Send a textPower can change a map overnight, but people live with the aftermath for generations. We take a hard look at four decades of American choices in the Middle East—across Iraq, Libya, Egypt, and Iran—and ask whether our interventions, sold as moral necessities, actually produced stability or planted chaos. Rather than re-litigate talking points, we practice moral accounting: if you topple a government, you own the aftermath. That means measuring foreseeable harms, funding rec...
Send a text
Power can change a map overnight, but people live with the aftermath for generations. We take a hard look at four decades of American choices in the Middle East—across Iraq, Libya, Egypt, and Iran—and ask whether our interventions, sold as moral necessities, actually produced stability or planted chaos. Rather than re-litigate talking points, we practice moral accounting: if you topple a government, you own the aftermath. That means measuring foreseeable harms, funding reconstruction with the same urgency as strikes, and refusing to baptize strategy as righteousness.
We revisit Iraq’s missing WMDs and the vacuum that fueled ISIS, then move to Libya’s humanitarian rationale that gave way to militias and trafficking. Egypt reveals the limits of slogan democracy when institutions are frail and external pressure lacks a long-term plan. With Iran, we challenge reflexes shaped by sanctions, threats, and alliance gravity, and we ask the unasked: what does regime collapse actually look like in a nation of over 90 million people, and who stabilizes the day after? Throughout, we draw a line through a leader-centric instinct—Saddam must go, Gaddafi must go, Mubarak must go—that treats nations like Lego sets, ignoring how entire structures shift when the top piece is yanked.
Clean intervention is a myth. Every bomb has a blast radius; every sanction hits civilians first. Moral consistency demands that if children are sacred, they are sacred everywhere, not only within our borders. So we press for strategic clarity—precise objectives, limited aims, and real plans for second- and third-order effects—and for honesty about interests like oil, trade routes, and deterrence without cloaking them in moral absolutes. History doesn’t remember intentions; it remembers outcomes, and outcomes have names. If we’re serious about ethics and security, we must weigh power like judges, not fans.
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