends upon replacing one elite with another. History suggests that simply changing who sits at the top rarely changes how power is exercised. Lasting prosperity comes from institutions that limit power, encourage learning, reward competence, and place the national interest above factional interests.

This is why many Iranians increasingly reject being forced into a false choice between competing political camps. They are looking for something different altogether: a future that belongs to neither monarchists, nor the Islamic Republic, nor the MEK, but to the Iranian people themselves.

Iran deserves more than another ruling class. It deserves a political system that can outlive every ruler designed to serve Iranians!

Israel has endured a punishing campaign of Iranian missile attacks, exposing vulnerabilities that many believed did not exist. The political consequences for Netanyahu have been severe. His standing has weakened dramatically, and he faces growing questions about his leadership and his political future. In that context, this visit looks less like routine diplomacy and more like a high-stakes attempt to change the strategic—and political—conversation.

If history is any guide, Netanyahu is unlikely to arrive empty-handed. For decades, he has warned that Iran stands on the brink of acquiring nuclear weapons. Successive Israeli governments have presented new intelligence, new assessments, and new evidence to argue that the threat is immediate and demands decisive action. Whether one views these warnings as prudent vigilance or as an endlessly recycled case for confrontation largely depends on one’s perspective.

The likely message in Washington will be familiar: Iran has crossed yet another threshold. Recent nuclear activity, intelligence from inside Iran, or evidence of accelerated weapons development will be presented as proof that time has finally run out. The implication will be that the United States cannot afford to delay.

The question is whether anyone in Washington still finds this argument compelling.

Netanyahu’s most hawkish political allies have long favored a strategy in which the United States bears the overwhelming military burden of confronting Iran. From their perspective, American military power can achieve objectives that Israel cannot accomplish alone. Their preferred outcome has never been a regional war involving Israel on multiple fronts; it has been overwhelming U.S. intervention that removes the Iranian threat once and for all.

To persuade Trump, Netanyahu may draw on every argument available. He may emphasize intelligence on Iran’s leadership, portray regional allies as ready to support American action, or argue that a decisive strike would reshape the Middle East in America’s favor. Political arguments may also feature prominently, including claims about how strength abroad could influence perceptions of leadership at home.

Whether any of that moves the needle is another matter entirely.

The fundamental obstacle is not political will. It is capability.

The United States has finite stocks of precision-guided munitions after years of supporting Ukraine, conducting operations in the Middle East, and preparing for potential contingencies in the Indo-Pacific. Every major military commitment competes with another. Even if Washington wanted to undertake another large-scale campaign, the logistical and industrial challenges would be substantial.

Nor are America’s regional partners as dependable as they sometimes appear on paper. Coalition politics in the Middle East are notoriously fragile. Governments that privately support action against Iran are often reluctant to be seen publicly participating in another major war, particularly one that could provoke retaliation against their own populations and infrastructure.

Iran, meanwhile, is hardly isolated.

Tehran retains an extensive network of partners and proxy forces across the region. The Houthis in Yemen have already demonstrated their ability to disrupt international shipping and launch long-range attacks. Iran-backed militias in Iraq and Syria remain capable of targeting U.S. forces and regional bases. Despite suffering significant setbacks, Hezbollah remains a strategic factor that cannot be ignored. Any military campaign against Iran would almost certainly trigger responses across multiple theaters simultaneously.

This is not Iraq in 2003.

It is a far more complicated strategic environment with far fewer good options.

That leaves Netanyahu confronting an uncomfortable reality.

If the United States is unwilling—or unable—to launch the kind of operation Israel desires, what alternatives remain?

None are attractive.

Limited strikes are unlikely to eliminate Iran’s nuclear capabilities permanently. Economic sanctions have not fundamentally changed Tehran’s strategic calculus. Diplomatic efforts remain deeply unpopular among Israeli hardliners. A prolonged regional war would carry enormous costs for Israel itself.

The result is a strategic impasse.

For years, Netanyahu’s answer to virtually every Iranian nuclear development has been the same: urgency. This latest visit may once again attempt to convince Washington that the moment for decisive action has finally arrived.

But urgency does not solve the underlying problem.

Military resources are finite. Alliances have limits. Escalation carries consequences that neither Washington nor Jerusalem can fully control.

The greatest irony may be that after decades of warning about Iran’s nuclear ambitions, Netanyahu now finds himself with fewer viable options than ever before.

Whether this trip produces anything more than another round of warnings remains to be seen. But one thing appears increasingly clear: convincing the United States to launch another major war in the Middle East is far more difficult today than it was a generation ago.

Contrary to the ‘street rhetoric’ in Tehran, if Iran’s objective is to maximize its long-term strategic advantage, then the last thing it should want is Donald Trump to disappear from the political stage. From Tehran’s perspective, a living Trump may be far more valuable than a martyr. By now, Americans should be used to silly Iranian street declarations and how useless they have all turned out to be over the years.

History shows that nations often make their greatest mistakes not because of their enemies’ strength, but because of their own strategic miscalculations. It was Napoleon who famously said, “When the enemy is making a false movement, we must take good care not to interrupt him.” This has also been attributed to Sun Tzu (a Chinese General who wrote the famous military guidebook called The Art of War). And Iranian generals have been – if nothing else – strategically very patient. They have held back, allowing their enemies to make a long series of miscalculations and mistakes.

Trump and his minions of fools will become textbook case studies of precisely how this adage works. With a Military budget almost 100x Iran’s; with the highest technology at its disposal; with the most sophisticated intelligence shared with Israel’s world-renowned MOSSAD; with allies and bases across the world (and a massive, combined defense force); it has and continues to lose its war against Iran. It’s one mistake after another – all driven by Trump’s moronic leadership. I find this deeply embarrassing. And it goes far beyond the execution of this war.  

America’s recent economic trajectory illustrates this well. An economy that many expected to accelerate has instead faced significant headwinds. Inflation remains above the Federal Reserve’s long-term target, economic growth has moderated, and the costs associated with military operations have added further pressure through higher energy prices and supply-chain disruptions. At the same time, defense analysts have raised concerns about the rate at which precision munitions are being consumed relative to production capacity, while questions have been raised about the continuity of leadership within the Department of Defense following significant personnel turnover and organizational change. Whether one agrees with these criticisms or not, they have become part of the broader public debate about America’s strategic direction.

For Iran, this creates an uncomfortable but important strategic calculation. Why replace an opponent whom you believe is making costly mistakes? Why risk replacing a leader with someone who might be more disciplined, more experienced, or capable of rebuilding consensus at home and abroad?

The political dimension is equally important. Recent polling suggests that both Donald Trump and Benjamin Netanyahu have seen their public approval decline as the conflict has continued. Wars often begin with patriotic unity, but as casualties rise, economic costs mount, and clear objectives become harder to define, public support can erode. Leaders who tie their political fortunes to prolonged military campaigns frequently discover that wars become the defining issue in elections.

If that trend continues, extending the conflict could become politically self-defeating for the White House. Every additional month of war risks higher spending, greater strain on military readiness, more economic uncertainty, and increased public scrutiny of the administration’s decisions. In that sense, if one accepts this analysis, the war itself could become one of President Trump’s greatest political liabilities. Rather than defeating him, the conflict could progressively weaken his political position.

From Tehran’s perspective, intervening dramatically—particularly through an action that would unite the American public behind the President—could reverse that dynamic overnight. Political assassinations and spectacular attacks have often transformed controversial leaders into national symbols, rallying divided societies around them. Such an outcome could produce exactly the opposite of what Iran would want.

The wiser strategy, if Iran believes current American policies are strategically flawed, would be patience rather than provocation. Allow domestic political processes inside the United States to determine America’s leadership. Democracies have their own mechanisms for rewarding or punishing leaders. Foreign intervention rarely changes those mechanisms in a favorable direction; more often, it strengthens the incumbent by creating a common external enemy.

Great powers are seldom weakened solely by external adversaries. More often, they are weakened by accumulated strategic errors, institutional instability, economic pressures, and political overreach. If one believes those forces are already operating, then preserving the existing political dynamics may be strategically preferable to disrupting them.

Sometimes the greatest gift an adversary can give is not another attack, but another opportunity to continue making mistakes!

Listening to the pundits this morning, the situation in Iran is being compared to the Vietnam War (for the US). They are saying there is no way to win the war, so the only political outcome is an endless war until finally someone pulls the plug. Pundits are recollecting (from their own experience) that the administration knew then that the Vietnam War was lost, and it was merely a matter of time before someone would pull the US out.

And so, the thought is that if the conflict with Iran continues long enough, it will gradually become “another Vietnam”—a long, costly war of attrition that ultimately exhausts the United States. While history offers valuable lessons, this comparison overlooks fundamental differences between the two conflicts. In many respects, Iran presents a strategic challenge unlike anything the United States has faced before.

The first and perhaps most important distinction is geography. Vietnam never possessed the ability to disrupt one of the world’s most important economic arteries. Iran does. The Strait of Hormuz sits at the heart of the global energy system, carrying a substantial share of internationally traded oil and liquefied natural gas. Any prolonged disruption reverberates through energy markets, shipping, insurance, manufacturing, inflation, and economic growth far beyond the Middle East. A conflict involving Iran therefore affects not merely two combatants, but the global economy itself. Every additional week of fighting imposes costs on allies, adversaries, and neutral nations alike. Vietnam simply did not possess this degree of strategic leverage.

Second, Iran enters any conflict with military capabilities that are fundamentally different from those available to North Vietnam. Over decades, Iran has invested heavily in indigenous missile production, drones, air defenses, naval capabilities, and a broad network of regional partners. Whether one judges these capabilities to be decisive or not, they significantly increase Iran’s ability to retaliate and impose costs on its adversaries. Unlike Vietnam, which relied heavily on external suppliers, Iran has spent years building domestic military-industrial capacity designed specifically to withstand sanctions and prolonged conflict.

Third, the sheer scale of Iran changes the military equation. Iran is a vast country with extensive mountain ranges, deserts, large urban centers, and a population many times larger than North Vietnam’s during the Vietnam War. Occupying or controlling such a country would require an extraordinary commitment of manpower and resources over many years. Even maintaining secure lines of communication across such terrain would be an immense undertaking. Military history repeatedly demonstrates that conquering territory is often easier than governing it, and governing a country the size of Iran would represent one of the largest military commitments of the modern era.

This reality significantly narrows the range of realistic military objectives. A campaign aimed at forcing unconditional capitulation would face enormous practical obstacles. Limited air campaigns can damage infrastructure and military assets, but they do not necessarily compel political surrender. Regime change through outside military force has produced deeply mixed results in recent decades. A full-scale occupation would demand resources on a scale that few democracies appear willing to sustain. Each option carries substantial risks while offering uncertain prospects for achieving lasting political objectives.

Some argue that the only remaining option, should conventional military operations fail, would be the use of nuclear weapons. Such a decision would represent a dramatic escalation with profound humanitarian, political, and strategic consequences. It could fundamentally reshape international attitudes toward nuclear deterrence and non-proliferation, while creating powerful incentives for other states to seek their own nuclear capabilities. Rather than strengthening the global non-proliferation regime, such an outcome could weaken it by reinforcing the perception that only nuclear-armed states can reliably deter existential threats.

The larger lesson is that strategic planning must begin with a realistic assessment of what is actually achievable. Military power remains an extraordinarily important instrument of national policy, but it is not limitless. Geography, population, economics, industrial capacity, political will, and international consequences all shape the outcome of wars. Iran differs from Vietnam on virtually every one of these dimensions.

History rarely repeats itself exactly. The danger is not that Iran becomes another Vietnam. The danger is assuming that yesterday’s analogies can accurately predict tomorrow’s realities. Sound strategy requires recognizing when a conflict represents an entirely different kind of challenge—and adjusting expectations before events force that lesson upon policymakers.

The phrase “the West’s business model is that we can only thrive if we dominate” is provocative. It captures a criticism often made by geopolitical analysts, economists, and political commentators who argue that Western prosperity has historically depended not merely on innovation and productivity, but also on maintaining economic, financial, military, and technological supremacy. Whether one agrees with the statement or not, it raises important questions about how the global economy has evolved—and where it is heading.

History of Dominance

For much of the last five centuries, Western powers occupied a unique position in the world economy. European empires expanded across continents, controlling trade routes, extracting natural resources, and establishing political systems that benefited the imperial centers. The Industrial Revolution, fueled in part by access to overseas markets and raw materials, accelerated this advantage.

Following the Second World War, the United States emerged as the dominant global economic and military power. Institutions such as the International Monetary Fund (IMF), the World Bank, and later the World Trade Organization (WTO) helped establish a rules-based international order that many argue facilitated global growth. Critics, however, contend that these institutions have often reflected the interests and priorities of the most powerful economies.

Globalization and Western Prosperity

Globalization brought unprecedented economic integration. Manufacturing increasingly shifted to countries with lower labor costs, while Western economies specialized in finance, technology, intellectual property, and high-value services.

This arrangement delivered benefits to consumers through lower prices and expanded access to goods. It also generated substantial profits for multinational corporations. At the same time, it contributed to the decline of manufacturing employment in many Western countries and increased dependence on complex global supply chains.

For many observers, globalization represented less a neutral process than an extension of Western economic influence. Others argue it created opportunities for developing nations to industrialize and lift hundreds of millions of people out of poverty.

The Challenge from Emerging Powers

The rise of China has fundamentally altered the global balance of power. Unlike previous developing economies, China combined state planning with market reforms to become a manufacturing powerhouse, technological competitor, and increasingly influential geopolitical actor.

As China’s economic influence has expanded, Western governments have become more concerned about strategic dependence in areas such as semiconductors, telecommunications, artificial intelligence, and critical minerals.

The resulting shift toward industrial policy, trade restrictions, investment screening, and supply-chain diversification reflects a broader recognition that economic power has become inseparable from national security.

Is Dominance Necessary for Prosperity?

This is where the central debate lies.

One perspective argues that Western economies have grown accustomed to occupying the top of the global hierarchy. As other nations catch up, maintaining living standards becomes more challenging because relative economic advantages diminish. From this viewpoint, efforts to preserve technological leadership, reserve currency status, and geopolitical influence are seen as essential to sustaining prosperity.

Another perspective argues that prosperity does not require dominance. Countries can flourish through innovation, productivity, education, entrepreneurship, and mutually beneficial trade, even in a multipolar world. According to this view, cooperation and competition are not mutually exclusive; shared global growth can create larger markets and greater overall wealth.

The Risk of Zero-Sum Thinking

Viewing international economics as a zero-sum competition carries significant risks.

If policymakers assume that another country’s success necessarily comes at their own expense, tensions can escalate into trade wars, sanctions, technological decoupling, and military rivalry. While these measures may protect certain strategic industries, they can also reduce efficiency, increase costs, and fragment the global economy.

History suggests that prolonged periods of economic nationalism often come with unintended consequences, including slower growth and heightened geopolitical instability.

A Multipolar Future

The twenty-first century is increasingly defined by a shift toward multipolarity. Emerging economies such as India, Brazil, Indonesia, and several Gulf states are becoming more influential alongside established Western powers and China.

Rather than a world dominated by a single economic center, the future may involve multiple regional hubs of innovation, investment, and political influence.

For Western nations, adapting to this reality may require redefining success—not as preserving uncontested dominance, but as remaining competitive through investment in research, education, infrastructure, and resilient institutions.

Conclusion

The statement “the West’s business model is that we can only thrive if we dominate” reflects a critical interpretation of historical and contemporary geopolitics. There is evidence that Western powers have long benefited from periods of exceptional economic and strategic influence. However, whether continued prosperity depends on maintaining dominance is far more contested.

Some see today’s competition with emerging powers as proof that relative dominance remains essential. Others argue that the next era of global prosperity will depend less on hierarchy and more on innovation, resilience, and cooperation within a more balanced international system.

As power becomes more widely distributed, the question is no longer simply whether the West can remain dominant. It is whether the global economy can evolve in a way that allows multiple regions to prosper without viewing each other’s success as a threat.

For decades, Iran has projected a simple but consequential strategic message to the Middle East: either everyone enjoys security, or no one does. Whether one agrees with Tehran’s methods or not, this principle has shaped much of its regional policy, military doctrine, and diplomatic rhetoric.

To many Western observers, Iran’s actions are viewed primarily through the lens of proxy warfare, missile development, and regional competition. Yet from Tehran’s perspective, these policies are often presented as a response to a security environment it considers fundamentally unequal. Iran argues that lasting stability cannot exist if one state or coalition enjoys absolute military dominance while others remain vulnerable.

This philosophy is rooted in history. The 1980-1988 Iran-Iraq War, during which Iran faced invasion while receiving limited international support, left a profound imprint on the country’s strategic thinking. Since then, Iranian leaders have consistently argued that relying solely on international guarantees is insufficient. Instead, they have sought to build deterrence through indigenous military capabilities and partnerships across the region.

The phrase “security for everyone or security for none” reflects this worldview. It suggests that attempts to isolate, weaken, or threaten Iran inevitably create insecurity beyond its borders. In Tehran’s narrative, sanctions, military pressure, and attempts at regime change do not produce peace—they increase instability that eventually affects neighboring countries and global markets.

This perspective has become particularly evident during periods of heightened regional tension. Iranian officials have repeatedly warned that attacks on Iranian territory or interests would not remain localized. Instead, they argue that conflict would spread across the region, affecting energy infrastructure, maritime trade routes, and the security calculations of multiple states.

Critics, however, see this doctrine differently. They argue that Iran’s support for armed non-state groups and its expanding missile and drone capabilities contribute to regional instability rather than reducing it. From this viewpoint, the principle of mutual security can appear less like a diplomatic philosophy and more like a justification for projecting influence beyond Iran’s borders.

Supporters counter that deterrence works precisely because it raises the costs of conflict. They contend that Iran’s network of alliances and military capabilities has discouraged direct attacks by making potential adversaries think twice about escalation.

Both interpretations reveal an important truth: security in the Middle East is deeply interconnected. A conflict involving one major regional actor rarely remains confined to a single country. Energy supplies, shipping lanes, financial markets, refugee flows, and political alliances ensure that instability spreads rapidly.

This reality raises a difficult question for policymakers. Can lasting peace be built through overwhelming military superiority, or does sustainable security require a framework in which every state—regardless of size or political system—believes its fundamental security concerns are addressed?

Iran’s mantra challenges the prevailing assumption that one side can achieve complete security while its rivals remain strategically constrained. Whether viewed as a warning, a negotiating position, or a strategic doctrine, the message is clear: in an interconnected Middle East, security cannot be compartmentalized indefinitely.

Ultimately, the region faces a choice. It can continue operating under cycles of deterrence, retaliation, and escalation, or it can pursue a broader regional security architecture based on dialogue, mutual restraint, and recognition of shared interests. The path chosen will shape not only the future of Iran but the stability of the entire Middle East.

The debate over Iran’s mantra is therefore not merely about one country’s strategy. It is about a larger question that has challenged international relations for generations: Can anyone truly be secure if their neighbors are not?

Few American politicians have been more consistently enthusiastic about military intervention than Senator Lindsey Graham. For decades, he has argued that American security is best preserved through the credible threat—or the actual use—of overwhelming military force. Whether in Iraq, Libya, Afghanistan, or Iran, his instinct has rarely been toward restraint and almost always toward escalation.

The problem with this worldview is not simply that wars are expensive. It is that they rarely end where their advocates imagine they will. Every intervention creates second- and third-order consequences that reshape entire regions for decades. Iraq produced ISIS. Libya became a fractured state. Afghanistan consumed trillions of dollars before ending with the Taliban back in power. Each conflict was sold as a necessary step toward greater security. Each ultimately demonstrated how difficult it is to engineer political outcomes through military means alone.

Iran presents an even greater challenge. It is not a small, isolated state but one of the oldest continuous civilizations on Earth, with a population of roughly ninety million people, vast natural resources, strategic geography, and deep national pride. External military pressure has repeatedly strengthened hardline factions, increased nationalism, and made compromise politically more difficult. Those who believe that additional military pressure will simply produce a more compliant Iran have repeatedly underestimated how societies respond when they perceive themselves to be under attack.

The United States certainly has legitimate security interests in the Middle East, and Iran has supported armed groups that Washington and its allies view as destabilizing. Those realities deserve serious attention. But acknowledging them does not require embracing the assumption that military escalation is the only—or even the most effective—tool available. Diplomacy, deterrence, economic engagement, and regional security arrangements have also shaped outcomes throughout modern history.

The broader concern is what a politics of perpetual confrontation does to America itself. Endless crises consume resources, deepen polarization, increase national debt, and divert attention from investments in education, infrastructure, research, and innovation. Great powers are not weakened only by their adversaries; they are often weakened by their own inability to distinguish between necessary conflicts and optional ones.

History rarely judges leaders by how many wars they advocate. It judges them by whether they left their country more secure, more prosperous, and more respected than they found it. Foreign policy should ultimately be measured by outcomes, not by the volume of its rhetoric or the frequency of its threats.

The question, then, is not whether America should be strong. It should. The question is what strength actually means. If strength is defined only by the willingness to wage war, then every disagreement eventually becomes a battlefield. If strength is defined by achieving durable security while avoiding unnecessary conflict, then diplomacy, alliances, economic resilience, and military deterrence become complementary rather than competing tools.

That is the debate worth having—not whether America should project power, but whether the foreign policy instincts that have repeatedly led it into costly and protracted conflicts have ultimately made either America or the world safer.

On a completely separate note, I was deeply offended by Lindsey Graham’s disparaging remarks about Iranians – in general. Calling Iranians “Pool Room Hustlers”, or “He would be embarrassed to be an Iranian”, etc. And his support for RP was, at best, suspicious. A word of advice to the RP monarchist gang: you really don’t want to be sleeping with dogs, ’cause you’ll then wake up with fleas. And Graham was a dog, and so is Netanyahu. It totally undermines your cause.  

Here’s a song I wrote for Lady G: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ubn9TpNiy1A&list=RDubn9TpNiy1A&start_radio=1

For almost half a century, Americans have been told a remarkably simple story: that the United States has been at war with Iran since 1979. It has become one of those political phrases repeated so often that it is rarely questioned. Yet when you actually examine the historical record, the claim begins to fall apart.

The relationship between Washington and Tehran has not been one of continuous war. It has been one of confrontation, cooperation, covert engagement, mutual dependence, proxy conflict, negotiation, and, at times, surprisingly close strategic alignment. It has been complicated, contradictory and often deeply cynical. But it has not been forty-seven years of uninterrupted war.

That distinction matters because false historical narratives lead to bad policy.

The first myth is that the Islamic Republic simply emerged in opposition to the United States. The final years of the Shah’s government were far more complex than the popular story suggests. Washington’s relationship with Mohammad Reza Shah deteriorated dramatically during the revolution, and many critics argue that American policy helped undermine one of its closest regional allies. Whether by design or through miscalculation, the United States did not ultimately preserve the Shah’s rule. The revolutionary government came to power amid a period of extraordinary geopolitical upheaval in which American decisions played an important role.

If America had truly regarded the Islamic Republic as an enemy from day one, the decades that followed become difficult to explain.

Consider the Iran-Contra affair. During the 1980s, while publicly portraying Iran as a hostile state, senior American officials secretly approved arms sales to Tehran. Public rhetoric and private policy were moving in opposite directions. Governments genuinely engaged in existential wars rarely conduct covert weapons deals with their supposed enemy.

The pattern continued.

Throughout the Soviet occupation of Afghanistan, the United States and Iran shared an important strategic objective: forcing Soviet withdrawal. Both countries supported Afghan resistance groups, although often through different channels and with different preferred factions. Their interests overlapped far more than today’s political rhetoric would suggest.

After September 11, that cooperation became even more explicit.

Iran condemned the attacks almost immediately. More importantly, Iranian diplomats and intelligence officials worked closely with the United States during the campaign against the Taliban. Iranian assistance proved valuable during the negotiations that produced Afghanistan’s post-Taliban government, and senior American officials involved at the time have publicly acknowledged Tehran’s constructive role.

That is not the behaviour of two countries locked in an uninterrupted forty-seven-year war.

The same pattern appeared again in Iraq.

Whatever their broader differences, both Washington and Tehran shared an interest in removing Saddam Hussein. After the invasion, both sought to prevent complete state collapse and both invested heavily in stabilising the new Iraqi government, even while competing fiercely for influence inside the country. Cooperation and competition existed simultaneously.

Again, history refuses to fit the simple slogan.

Then came the nuclear negotiations.

The Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action represented years of sustained diplomacy involving American and Iranian officials meeting through both public and private channels. Intelligence cooperation, diplomatic backchannels through Oman and Switzerland, prisoner negotiations, military deconfliction in Iraq and Syria—all demonstrate that communication never truly stopped.

Even during periods of maximum hostility, the two governments continued talking.

None of this means relations were peaceful. They clearly were not.

There were sanctions, assassinations, cyberattacks, proxy wars, military confrontations, hostage crises and enormous mutual distrust. Americans and Iranians have legitimate grievances against one another that cannot simply be dismissed.

But that is precisely the point.

A cold conflict is not the same as a permanent war.

A geopolitical rivalry is not the same as an existential military conflict.

And a relationship containing repeated episodes of strategic cooperation cannot honestly be described as forty-seven years of uninterrupted warfare.

Why, then, has the “forty-seven years of war” narrative become so popular?

Because it simplifies an extraordinarily complicated history into a politically useful slogan. It turns diplomacy into appeasement. It turns negotiation into weakness. It turns every crisis into proof that nothing except confrontation has ever existed.

History says otherwise.

The real story of U.S.-Iran relations is not one of permanent enemies. It is one of governments that have repeatedly found themselves cooperating when their interests aligned and confronting each other when they did not. Sometimes those interests changed within months. Sometimes within days.

That complexity makes for uncomfortable politics, but it makes for far better history.

If policymakers begin with the false assumption that America has been fighting Iran continuously since 1979, then today’s tensions appear inevitable and diplomacy appears futile.

If, instead, they begin with the historical record, they discover something quite different: that despite ideological hostility, both countries have repeatedly demonstrated an ability to cooperate when strategic interests demanded it.

Perhaps the biggest lie is not that America and Iran have disagreed for forty-seven years.

It is the claim that they have never worked together.

History tells a much more interesting story than that.

For more than two decades, American and Israeli policy toward Iran has been built around a simple assumption: if enough pressure is applied—through sanctions, isolation, sabotage, assassinations, cyberattacks, and ultimately military force—Iran will eventually conclude that it has no alternative but to surrender its nuclear ambitions. Every administration has varied the tactics, but the underlying strategy has remained remarkably consistent. More pressure today would produce a more compliant Iran tomorrow.

What if that assumption has been fundamentally wrong?

Reports that Iran’s parliament is considering fast-tracked legislation to withdraw from the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT), repeal the domestic legal framework supporting the 2015 nuclear agreement, and pursue new strategic arrangements with friendly countries should force us to ask a much larger question than whether Iran will leave the treaty. We should instead be asking how we reached a point where leaving the NPT is now being seriously debated inside the Iranian political establishment. That, in my view, is the far more important story.

Treaties are built on incentives. Nations do not remain in international agreements because they enjoy legal obligations or international inspections. They remain because they believe those agreements leave them safer, more prosperous, or more secure than the alternatives. The moment that calculation changes, the treaty begins to lose its value, regardless of how elegantly it was drafted.

Now consider Iran’s position over the past twenty years. It remained a member of the NPT. It accepted extensive international inspections. It negotiated the JCPOA and accepted meaningful restrictions on its nuclear program. Yet during precisely that period, it also experienced crippling sanctions, the assassination of nuclear scientists, repeated acts of sabotage, cyberattacks, military strikes, open discussions of regime change, and increasingly direct attacks by both Israel and the United States. Whether one agrees with Tehran’s policies or not, it is not difficult to understand how many Iranians might conclude that remaining inside the treaty has not translated into greater national security.

This is where strategy becomes more important than politics. Every military action has consequences beyond its immediate tactical objective. Every bomb dropped on Iran’s infrastructure is also dropped into Iran’s political debate. Every assassination changes the balance between those arguing for engagement with the international system and those arguing that only military strength can guarantee the country’s survival. If the political beneficiaries of Western pressure are precisely those who have always opposed compromise, then it is reasonable to ask whether the strategy is producing the opposite of its intended effect.

History suggests that this should not surprise us. Nations that believe their survival is at stake rarely become more conciliatory. They become more united, more nationalistic, and more determined to eliminate what they perceive as strategic vulnerabilities. The expectation that sustained military pressure would eventually produce a more accommodating Iran has always rested on a remarkably optimistic reading of history. More often than not, external pressure strengthens hardliners while weakening those advocating engagement and compromise.

The irony is difficult to ignore. The governments most determined to prevent Iran from ever acquiring a nuclear deterrent may have spent the past twenty years constructing the strongest possible argument for why many Iranians now believe such a deterrent is essential. That is not because Iranian leaders suddenly changed their worldview. It is because the incentive structure changed. If remaining within the international system does not reduce military threats, the political value of doing so inevitably comes into question.

The implications extend far beyond Iran. If Tehran ultimately invokes Article X and withdraws from the NPT, every country watching this confrontation will draw its own conclusions. The lesson will not concern Iran’s nuclear program alone. It will call into question the credibility of the international non-proliferation regime itself. Other governments will ask whether treaty membership genuinely enhances national security or merely imposes legal obligations without offering meaningful protection when geopolitical tensions escalate.

That should concern every government that believes international agreements are preferable to military competition. The strength of the NPT has never rested solely on legal language. It has rested on the belief that countries are better off remaining inside the system than outside it. Once that belief begins to erode, the treaty’s authority erodes with it.

If Iran ultimately withdraws, I suspect many Western politicians will point to the decision as proof that Iran could never be trusted. History may prove less forgiving. Historians may instead ask whether decades of sanctions, military escalation, covert operations, and diplomatic abandonment gradually destroyed the very incentives that encouraged Iran to remain within the treaty in the first place.

That is the strategic tragedy unfolding before us. The objective was to prevent nuclear proliferation. The danger now is that, through a succession of policies that consistently rewarded confrontation over diplomacy, we may have weakened one of the world’s most important non-proliferation agreements while simultaneously strengthening the political forces inside Iran that always argued it was a mistake to trust it.

If that is where this story ends, Iran’s withdrawal from the NPT will not mark the beginning of failure. It will simply be the moment the failure became impossible to ignore.

Donald Trump may have finally created the political disaster from which even Donald Trump cannot escape.

The war with Iran is no longer a distant foreign-policy crisis that can be packaged into a television speech, decorated with flags and described as another demonstration of American strength. It is rapidly becoming a direct assault on the economic security of ordinary Americans, the stability of global financial markets and the political survival of the Republican Party in November. The consequences are arriving through three interconnected channels: dramatically higher commodity prices, the potential withdrawal of enormous pools of Gulf liquidity from Western financial markets, and an electoral backlash from voters who were promised lower prices and peace but received inflation and war.

This is the Iran war trifecta.

The first impact is the most visible and the most immediate: commodity prices. Every serious disruption in the Persian Gulf begins with oil, but it never ends with oil. The Strait of Hormuz remains one of the most important energy corridors in the world, carrying roughly one-fifth of global oil supplies under normal conditions. Renewed fighting has already sent Brent crude higher, reduced shipping through the strait and pushed global stock markets lower. Following the latest escalation, Brent rose nearly 5 percent in a single session, while major Asian markets suffered sharp declines.

But oil is only the opening act. Higher oil prices feed directly into gasoline, diesel, aviation fuel, electricity generation, trucking, manufacturing and almost every product that must be moved from one location to another. Natural-gas disruptions raise the cost of electricity and industrial production. Fertilizer prices rise because fertilizers are heavily dependent on natural gas and energy-intensive processing. Food prices then rise because farmers pay more for fuel, fertilizer, transportation, refrigeration and packaging. Shipping insurance rises. Freight rates rise. Plastics, chemicals, metals and construction materials rise.

The Iran war therefore operates like a global tax, except nobody voted for it, nobody knows how large it will become, and the money does not finance better schools, roads or healthcare. It is simply destroyed through higher costs, lost production, damaged infrastructure, military expenditure and uncertainty.

Trump returned to power promising to reduce inflation and make life affordable again. Instead, his policies have combined tariffs, deficits and war into an inflation-producing machine. Economists now expect inflation to remain stubbornly above the Federal Reserve’s target, with energy disruption from the Iran war adding to existing price pressures and limiting the central bank’s ability to reduce interest rates.

The second part of the trifecta is less visible to the public, but potentially even more consequential: the loss of Arab liquidity.

For decades, the Persian Gulf states have accumulated extraordinary pools of financial capital and recycled much of that wealth into American and European assets. Their sovereign wealth funds own government bonds, public equities, private companies, real estate, infrastructure, technology investments and stakes in some of the largest institutions in the Western world. Gulf sovereign wealth funds collectively control several trillion dollars, with Abu Dhabi’s institutions alone managing assets measured in the trillions.

This capital has not been sitting passively in desert bank accounts. It has helped finance American deficits, support asset prices, fund private-equity transactions, build technology companies, purchase real estate and provide liquidity throughout the global financial system. Gulf money has been one of the great hidden stabilizers of Western finance.

Now those states are being forced to reconsider how that money is deployed.

A prolonged regional war requires Gulf governments to spend enormous sums defending their territory, protecting energy infrastructure, supporting damaged industries, subsidizing their populations and rebuilding aviation, tourism, logistics and trade networks. Several Gulf sovereign wealth funds have already reviewed their foreign-investment strategies as the conflict places growing pressure on their domestic economies.

That does not necessarily mean the Gulf states will suddenly dump every American asset they own. The real danger is subtler. New investment may slow. Existing assets may be sold gradually. Capital that would have flowed into New York, London, Silicon Valley or American government debt may instead remain in Riyadh, Abu Dhabi, Doha or Kuwait to finance domestic security and reconstruction.

The marginal dollar matters enormously in financial markets. Asset prices are not determined by the total amount of money that already exists; they are determined by the price at which the next buyer is willing and able to invest. Remove a significant portion of Gulf liquidity from Western markets at the same time that governments are borrowing heavily, interest rates remain elevated and investors are fleeing risk, and the result could be far more serious than a temporary stock-market correction.

Bond yields could rise. Equity valuations could fall. Real-estate financing could tighten. Private-equity deals could collapse. Technology funding could slow. Banks and investment funds dependent on continuous capital inflows could suddenly discover that the ocean of liquidity beneath them was much shallower than they imagined.

The war could therefore produce a strange and dangerous combination: commodity inflation in the real economy and asset deflation in financial markets. Americans would pay more at the gasoline pump and grocery store while watching the value of their retirement accounts, homes and investments fall. The Federal Reserve would then face an almost impossible choice. Raise interest rates to control inflation and deepen the financial downturn, or lower rates to support markets and risk another surge in prices.

This is the economic trap Trump has constructed.

The third part of the trifecta arrives in November.

American voters may not follow the movement of Brent crude futures, sovereign wealth allocations or Treasury yields, but they understand gasoline prices. They understand grocery bills. They understand mortgage rates, credit-card payments and declining retirement accounts. They understand when a president promised peace and delivered another Middle Eastern war. They understand when a president promised lower prices and produced higher prices.

Trump’s political position was already deteriorating before the full consequences of this renewed escalation became clear. Recent polling has shown deep public dissatisfaction with his handling of the economy and inflation, including growing disappointment among some of the voters who returned him to office in 2024.

The political danger is not simply that Democrats will accuse Trump of mismanaging the economy. The danger is that the evidence will be visible every day. It will appear on gas-station signs, supermarket receipts, mortgage statements, airline tickets and retirement-account balances.

Republicans will have to defend a war that was sold as quick, decisive and manageable but has instead created an open-ended confrontation with a country capable of disrupting the most important energy artery in the world. They will have to explain why American families are paying more because Trump chose escalation over diplomacy. They will have to explain why the United States is spending billions overseas while public infrastructure, housing affordability and household finances deteriorate at home.

The traditional rally-around-the-flag effect may still provide Trump with temporary political protection, but such effects usually weaken when wars drag on, casualties accumulate and economic pain spreads. A short military spectacle can sometimes strengthen a president. An inflationary, market-destabilizing and apparently endless war is something else entirely.

The political sequence is brutally simple. War disrupts energy and trade. Disruption raises commodity prices. Higher commodity prices revive inflation. Inflation keeps interest rates elevated. Elevated rates weaken housing, investment and consumer spending. At the same time, Gulf states redirect capital toward their own survival, removing liquidity from Western markets. Financial assets weaken. Retirement accounts decline. Businesses postpone investment. Consumer confidence falls.

Then Americans vote.

Trump appears to believe that wars are television events in which he announces victory, attacks his critics and moves on to the next spectacle. But markets do not respond to speeches. Tankers do not move because Trump declares that a problem has been solved. Insurance companies do not ignore missiles. Sovereign wealth funds do not risk national survival to protect the political image of an American president.

The world economy will deliver its own verdict long before historians do.

Trump may have imagined that war with Iran would make him appear strong. Instead, it may expose the central weakness of his entire presidency: the belief that reality can be intimidated, renamed or overwhelmed by repetition. He can call inflation temporary. He can call market declines an opportunity. He can call military escalation peace through strength. He can announce victory as many times as he wants.

But Americans will still know what they are paying.

The Iran war has created the possibility of a perfect political storm: rising commodity prices, vanishing Gulf liquidity and an electorate already exhausted by the cost of living. Individually, any one of these forces would be dangerous. Together, they could become politically fatal.

Trump wanted a triumphant war.

He may have created his own economic and electoral execution.