Wars have two outcomes. You win, or you lose.

Everything else is vocabulary.

There is a tradition in American political discourse, dating roughly to the late 1960s, of pretending that wars can end without anyone losing. We adopted this convention because the alternative — telling the public the truth about Vietnam — was politically intolerable. We have been refining it ever since.

We “draw down.”
We “transition the security relationship to host-nation forces.”
We “reposition” troops.
We “complete the mission.”
We negotiate “honorable terms.”

Saigon fell. Kabul fell. Saddam fell, but what replaced him was Baghdad's fall. Caracas fell, with Maduro replaced by another Maduro figure (Delcy Rodríguez). Surprise surprise, in that situation, we didn’t even get oil.

The convention persists not because it accurately describes outcomes, but because it allows the political class to avoid accountability for the wars it starts.

I am going to set that convention aside.

The war that the United States and Israel began on February 28, 2026, has two possible endings, and only two. The first is that the United States forces Iran to capitulate — accepts surrender on whatever terms Washington defines and translates the kinetic victory into structural political control over Iran’s nuclear program, ballistic missile arsenal, regional posture, and Strait of Hormuz access. The second is that the United States accepts terms it would have rejected on February 27.

That is the binary.

There is no third door. There is no “managed off-ramp” that avoids the binary. There is no diplomatic formulation that disguises the binary. There is the version where Iran capitulates, and the version where we do, and every version that gets called something else is the latter (America loses) with a flowery description attached.

Iran is not capitulating. The reasons are arithmetic, and I will get to them. Which means the question — the only question — is the geometry of the American loss. How long does it take? What we surrender. To whom. At what cost? Whether the political class admits it.

Whether the country survives the admission.

This is what the cable news desks will not tell you, because it would require their guests to acknowledge that a war launched seventy days ago by an administration that promised swift victory is now a war the United States is in the process of losing, and the open questions are about cadence and price, not outcome. It is also what the energy markets have yet to tell you, in the only language markets ever speak, which is the language of what people are willing to pay for what.

Quite soon, however, all of the lies and delusions will melt away, for both politicians and markets. When that happens, things could get a bit ugly.

Let me show you why.

What Winning Would Cost

There is a specific historical case in which a great power compelled a determined adversary to capitulate through air and sea power alone. It is the only case. The case is Imperial Japan, August 1945.

The numbers from that campaign are worth holding in your head because they are the floor for what “compelled capitulation” looks like when the adversary has decided to absorb whatever cost is necessary to continue resisting.

The U.S. Army firebombed sixty-seven Japanese cities over five months, killing somewhere between 330,000 and 900,000 civilians, depending on whose count you trust. Tokyo, on a single night in March 1945, lost more people than either of the atomic strikes. The naval blockade was nearly complete; Japanese industrial production by July 1945 was operating at a fraction of capacity, fuel was gone, food was gone, and civilian rations had been reduced to a level the regime itself privately understood to be unsustainable through winter.

Then we used two atomic weapons.

Then the Soviets entered the war.

Then Japan surrendered.

And even then — even with the cities burning and the empire dismembered and the cabinet split — the surrender was a near-run thing held together by an Emperor who had to record his concession in advance and hide the recording from the officers attempting to seize the palace and prevent the broadcast.

That is what compelling capitulation looks like.

Iran in 2026 is not Japan in 1945. Iran has roughly 90 million people, spread across a country four times Japan’s size, with a substantial portion of its population and infrastructure embedded in mountainous terrain that does not burn the way Japanese cities burned.

Iran has a modern air defense network — degraded by the February 28 strikes, but not eliminated. Iran has hardened nuclear facilities and command-and-control infrastructure that were specifically designed to survive the kind of strike package the United States is currently operating. Iran has a regional militia network that does not depend on Tehran for tactical coordination and whose strategic value increases as Tehran absorbs more pressure. Iran has the active backing of Russia and the active hedging of China, both of whom view the war as a stress test of the American security architecture and have correctly calculated that the longer it runs, the worse Washington’s position becomes.

Most importantly, Iran has demonstrated, across the eight-year Iran-Iraq War, the post-2003 insurgency cycle, decades of sanctions, the assassination of Soleimani, and now the assassination of Khamenei himself, that this regime will absorb a level of pain that no Western polity is currently structured to inflict.

To force the Islamic Republic into capitulation through air and sea power alone — without a ground invasion the Joint Chiefs have been telling presidents for thirty years cannot succeed at any sustainable cost — would require a campaign of strategic destruction on the same scale as that which was done to Japan, scaled to Iran’s larger population and territory, against a regime that has every reason to believe capitulation means execution.

Most importantly, surrender would only come when the regime believes it can no longer coherently resist, that the destruction of the State as a coherent entity is real and upon them, and that further resistance is utterly futile. The only rational decision before such leaders would be: we must capitulate or face total annihilation.

To bring about all of this, I estimate that the order of magnitude is twenty to thirty million Iranian dead. It would have to occur in a matter of weeks, not months. It would possibly require us to use nuclear weapons.

It would require us to destroy the entirety of civilian infrastructure, military infrastructure, and the ability for Iran to continue to resist.

In any case, the math is simple: roughly a quarter of the country would likely have to die before we even remotely reach the “win” threshold.

I am not exaggerating to be provocative. I am giving you the number that Pentagon planners would arrive at if a president actually asked them, in writing, what it would take. I have sat in rooms where questions like this were taken seriously, and the people who do that work understand that the alternative to honest math is the political math, which produces the wars we lose.

No American president authorizes this. Trump does not. Whatever you think of him, whatever the man’s appetite for performative cruelty, he is also a politician with a fundamentally commercial sensibility who understands that a campaign of that scale would not be tolerated by the alliance system, by the financial system, by the military officers required to execute it, by the half of Congress that would correctly identify it as a war crime, or by the third of his own coalition that would split off the moment the casualty footage started running. He would lose the cabinet. He would lose the Joint Chiefs. He would lose the dollar.

Even if his desires were to inflict that level of casualty upon Iran, the casualties and consequences for America would be so devastating that one would have to accept that Trump is willing to obviously act against his own interests and incentives to engage in that level of violence (even if we assume everyone else would go along with executing it).

The argument that nuclear weapons make this easier is wrong. Nuclear weapons make the same problem at a different scale. Threatening Tehran with a nuclear strike, or actually executing one, produces every consequence above, plus the collapse of the entire post-1968 nonproliferation architecture, the immediate justification for nuclear acquisition by any state that could not previously justify it, and a Russian-Chinese counter-response we have specifically structured the past thirty years of strategic posture to avoid.

I’m not running this scenario, assuming people show good judgment and restraint. I’m looking at this scenario, asking, “Would it align with anyone’s interests?” The simple answer to that question appears to be no.

There is no path through the win column. Therefore, we are in the loss column. The only operational question is the geometry of the loss.

Five Geometries of Loss

There are roughly five historical templates for how a great power exits a war it cannot win. They are not mutually exclusive. The Iran outcome will likely combine elements of several. But each carries a specific signature, and recognizing which template the United States is sliding toward is the most useful analytical exercise available right now.

The Suez Geometry. Britain and France attacked Egypt in 1956 to seize the Suez Canal after Nasser nationalized it. The military operation was tactically successful. Within a week of the launch, the United States — using Treasury pressure on the British pound, IMF leverage, and coordination of oil supplies — forced both governments into a humiliating retreat. The British prime minister resigned. The franc-zone collapsed. The episode marked the operational end of European great-power status. Total elapsed time from invasion to capitulation: approximately eight weeks. Suez is the geometry of rapid economic capitulation under coordinated financial pressure from peer states. Its modern analog would be a Saudi-Chinese-Russian-Indian coordination — backed by a EU-quiet acquiescence — that uses oil pricing, dollar reserves, and IMF mechanisms to force the United States to accept terms quickly. Probability for this case: low, but non-zero. The instrument exists. The political will is what’s missing.

The Korea Geometry. The Korean War ended in 1953 with an armistice that froze hostilities along the line where the fighting had reached, but produced no formal peace treaty. Seventy-three years later, there is still no peace treaty. The Korean Peninsula is still functionally at war. The United States retains a military commitment that has cost trillions of dollars and required permanent forward deployment for three generations. North Korea consolidated its regime, built an economy oriented around resistance to the United States, and eventually acquired nuclear weapons. Korea is the geometry of frozen conflict that becomes the indefinite operating reality. No one wins. No one loses publicly. The war becomes the wallpaper. The Iran analog would be an indefinite Hormuz tension that periodically flares into kinetic exchanges, a permanent US naval presence in the Gulf, no formal settlement on the nuclear or missile programs, no return to anything that looks like the pre-2026 status quo, and a generation of sailors and aviators who pull rotations into a theater that never quite stabilizes.

This is, in my reading, the modal outcome.

The Vietnam Geometry. The United States escalated in Vietnam from 1965 to 1968, peaked at half a million troops, and spent the subsequent five years negotiating an exit while continuing to fight at reduced intensity. The 1973 Paris Peace Accords — celebrated at the time as a Nixon achievement — established a framework that everyone involved understood would not survive contact with reality. The framework collapsed in 1975. Saigon fell. The South Vietnamese state we had spent a decade constructing was extinguished in three weeks. Total elapsed time from peak commitment to ally collapse: approximately seven years. Vietnam is the geometry of protracted withdrawal under the formal cover of an agreement everyone knows is fictional, followed by ally collapse and public humiliation. The Iran analog would be a face-saving framework signed in 2027 or 2028, declared a victory, immediately violated, defended through reduced operations, and ultimately abandoned in 2030 or 2031 as the next administration discovered it had inherited an unwinnable war and chose to be the one not holding the bag when the room cleared.

The Iraq Geometry. The 2003 invasion produced rapid kinetic success, followed by an insurgency that the U.S. neither anticipated nor was structured to suppress. After eight years of attritional combat, the United States exited under terms set by the Iraqi government — not Washington — in 2011. The state we had built collapsed within three years to a successor adversary (ISIS) we had not previously identified. The region's geopolitical position was, by 2014, demonstrably worse for U.S. interests than it had been in 2002. Iraq is the geometry of kinetic victory without political resolution, eight-year attritional cost, exit on the host nation’s terms, and successor instability that consumes the next decade. The Iran analog here is murkier because Iran is not a country we are occupying — but the principle holds: kinetic operations that do not produce political resolution metastasize into instability the war’s authors did not anticipate, and the cost of that instability is paid for the subsequent decade by people who did not vote for it.

The Afghanistan Geometry. Twenty years. Trillions of dollars. The collapse of the Afghan state we built in eleven days when we left. Ghani in a helicopter. Saigon images replayed for a generation that had not been alive for the original Saigon images. Afghanistan is the geometry of indefinite extension because no political actor wants to be the one who acknowledges the loss, only to face a total reversal when the political cost of continuation finally exceeds the political cost of admission. The Iran analog would be a war that continues at low intensity through the rest of the Trump administration and into the next, never quite resolved, never quite ended, until some future president — Republican or Democrat — accepts the political damage of being the one to end it on Iran’s terms.

In my reading of the data, the probability distribution across these five has Korea as the base case. Vietnam is the second-most likely. Afghanistan is plausible but requires multiple administrations to extend the runway. Iraqi elements appear in any scenario in which Iran’s regional militia network destabilizes the post-conflict environment. Suez is the low-probability rapid case — and the case the energy markets are quietly pricing as a tail.

The combined probability that the United States ends this war in the win column — actual political control over Iran’s nuclear program, ballistic missile arsenal, and Strait of Hormuz access on terms Washington defines — is something close to zero. The only debate is which loss template we end up in, and the data currently point to a hybrid of Korea and Vietnam with an Iraq risk overhang.

How the Loss Arrives, and How Long It Takes

Notice what is conspicuously absent from any of the five geometries: Iranian troops in Washington. Iranian missiles striking Manhattan. Iranian agents declaring victory at the U.S. Capitol. The loss does not arrive that way because Iran does not need to defeat the United States to defeat the United States. Iran needs only to refuse to lose for as long as the cost of continuation exceeds the political tolerance of the country trying to win.

That is the part Americans, conditioned by World War II memory, structurally fail to understand. The wars we have fought since 1945 have not been wars of conquest. They have been wars of compellence — wars in which the United States possessed overwhelming kinetic superiority but lacked the political tolerance to apply it at the scale required to compel capitulation. In every such war, against every such adversary, we have lost. North Korea. North Vietnam. Iraq. Afghanistan. The Houthis. The Taliban. The pattern is so consistent that it has its own name in the strategic studies literature, and the name is “the small-power victory through asymmetric endurance,” and Iran has spent forty years studying this literature with a discipline the Pentagon has spent forty years pretending was insignificant.

The mechanism by which the loss arrives is therefore not military. It is economic, financial, and political. It looks like this:

Brent crude has been trading between $100 and $114 a barrel for the past several weeks, with spike risk to $150 if Hormuz disruption extends, per JPMorgan’s late-April note. The IEA estimates the war has removed roughly fourteen million barrels per day from global supply. That is twice the size of the 1973 embargo. U.S. distillate inventories are eleven percent below the five-year average. U.S. jet fuel days-of-supply is forecast at twenty-one — the lowest reading since 1963. Illinois farm diesel is at $4.60 per gallon, up forty-five percent since the war began. Illinois urea fertilizer is at $1,123 per ton, up 55% since the war began, and the three-to-six-month lag between farm input costs and grocery prices means the consumer impact will be felt in mid-to-late 2026 and the 2027 crop year, regardless of what happens politically.

These numbers tell you something specific. They tell you that the buffer system — the global oil and food infrastructure that produces the cheap energy and cheap calories that the post-1980 American standard of living quietly depends on — has been forced into emergency operation, that the IEA has executed the largest coordinated reserve release in its history (four hundred million barrels, more than twice the 2022 Ukraine response), that the U.S. Strategic Petroleum Reserve is being drawn down at the planned discharge rate of roughly one and a half million barrels per day, and that even with all of that the system is producing 52% gasoline price inflation and shortages in South Africa, India, Thailand, and Taiwan.

The buffers are finite. The IEA release lasts approximately 120 days at the planned discharge. The SPR cannot be drawn below approximately 300 million barrels without compromising the structural integrity of the salt-cavern storage, which means we have perhaps 18 months of continuous high-rate drawdown before we hit the operational floor. Saudi spare capacity is, per RBC’s Helima Croft, “really only sitting in Saudi Arabia, and that’s stuck behind closed Hormuz.” There is no fairy with additional barrels.

This is the mechanism. Not an Iranian victory. Buffer exhaustion. The Iranian strategy is straightforward: keep Hormuz contested long enough for the political cost of continuing the war in Washington to exceed the political cost of accepting Iranian terms. That cost arrives through gasoline prices, food inflation, regional shortages, alliance fracture (the UAE has already left OPEC and OPEC+; Saudi is probably next), dollar reserve currency erosion as Saudi-China yuan oil settlement accelerates, NATO cohesion degradation as European publics absorb the industrial cost of an American war they did not authorize, and ultimately domestic political collapse as Trump’s working-class coalition — the part of his base most exposed to grocery and gasoline inflation — discovers that the party that promised to lower prices has produced the largest cost-of-living increase in forty years.

The Iranians do not need to deliver a single additional military success to win this war. They need only to wait. They are aware of this. The Russians and Chinese, who have a substantial interest in seeing the American security architecture stress-tested without themselves bearing the cost, are aware of this. The Saudi crown prince, who is currently looking at a thirty-year horizon in which he has to decide whether his country’s security partner is the United States or someone else, is aware of this. The European publics, who are currently looking at industrial bills they cannot afford and asking why they are paying for an American war that was never explained to them, are aware of this.

The only people who appear unaware of this are the people running the war.

The timeline question — how long does it take? — is constrained by the buffers and accelerated by the political cycle. The buffers give us perhaps twelve to eighteen months before the financial pressure becomes structurally untenable. The political cycle gives us approximately the same window before the Republican coalition fractures on cost-of-living and the administration has to choose between accepting Iranian terms and watching its working majority collapse.

My estimate, given the data, is that the formal recognition of the loss — the moment at which the United States signs a framework agreement that Tehran can credibly call a victory — arrives between eighteen and thirty months from now. That is somewhere between the third quarter of 2027 and the second quarter of 2028. It will be called something else in the U.S. press. It will be presented as a triumph by whatever administration signs it. The Iranian regime will understand exactly what it is. So will the Saudis. So will the Chinese. So will the European industrial planners writing their 2030 budgets. So, eventually, will the public.

The consequences embed for decades. This is the part that matters more than the timeline, and the part the political class will be least willing to discuss.

What This Looks Like at the American Kitchen Table

The loss does not arrive as a flag-lowering ceremony in Tehran. There is no surrender deck. No Missouri. No newsreel footage of generals signing documents. The loss arrives as a permanent step-change in the cost of being an ordinary American family, and it arrives so quietly, line by line, that most of the people absorbing it will not recognize what they are looking at until the cumulative damage is already done.

Start with the grocery bill, because that is where most families first encounter the actual cost of a war they have not been told they are losing.

A typical American household of four currently spends somewhere between $1,100 and $1,400 per month on groceries, depending on region and habits. That number is about to move, and it is going to move durably. Illinois urea fertilizer is at $1,123 per ton, up fifty-five percent from pre-war levels. The three-to-six-month lag between farm input cost and grocery shelf price means the consumer impact embeds in the second half of 2026 and lands fully in the 2027 crop year. The agricultural economists at the University of Illinois are running models that project meaningful real food inflation locked in through 2028 even under optimistic scenarios about when the war ends. Beef will be hit hardest, because cattle are fed on corn grown with the urea that just doubled in price. Dairy follows. Then poultry. Then everything that sits in the freezer aisle. The meal you cooked last Tuesday for forty-two dollars in ingredients will cost fifty-six dollars by next year and stay there. Multiply that by every dinner. By every birthday party. By every Thanksgiving. The grocery line in the household budget moves up by two to four hundred dollars a month and does not come back down.

Then the fuel line. Retail gasoline is up fifty-two percent from pre-war levels, per AP reporting last week. Whatever you were paying in February — $3.20, $3.40, $3.50 — you are now paying close to five dollars, and in California you are paying north of six. The piece of this most people do not understand is that even when Brent settles, retail does not fully follow, because Valero’s Benicia refinery closed at the end of April and Phillips 66 in Los Angeles is on the same trajectory and the refining capacity that was retired during the war does not come back online when the war ends. California is functionally an island in the U.S. fuel market — limited pipeline access to the rest of the country — and California has just permanently lost a substantial portion of its in-state refining base. The retail gasoline price in the western United States embeds at a level meaningfully higher than 2025, and it embeds because the physical infrastructure that produced the lower price no longer exists.

The same logic runs through diesel, which is the fuel almost no household tracks but every household ultimately pays for. Illinois farm diesel is at $4.60 per gallon — up forty-five percent from late February. Diesel powers the eighteen-wheeler that brought the cereal to the supermarket, the tractor that planted the wheat in the cereal, the harvester that cut it, the train that hauled it to the mill, the truck that hauled it from the mill to the warehouse, the truck that hauled it from the warehouse to the store. Every step in that chain just got more expensive, and unlike gasoline — which is a discretionary product that families can ration through driving less — diesel is a structural cost that gets passed through to every physical good in the country. The shoes your daughter outgrew last month. The mattress you have been meaning to replace. The dishwasher that is starting to make that sound. The lumber for the deck repair. The insulation. The shingles. The HVAC service call. Every line item gets marked up because the diesel that delivered it costs forty-five percent more than it did in February, and a meaningful portion of that markup is permanent because the trucking companies and shipping companies and rail operators absorbing the cost have margins thinner than most homeowners realize and cannot eat the difference indefinitely. The thin-margin operators are already failing. The survivors will charge more.

Then the heating bill. Natural gas in the United States is structurally insulated from the worst of the Hormuz disruption — most U.S. gas is domestic — but propane, heating oil, and the export-linked LNG markets that set marginal pricing are not. New England, which gets a substantial portion of its winter heating fuel from imported LNG, is looking at a winter 2026-2027 heating season with prices the region has not seen since the early 2000s. The Midwest will see propane spikes. The retiree on a fixed income in Maine, who heats with oil, opens the December bill and discovers it is forty percent higher than last year. There is no version of this where she chooses not to pay.

Then the insurance bill. Homeowners insurance has been climbing at five-to-fifteen percent annual rates for several years, driven by climate exposure and reinsurance dynamics that are independent of the war. The war accelerates this. Reinsurance markets are recalibrating war-risk premiums across global shipping — premiums for Hormuz transit went from 0.125% to between 0.2% and 0.4% of vessel hull value before the strait even closed, and they are now substantially higher — and the same actuarial logic that prices maritime risk is now repricing every other category of risk that involves global supply chains, energy infrastructure, and geopolitical uncertainty. Homeowners premiums move up. Auto premiums move up. Health insurance moves up because pharmaceutical supply chains run through India and China and the diesel-cost passthrough hits every shipment. The umbrella policy you forgot you had moves up. The Florida household that was paying $4,200 a year for homeowners coverage in 2024 is paying $6,800 by 2027, and the household in Louisiana is being non-renewed entirely.

Then the credit environment. The cost-of-living shock the Iran war is producing is not transitory. It is structural. The Federal Reserve, whatever its political pressure to cut rates, cannot ease aggressively into an environment where the underlying inflation is supply-side and persistent. That means rates stay elevated for longer than the markets expect — and meaningfully longer than the political class wants. Mortgage rates in the seven-to-eight percent range become the durable reality rather than the temporary anomaly. Auto loan rates follow. Credit card APRs that briefly touched twenty-five percent in 2024 do not retreat; they extend. The household that budgeted on the assumption that rates would normalize back to the 2010s baseline discovers it has budgeted for a world that is not coming back. The young couple looking at their first home at a median price of $420,000 with a 7.5% mortgage faces a monthly payment that is forty percent higher in real terms than what their parents paid for the same square footage. They do not buy. They rent. The rental market, which is itself absorbing the cost-pass-through from landlords paying higher insurance and higher maintenance and higher financing costs, raises prices anyway.

Then the small business layer, which is where the political consequences begin to compound. Roughly thirty-three million small businesses operate in the United States. A meaningful fraction of them survived the 2020-2024 period — pandemic, supply chain disruption, labor cost inflation, interest rate normalization — by the thinnest of margins. They held on because they believed the disruptions were temporary. They are not. The restaurant operating at six percent margin discovers that food costs up fifteen percent and labor costs up four percent and energy costs up twenty percent and insurance up eighteen percent does not produce six percent margin anymore. It produces zero. Then negative. The owner closes. The town loses the restaurant. The fourteen jobs disappear. The landlord loses the tenant. The supplier loses the account. The CPA loses the client. Multiply this across the country. The Main Street infrastructure that visibly defines what a community looks like begins to thin out — not all at once, but in a steady erosion that becomes obvious only when you drive through a town you have not visited in three years and notice how many storefronts are dark.

Then the retirement layer, which is where the generational fracture finally becomes undeniable. The baby boomer cohort retiring now built portfolios on assumptions that no longer hold. The four percent withdrawal rule was constructed in a 1990s interest rate and inflation environment. It assumed a roughly 2.5% long-term inflation rate. The post-war world I am describing has structural inflation closer to four to five percent for several years, possibly longer. The retiree who designed a thirty-year withdrawal plan in 2018 — and stress-tested it against 2022’s brief inflation spike — discovers that the plan does not survive three or four years of compounded five percent cost increases. The portfolio that was supposed to last to age ninety-three lasts to age eighty-four. The retirement that was supposed to include travel, grandchildren’s tuition help, the lake house, the dignity of not being a burden, becomes the retirement of slowly returning to the workforce in roles that pay a fraction of what the retiree last earned. The seventy-three-year-old at Home Depot in the orange apron is not a stereotype. He is a leading indicator. There will be more of him.

Then the children. The seventeen-year-old looking at college in 2027 is looking at tuition that has been rising at six percent annually for two decades against a family income that has just been hit with a permanent cost-of-living step. The financial aid math that worked for her older brother in 2022 does not work for her. The state university that was the affordable option costs forty-two thousand dollars a year fully loaded, which the family cannot service without taking on debt that consumes the parents’ retirement contributions and the daughter’s first decade of post-graduation income. The private university is mathematically unavailable. The trade school that the parents were told for thirty years was the inferior option becomes the only option that does not extract a generational cost. The four-year degree quietly becomes a class marker again, in a way it has not been since the 1950s.

This is what losing a war looks like in a country that does not need to be physically occupied to be defeated. It does not look like Tehran on the news. It looks like the line item on the credit card statement for the grocery store you have been going to for fifteen years, which is now charging you a hundred and ninety dollars for what used to cost a hundred and forty. It looks like the heating bill you open in December and put on the counter and stare at without putting it back into the envelope. It looks like the conversation with your spouse about whether you can still afford the family vacation you took every year of your kids’ childhood. It looks like the call from your daughter about the financial aid letter that is twelve thousand dollars short. It looks like your father, on the phone, mentioning that his Medicare supplement just went up again and asking if it would be a burden if he came to stay with you for a while because the heating bill is more than his Social Security check now allows.

It is the inverse of the post-1945 American settlement. Instead of a country emerging from a war wealthier, more powerful, and with its institutions reinforced, the country emerges from this war poorer, less influential, and with its institutions visibly less capable than when the war began. The settlement of 1945 made the suburbs possible, made the interstates possible, made the GI Bill possible, made the long American middle class possible. The settlement of 2028 — whatever it is called, however it is announced — does the opposite. It does not produce a generation of homeowners. It produces a generation of renters. It does not produce expanded access to higher education. It produces a quiet reallocation of who gets the four-year degree. It does not produce institutional confidence. It produces the slow-burning cynicism of a country that watched its leaders start a war they could not finish and then watched them spend the next ten years explaining why losing it was actually a strategic accomplishment.

The families I have spent the last two years working with — the ones reading this newsletter, building optionality, examining residency programs in jurisdictions outside the dollar zone — have already absorbed this analysis without anyone formally presenting it to them. They have been watching the buffers run down in real time. They have been calculating their exposure to a strategic petroleum reserve they do not control, a refining capacity they cannot expand, an alliance system they cannot rebuild, and a political class that will spend the next three years explaining why the loss is actually a victory. They have decided not to wait for the formal recognition. The smartest of them moved before February 28, 2026. Most of the rest are moving now. The window in which optionality remains affordable, available, and discreet is open. It will not stay open indefinitely. It rarely does. (quietdeparture.com)

The Reckoning

The war did not begin on February 28, 2026. The war began the day the United States stopped building the systems that would have allowed it to win wars like this one — when it stopped building refineries in 1977, stopped maintaining reserve refining capacity through the 1990s, allowed the strategic petroleum reserve to be drawn down for political price-management, permitted alliance maintenance to atrophy through three decades of bipartisan neglect, replaced industrial policy with financial engineering, and produced an officer corps and political class that genuinely believed the country could fight a war of compellence against a regional power with nuclear-adjacent capability and global proxy networks at acceptable cost.

That war — the long war against the country’s own structural decay — began somewhere between 1973 and 1979. The Iran war is the moment when the long war became visible.

Losing the kinetic war is the proximate event. Losing the long war is what the kinetic war reveals. We are not going to be defeated by Iran. We are going to be defeated by the fact that we spent forty years optimizing for a kind of cheap that required the buffers to hold, and the buffers are not holding, and the country that emerges from the next thirty months is going to have to learn how to live inside the cost of what it actually is, instead of the cost of what it pretended to be.

The flag does not come down. The Air Force does not surrender. There is no ceremony. Tehran does not get a parade.

What happens is quieter and more durable. The country signs an agreement it claims is a victory. The price of food embeds at a higher level. The price of fuel remains high. The Saudis and the UAE and the Indians and the Brazilians and eventually the Europeans will build the alternative arrangements they have been postponing for a decade. The dollar continues its long, slow demotion from sole reserve currency to first among several. The next Republican administration discovers that the foreign policy tools its predecessors took for granted are no longer there. The next Democratic administration discovers the same thing. American voters, who do not read foreign policy journals, register the change as inflation, decline, and a pervasive sense that the country is not what it used to be. They will be correct. The country is not what it used to be. It has not been, for some time. The war merely made it impossible to avoid noticing.

The question for anyone reading this is not whether the loss is coming. The loss is the data. The loss is the buffers. The loss is the Brent curve. The loss is the urea price in Illinois. The loss is the UAE walking out of OPEC three months into a regional war the cartel was supposed to stabilize.

The question is what you have built, in the eighteen to thirty months between now and the formal recognition, that does not depend on the country you used to live in still being there when the recognition arrives.

That is not a rhetorical question.

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Force is not power.

I wrote that two years ago. I meant it as a provocation.

The Iran war has turned it into a description.

Strategic authority is the capacity to produce durable political outcomes that reflect your interests, in cooperation with others, over time. It derives from legitimacy — others believe your authority is appropriate. From credibility — others believe your commitments are real and your capabilities are matched to your intentions. From the coalition, others choose to align with you because of what they gain from it. And from institutional coherence, you can hold a position and enforce it consistently.

Force is one input to strategic authority. It is not a substitute for it.

The United States has the most powerful military force in the history of organized violence. It also has declining strategic authority. These two facts are not contradictory. They are causally related. The systematic substitution of force for the harder and slower work of legitimacy, credibility, coalition-building, and institutional coherence has eroded the authority that once made American power function.

You can bomb a nuclear program. The question is what you produce by bombing it, and whether that product serves your strategic interests.

Vietnam was the first demonstration of the failure of this model at scale. The US applied enormous force to a small country for a decade. The outcome was not order. It was a strategic defeat, purchased at the cost of 58,000 American lives, the destruction of an entire nation, the fracturing of domestic political consensus, and the permanent association of American military power with a specific category of failure.

The lesson was not learned.

Iraq, 2003. Enormous force. A government destroyed. A vacuum that produced the Islamic State, a collapsed state, and a regional realignment toward Iranian influence that persists today. The country we invaded to eliminate an Iranian buffer became an Iranian client. The cost: $2 trillion, 4,400 American military deaths, hundreds of thousands of Iraqi civilian deaths, and the complete exhaustion of American credibility in the region for a generation.

Afghanistan. Twenty years. $2.3 trillion. The Taliban controls Kabul. The government we built survived our departure by approximately as long as it took us to leave.

Each of these was a demonstration of what happens when force is substituted for the patient construction of strategic authority. Outcomes are produced. They are simply not the outcomes intended. The category error is consistent. So are the results.

The war in Iran is the logical endpoint of this trajectory.

Iran has been the strategic objective of American regional policy for forty-five years. The hostage crisis, the proxy conflicts, the sanctions architecture, the assassination campaigns, the covert nuclear sabotage — the entire structure of US-Iran relations is built on the premise that sufficient pressure, applied over sufficient time, will produce Iranian capitulation or internal collapse.

It produced neither. It produced a nuclear program, a hardened regime, a sophisticated proxy network across the region, and an Iranian leadership with decades of experience operating under maximum American pressure without capitulating. The sanctions regime that was supposed to bankrupt them funded their adaptation. The military pressure that was supposed to fracture their coalition solidified Iranian domestic support for the security state.

The current military engagement is the same theory extended to its kinetic conclusion. We are applying more force because the previous amounts of force didn’t work. The theory has not been reconsidered. The dosage has been increased.

This is not a strategy. It is an escalation of a failed model by people who have not updated their model.

There is an honest question buried in all of this: what would strategic authority look like for the United States in 2026? After Iraq, after Afghanistan, after four decades of demonstrated failure to convert force into a durable regional order, after the institutional decoherence that collapsed the Geneva talks before they could produce anything — what is the alternative?

That question doesn’t have an easy answer. I don’t pretend to have one. But it cannot be addressed while the category error is still functioning as doctrine, while the system still operates as if force and authority are the same thing and the only variable is magnitude.

The bill for four decades of this confusion is denominated in American lives, American fiscal capacity, American credibility, and the American ability to construct the regional and global arrangements on which American prosperity and security have depended since 1945.

It is a large bill.
It is being presented now.

P.S. — The strategic and institutional analysis above is one side of the ledger. The other — what individuals and families do in response to a country whose foreign policy has become structurally incapable of producing the outcomes it claims to pursue — is what I write about at Borderless Living. That’s where the operational thinking lives.

The Iran war is six (almost seven) weeks old. The Strait of Hormuz has been functionally closed to Western shipping for most of that time. The US and Iran held twenty-one hours of face-to-face talks in Islamabad last weekend — the highest-level direct engagement between the two countries since the 1979 revolution — and produced nothing. The Vice President flew home. The President threatened a naval blockade on Fox News. The ceasefire expires in ten days. No next round has been scheduled.

The analysis you’ll read almost everywhere frames this as a bilateral problem: American demands too maximalist, Iranian concessions too few, the gap too wide. Both sides need to find their way to a deal. Pakistan is still trying. Maybe Oman can help. Maybe China can apply pressure.

That framing is wrong. And getting it wrong means you can’t see what actually just happened.

Iran is not the binding variable.

The United States has the military capability to compel either of the available outcomes. It can convert its military advantage into unconditional Iranian surrender — ugly, millions dead, oil at $300 a barrel, world economic recession, if not perhaps outright economic collapse, but achievable. Or it can negotiate a deal that both sides can live with — nuclear program constrained but not eliminated, Hormuz reopened under some face-saving framework, sanctions lifted incrementally. Neither outcome requires Iranian cooperation as the primary input. Both require American decision-making as the primary input.

The US has made neither decision. It is executing a third option — theatrical belligerence with no commitment to either endpoint — that is not a strategy. It is an absence of one.

This matters enormously because the standard analytical frameworks for great power competition assume rational unit behavior. Kenneth Waltz’s structural realism: states balance against power, the system self-corrects, the capable survive. John Mearsheimer’s offensive realism: great powers compete relentlessly for advantage; someone is always positioned to fill the vacuum. Hans Morgenthau’s classical framework: states pursue national interest defined in terms of power, and the capable ones know what they want and move toward it.

Every one of these models shares the same underlying architectural assumption: the state is a unitary rational actor. The black box. You don’t need to look inside.

What’s breaking those models right now is that the inside of the box matters.

The analogy that fits is not a declining hegemon. It’s a self-inflicted default.

Think of it this way. For eighty years, the United States was the fastest runner on the track. Not just fast — it set the rules, built the track, guaranteed the results. Every other competitor planned their strategy around the assumption that the American runner would keep running until it slowed, until a challenger overtook it, until the natural succession of hegemonic power that historians have documented across five centuries played out on schedule.

Nobody planned for the fastest runner putting a bullet in his own brain at the starting line.

That’s not a metaphor for weakness. The capability is still there. The military still works. The aircraft carriers are in the water. The dollar still denominates somewhere between $100 and $120 trillion in private global debt and economic activity — roughly the GDP of the entire planet. The institutional infrastructure of American financial primacy is so deeply embedded that it will outlast any single presidency and probably any single decade of mismanagement.

The guns work. The money works. The story doesn’t.

Charles Kindleberger argued in the 1970s — as British hegemony finally completed its long decline — that the international economic order requires a stabilizer. Not just a powerful country. A stabilizer: a hegemon willing to maintain the system even at short-term cost to itself. Open markets when others close them. Provide liquidity when others hoard it. Guarantee maritime security when others won’t pay for it. When the stabilizer stops stabilizing — not because it can’t but because it won’t — the system doesn’t find a replacement. It becomes unstable. Nobody stepped in fast enough between British and American hegemony, and the result was the 1930s.

His argument was about the Depression. It applies with uncomfortable precision to the Strait of Hormuz in April 2026.

The proof of concept is now in the record.

Here is what the last six weeks demonstrated to every maritime chokepoint actor on the planet: a medium-sized regional power can close twenty percent of global energy supply, absorb six weeks of strikes from the most capable military in human history, and walk into peace talks demanding sovereignty over the strait as an opening position. The explicit guarantor of freedom of navigation since 1945 couldn’t reopen it. Sent destroyers in for mine clearance and Iran threatened to sink them. The ceasefire that was supposed to reopen the strait produced four ships a day through a waterway that normally moves a hundred and thirty.

That is not a Hormuz story. It is a Malacca story. A Bab-el-Mandeb story. A Taiwan Strait story. Every actor with geography and a grievance just watched the tutorial and took notes.

The yuan-denominated transit arrangement that emerged as an emergency workaround — ships transiting under Chinese flag, settling in yuan — is the detail most people are missing. That didn’t get invented for this crisis. It got normalized by this crisis. The workaround became infrastructure. Infrastructure is almost impossible to unwind because too many parties build dependencies on it before anyone notices.

Why is nothing ready to fill the vacuum?

Because the vacuum wasn’t supposed to exist yet. This is a truly unique moment in international affairs.

China has been running a thirty-year positioning game. Belt and Road, yuan internationalization, parallel institutions — all of it premised on a 2040-2050 handoff, a gradual American decline that would provide enough runway to build the replacement architecture. They are not ready for 2026. Their financial system isn’t deep enough. Their navy can’t project blue-water power at the required scale. Their diplomatic relationships are transactional, not institutional. They built leverage, not leadership.

Russia is a gas station with nuclear weapons that briefly convinced itself it was an empire.

The EU spent six weeks calling for restraint and scheduling calls with Pezeshkian.

Nobody was ready because American durability was the single most underestimated variable in every competitor’s planning model. The system was so robust for so long that even its intended replacements assumed it would hold long enough for them to prepare.

It didn’t. And they weren’t.

Here’s where the “incompetent moron” explanation breaks down.

The easy read of this situation is stupidity. And I understand the appeal. The evidence for catastrophic incompetence is substantial and daily.

But stupidity is actually the more comforting diagnosis, because stupidity implies a fix. Replace the decision-maker, restore the competence, resume normal programming. If the mechanism is an idiot at the controls, the solution is a smarter pilot.

The harder and more accurate diagnosis is this: the toolkit is wrong for the situation, and the person running it doesn’t know it.

There is a coherent strategic logic underneath what you’re watching. It’s a real estate closing playbook: open with maximalist demands, perform an elaborate failure to reach agreement, then claim victory when you settle for something substantially less. It has worked before. It is not an irrational approach in the contexts where it has been applied.

The problem is that it requires a specific kind of counterparty — one who understands privately that the performance is theater, can quietly signal their willingness to accept the lesser outcome, and has enough internal political control to deliver on that signal when the moment comes.

Iran cannot be that counterparty. The SNSC cannot be seen publicly accepting American terms any more than the American president can be seen publicly accepting Iranian terms. Both parties need to win the scene. Two performers who both need to win the scene cannot make a deal. They can only improvise, escalate, and de-escalate in cycles until something external forces resolution — or until the ceasefire window closes and the war resumes.

This is not brain death. It is a category error. The tools aren’t wrong because the people are stupid. They’re wrong because the situation doesn’t fit the toolkit and nobody in the room has a different one.

That distinction matters enormously. Stupidity is a medical condition. A category error at the civilizational scale is a structural failure — it survives the individual, it implicates the entire system that produced and deployed him, and it raises the question that nobody in Washington is asking: even with a competent successor, does the institutional capacity for genuine statecraft still exist? Or has it atrophied beyond recovery during the decades when we didn’t need it?

I don’t know the answer to that question. I don’t think anyone does. What I know is that the question is now live in a way it wasn’t on February 27th.

The mechanism that keeps this going.

Here is the trap, stated plainly.

The annihilation option is foreclosed — not by morality but by economics. Oil at $300 a barrel doesn’t stay in the Middle East. It lands on grocery receipts, heating bills, and the polling numbers of the person who ordered the strike.

Arguendo, if we presume we don’t even care about the untold hundreds of thousands that would need to die to compel Iran’s surrender, the political cost of winning completely is too high.

The deal option is foreclosed — not by Iranian intransigence but by the decision-maker's identity logic. Agreeing to anything is a weakness. Weakness is existential. You do not make deals. You win deals, or you perform winning them, or you find someone else to blame for not having them.

So the third option — which is not a strategy, it is the absence of choosing — becomes the only available move. Threaten. Almost-deal. Extend the ceasefire. Blame Iran. Repeat.

The cost of the third option is real but slow and diffuse. Hormuz moves twelve ships a day instead of a hundred and thirty. The yuan infrastructure hardens a little more. The allied relationships have been damaged since February and are recalibrating a little further toward self-reliance. The eighty-year guarantee becomes a little less credible to the people who depended on it most.

None of that lands on one person’s desk on one morning in a way that forces a decision. It distributes across the global economy in basis points, recalibrates trade routes, and quietly renegotiates bilateral arrangements. It is catastrophic in aggregate and invisible in any given week.

Kindleberger’s Depression analogy holds here too. The dollar system didn’t collapse in 1931. It became progressively less able to do what it was supposed to do until the damage was irreversible and the cost of repair was a world war.

The fuse is lit. Not because Iran won. Not because China is ready. Because the stabilizer quit — not under pressure, not through decline, but through the specific and compounding failure of a democratic system that selected the wrong toolkit at the worst possible moment, for the most banal possible reasons.

But alas, the price of eggs was too high.

So here we are. Our birthrights sold for a bowl of pottage.

The question now is not how the war in Iran ends. The question is what kind of world exists after it ends — and whether you’ve built anything that doesn’t depend on the answer being good.

For those already thinking through what that means personally — the Borderless Living community has been mapping this territory for two years. The conversation is here.

You’ve probably seen it by now.

“He’s going to use nukes.”

It’s everywhere—group chats, cable panels, Substack comments. In about 12 hours, the conversation jumped from “this is getting serious” to “we’re about to cross the line.”

I understand why.

When you hear language like “a whole civilization will die tonight,” your brain doesn’t file that under normal escalation. It jumps to the worst-case scenario—because that’s what the words imply.

Two days ago, I said something similar. I did exactly what everyone is doing today. That I was increasingly concerned we might be positioning to do something reckless. That the rhetoric we were hearing was not normal. And that we should not comfort ourselves with the idea that “the system” would simply refuse an order if one were given.

That concern wasn’t irrational. I still have it.

But there’s a difference between rhetoric and posture. And if you want to understand what is actually likely to happen next, you have to look at the system—not just the words.

So I did.

How to Read a Crisis

First, let’s be clear about something.

This is not a reaction scenario. This isn’t “Madam Secretary” where someone bursts into the room and says, “900 warheads are inbound.”

This would be first use.

That means we control the timeline. We control the escalation ladder.

That matters.

When governments prepare to cross a line like nuclear use, they don’t just say it.

The system shifts.

And those shifts leave patterns. They cannot be fully hidden, even if they are classified.

You see them in:

• force posture

• readiness levels

• personnel movement

• command and control behavior

• allied reactions

These are not subtle if you know what to look for. They don’t show up as press releases—but they show up as alignment.

Multiple parts of the system begin moving in the same direction simultaneously.

That’s the signal.

And given what was said this morning, I started looking to see whether anything actually aligned with the rhetoric.

It isn’t.

A Note on “Madman” Signaling

One thing that isn’t widely understood outside of policy circles is what the so-called “madman doctrine” actually requires.

It requires credibility.

Not just words—observable behavior.

During the Nixon era, U.S. signaling didn’t just consist of rhetoric. It included bomber dispersals, troop movements, and posture changes that other nuclear powers—especially the Soviets—could see.

The Vietnamese largely ignored it.

The Soviets didn’t.

Because they could observe the system.

That’s the point:

Systems align before they move.

That’s not to say the worst couldn’t happen, but it does say that right now we don’t seem to be planning for it.

What That Signal Looks Like

If the United States were seriously preparing for nuclear use, you would expect to see a different world than the one I observe.

Not theatrics. Not headlines.

Behavior.

Things like:

• Force generation and dispersal — aircraft repositioning, naval surge patterns

• Personnel posture changes — leave cancellations, recalls, activation signals

• Sustained survivability measures — not a single airborne command platform, but persistent redundancy

• Broader readiness alignment — multiple commands shifting posture in concert

• Government-wide reaction — not concern, but visible preparation

These things leave traces.

They always do.

And right now, that pattern is not consistent with the idea of imminent nuclear use.

What Is Present

That doesn’t mean nothing is happening.

Quite the opposite.

The United States appears to be positioned for expanded conventional strikes—potentially large ones, potentially including infrastructure, and potentially with consequences we will regret.

We have assembled a significant force in the region. We have activated supporting elements. We have positioned ourselves for escalation.

The rhetoric, meanwhile, has escalated to a level that suggests system-level pressure—not just tactical objectives.

And that combination matters.

Because it creates a different kind of risk.

The Mismatch

Right now, we have a mismatch between:

• Language — totalizing, civilizational, absolute

• Posture — still bounded within a conventional framework

That gap is unstable.

Not because it means we are about to go nuclear.

But because it means:

The constraints that normally shape decision-making are being rhetorically eroded, even as the system itself has not crossed the threshold.

That is how countries drift into outcomes they did not explicitly plan.

Some of you have noted that the E-4 was moved to Andrews.

Under normal circumstances, when rhetoric and posture align, that wouldn’t stand out. But here, the concern is being driven by a mismatch—people hear “end of civilization” and then see survivability assets move.

That leads to a false conclusion.

E-4 does not mean “end of the world.”

The disconnect is this:

The rhetoric sounds apocalyptic. The system does not.

The Real Risk

There’s a tendency, especially online, to collapse everything into a single fear:

Nuclear war.

But that’s not the most likely failure mode here.

The more immediate danger is more familiar—and, in its own way, more likely:

• expanded strikes

• broader target sets

• increased tolerance for civilian impact

• decisions made under compressed timelines and maximalist language

In other words:

A conventional escalation executed under conditions where restraint is weakening.

You don’t need nuclear weapons to create catastrophic, irreversible consequences.

What This Means

Let me be precise.

I cannot tell you that nuclear use is impossible.

No one can.

But I can tell you this:

If the United States were seriously positioning for it, the system would look different from what it does right now.

What it looks like instead is something else:

A system preparing to hit hard—and potentially push further than it should.

If I were observing this from the outside, that would be my conclusion—with a medium-to-high degree of confidence, based on observable signals in intelligence channels.

Final Thought

The danger isn’t that we suddenly jump to the worst-case scenario.

It’s that we convince ourselves we’re still operating within limits—

right up until the moment we’re not.

That’s the real risk.

And let me be clear about something:

If the United States does “unleash hell” and begins systematically striking power plants, water systems, bridges, and civilian infrastructure, the human consequences will be enormous.

We don’t need nuclear weapons for that.

We just need to stop exercising restraint and good judgment.

I think that’s what people are really afraid of.

P.S. If I’m reading the tea leaves incorrectly, well, the Borderless Living Q&A will, regrettably, be canceled due to incineration.
The good news is: I suspect I’ll still be doing a briefing this weekend.
But again, in the off chance I’m wrong, thanks for subscribing. I’ll see those who survive in the mineshafts. (Mein Führer! I CAN WALK!)

There was no vote. No debate. No authorization from the body constitutionally charged with declaring war.

The strikes launched on February 28th — Operation Epic Fury, in case the branding wasn’t sufficiently cinematic — targeted the Iranian supreme leader’s compound, nuclear facilities, IRGC military bases, and what the Pentagon described as “command and control infrastructure” across multiple cities. Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei is dead. So are hundreds of others, including what Iranian officials say were schoolchildren in the southern city of Minab — a claim supported by circulating footage but not yet independently verified.

The Strait of Hormuz has effectively shut down. Tanker traffic is down sharply, several vessels have been damaged, and oil surged nearly 9% in a single day. Iranian missiles have struck targets across the Gulf. Airports have closed. Six American service members are dead in Kuwait. Three U.S. fighter jets were reportedly shot down in a friendly fire incident involving Kuwaiti defenses.

And a handful of congressional leaders got phone calls the night before.

The rest of Congress — and the rest of the country — found out after the bombs fell.

I’m not going to write the essay you expect.

I’m not going to argue whether the strikes were justified. I’m not going to litigate the intelligence, debate the morality of regime change, or parse whether Khamenei’s death makes the region safer or more dangerous. Those arguments matter, but others will make them.

What I want to name is something quieter and more corrosive.

The Justification That Isn’t One

Secretary of State Marco Rubio stood before cameras and said there “absolutely was an imminent threat.” The administration’s argument was that the United States acted preemptively because Israel was preparing to strike Iran, and if Israel struck Iran, Iran might retaliate against American forces.

Follow the logic carefully.

We attacked Iran because we believed someone else might attack Iran, which might provoke Iran to attack us.

This is not a justification.

It is a sequence of assumptions presented as inevitability.

Congressional staff briefed after the strikes reportedly said there was no intelligence indicating Iran was preparing a direct attack on U.S. forces. The administration’s own timeline — a ten-day ultimatum issued on February 20th, followed by military action when negotiations in Geneva produced no satisfactory result on February 28th — suggests not an imminent threat, but impatience.

But here is the part that should concern you more than the strike itself.

It doesn’t matter.

Whether the justification holds is almost beside the point, because the institutional architecture designed to evaluate it before missiles launched has effectively disappeared.

The War Powers Resolution still exists. Congressional authorization still exists. The constitutional separation of powers still exists.

On paper.

But last Friday demonstrated something important: those constraints were not overridden.

They were ignored.

Not because they were repealed, but because nothing happens when they are.

That is what institutional permission collapse looks like.

Not dramatic constitutional crises.

Just rules that no longer impose consequences.

The Precedent Chain

Permission structures rarely collapse all at once. They erode through precedent.

Each time an executive acts without authorization and nothing happens — no legal challenge, no meaningful congressional response, no political consequence — the boundary moves.

Not in law.

In practice.

George W. Bush expanded the war on terror into a global authorization framework. Barack Obama used that framework to conduct an air campaign in Libya without congressional approval. Donald Trump ordered the strike that killed Iranian General Qassem Soleimani in 2020 without new authorization.

Each decision stretched the effective limits of executive war-making.

Each time, the system absorbed the precedent.

But there is a meaningful difference between targeted military strikes and the opening phase of a regime-change war against a sovereign state — striking its capital, killing its head of state, and initiating a conflict that immediately ripples across global energy markets and regional security architecture.

The distance between those two things is not trivial.

It is the difference between testing a boundary and discovering there is no boundary left.

And once the system demonstrates that an individual can initiate military conflict of this scale without prior authorization, the specific target almost ceases to matter.

The mechanism is the story.

The Cascade You’re About to Feel

The first consequences are already visible.

The Strait of Hormuz — through which roughly one-fifth of the world’s oil supply moves — is effectively disrupted. Energy markets responded immediately. Analysts are now modeling oil prices well above $100 per barrel if the closure persists.

Those price increases will not stay confined to energy markets.

They will move through transportation costs, food prices, and inflation data with mechanical predictability. Within weeks, they will show up at gas stations. Within months, they will appear in economic indicators that shape fiscal policy and interest rates.

Meanwhile, missile exchanges across the Gulf have forced airport closures and disrupted energy infrastructure in a region Americans increasingly treat as a stable financial hub. The UAE, Qatar, and Bahrain are now intercepting drones and ballistic missiles while attempting to keep critical export infrastructure online.

None of these consequences required public consent.

None required congressional authorization.

A decision made by a single node in the system triggered a cascade across energy, financial, and geopolitical risk structures affecting hundreds of millions of people.

That is not how constitutional governance was supposed to function.

A system in which one actor can trigger global consequences of this magnitude without institutional review is not one operating under meaningful constraints.

It is a system operating without a governor.

What the Machine Showed You

I write about institutions because I believe — perhaps stubbornly — that understanding how systems actually function matters.

People make decisions based on how they think the machine works.

But every so often, the machine reveals itself plainly.

This week was one of those moments.

A war began without congressional authorization. The justification was delivered afterward. The consequences are now propagating through global markets and regional security structures, whether the public agrees with the decision or not.

The debate over whether this particular strike was wise will continue for months.

But the deeper question is simpler.

If the institutional architecture that once constrained these decisions no longer operates in practice, then the most consequential risk Americans face is not a specific war abroad.

It is the realization that the system making those decisions no longer functions the way it was taught to believe.

The pattern that produced this week did not begin last Friday.

And there is no reason to believe it ends here.

The masses love a war the way parishioners love a sermon — especially when it promises redemption without repentance.

Strike the wicked.
Cleanse the evil.
Restore the moral order.

The Ayatollah has been dispatched, and the television preachers of geopolitics are practically speaking in tongues. The Republic has flexed. Decisive action. Somewhere, a producer is booking the same retired generals for the fifteenth time this month.

And of course, the scribblers are already at work. By tonight, you’ll have received nine hundred Substack homilies — extolling it, condemning it, “contextualizing” it — each one longer than the last, each one more certain than the next. Endless moral laundering. Endless introspection. An orgy of adjectives pretending to be strategy.

What you will not get — what we almost never do — is the only question that matters:

What incentives did we just rewrite for the rest of the planet?

I have no affection for the Ayatollah.

If the Islamic Republic sank tomorrow into the geological record, I would sleep like the dead. The regime has strangled eighty-eight million people for nearly half a century. The Revolutionary Guard is not a misunderstood civic club. I remember 444 days. I remember Beirut. I remember IEDs stamped in Farsi and folded into American convoys like death notes.

I am not arguing for Iran.

I am arguing that we have detonated our own strategic leverage in a fit of moral theater.

And the consequences are not philosophical.

They are structural.

The Fatal Incentive Shift

Here is the part that should terrify anyone who understands how states actually behave:

We have just demonstrated — again — that negotiating away your nuclear program is a prelude to being bombed, and possessing a nuclear weapon is the only durable guarantee of regime survival.

This is not rhetoric. It is pattern recognition.

• Gaddafi surrendered his nuclear program. He died in a drainage ditch.

• Ukraine surrendered its arsenal under security guarantees. It was invaded.

• Iran signed the JCPOA, complied with intrusive inspections, and was rewarded with sanctions and strikes.

• North Korea built the bomb. It gets summits and containment.

Every foreign ministry on earth understands this. The lesson is not subtle.

If you disarm, you are vulnerable.
If you deter, you survive.

And today, we converted that lesson from inference to doctrine.

“But They Were Cheating.”

Let’s deal with the obvious counterargument.

Perhaps Iran was buying time. Perhaps they were negotiating in bad faith. Perhaps breakout was closer than advertised.

Fine. Then explain the timeline.

On Thursday — forty-eight hours before the first American sortie — the latest round of US-Iran talks concluded in Geneva. Iran agreed, on the record, never to stockpile enriched uranium. Oman’s Foreign Minister, who brokered the negotiations, told the world that peace was “within reach” and that the talks had advanced “substantially.” Both sides agreed to continue engagement.

On Friday, the President said he’d “love not to” attack Iran, “but sometimes you have to.”

On Saturday morning, we attacked.

This was not a case of diplomacy collapsing (at least not obviously as of yet). Negotiations were active. Concessions were being discussed. The process was alive.1

We bombed a country that was sitting at the table.

If you believe Iran was negotiating in bad faith, show the intelligence. Demonstrate imminent irreversibility. Because if breakout was not days away — if diplomacy was even partially functional — then we traded a constrained threshold state for a sprinting, cornered one.

Killing the Supreme Leader does not dissolve the Revolutionary Guard.
It does not dissolve uranium stockpiles.
It does not dissolve physics.

We already proved this nine months ago. The June 2025 strikes targeted Iran’s nuclear facilities directly. The administration claimed they had “significantly degraded” the program. Iran resumed enrichment. We are now doing the same thing twice and calling it strategy.

What a strike does is alter incentives.

And the incentive inside Tehran now reads as follows:

Finish the bomb as fast as humanly possible.

A strike meant to stop a weapon can accelerate its necessity.

That is not ideology.

That is survival logic.

Regime Change as Ritual

We are told this is liberation.

The same liturgy was recited in Baghdad. The same hymnal was opened in Tripoli. We have now replaced strategy with incantation.

“Take your country back,” America declares, while cruise missiles redraw the skyline.

Iran is not a hollowed-out tribal shell. It is a dense, industrial, eighty-eight-million-person state with a deeply embedded coercive apparatus and a population that remembers 1953 as vividly as we remember 1979. The Revolutionary Guard controls vast sectors of the economy. It controls the guns. It controls the prisons. In January, it crushed mass protests with lethal force and the regime did not flinch.

A decapitation strike does not produce Jeffersonian town halls.

It produces succession struggles.

And succession struggles inside nuclear-threshold states are not liberation movements.

They are volatility generators.

If this is regime change, it is regime change without architecture — a demolition crew without blueprints.

The Proliferation Cascade

Here is the real catastrophe.

We have fired the starter’s pistol on a global nuclear recalibration.

Saudi Arabia is watching.
Turkey is watching.
Egypt is watching.
South Korea and Japan are watching.

All of them now face a simple question:

Can we afford to rely on American guarantees?

Or do we build our own?

You do not need rogue states for proliferation. You need rational ones observing broken incentives.

The Non-Proliferation Treaty was always a bargain: you forego the bomb; the nuclear powers restrain themselves and provide stability.

If that bargain is perceived as void, the treaty becomes a piece of paper.

I am sure there are already calls in Tehran to leave the NPT following this event. Once that exit happens, it is not an isolated event. It is a proof of concept for every signatory running the same arithmetic.

And once proliferation begins in earnest, it does not politely reverse itself.

Empires do not end when they lose battles.

They end when their guarantees stop structuring behavior.

The Gulf Is Not a Thought Experiment

Retaliation has already begun.

Iran has struck US military installations in Bahrain, Kuwait, Qatar, the United Arab Emirates, and Jordan. The Strait of Hormuz — twenty percent of global oil, every single day — has been declared closed. Air raid sirens have sounded in Manama. Explosions have been reported in Dubai and Doha.

The only Gulf Cooperation Council state Iran has not hit is Oman.

Oman — the country that brokered the peace talks we abandoned two days ago.

These are not hypothetical costs I am warning about from comfortable distance. These are allied nations under missile fire inside an active war zone they did not vote for, did not authorize, and could not prevent.

If you believe they will absorb that quietly, you have not been paying attention to regional politics for the past thirty years.

Hormuz is not a metaphor.

Even partial disruption is economic artillery aimed at every industrialized economy on earth. China and India power their economies on Gulf oil. The knock-on effects do not stay regional.

They go global, and they go fast.

The Credibility Problem

The American century was not built on raw force. It was built on predictable force.

Predictability creates order.
Order creates alignment.
Alignment creates power.

When diplomacy is perceived as a tactical pause before bombardment, diplomacy ceases to function as leverage. No adversary will negotiate seriously with a country that bombs you forty-eight hours after your mediator calls the talks a breakthrough.

When security guarantees appear selective or reversible, hedging begins.

When regime change becomes a reflex rather than a last resort, adversaries harden and allies diversify.

This is not about morality.

It is about trust architecture.

And trust architecture, once degraded, is extraordinarily expensive to rebuild.

The Uncomfortable Question

If you were sitting in Riyadh tonight, what would you be funding?

If you were in Ankara?

In Seoul?

In Tokyo?

Would you invest in speeches about international norms?

Or in centrifuges?

That is the question this operation has forced onto the world.

And if the answer tilts toward centrifuges — and it will — then the damage is not symbolic.

It is structural. It is generational.
And it will be extraordinarily difficult to unwind.

The world just changed. Not in the direction of freedom, not in the direction of security, and not in a direction that any rational actor can afford to ignore.

America has lost the plot.

There are seasons to Washington.

Budget season.
Indictment season.
Debt ceiling season.
The “documents were technically decorative” season.
The “put my name on something large and visible” season.

And then — like cicadas clawing up from the Potomac mud — War With Iran season.

It returns with ritual precision.

Always urgent. Always grave.
Always one intelligence briefing away from Armageddon.

Cable panels assemble like undertakers measuring a body that has not yet died. Think tank gladiators dust off op-eds and update the verb tense. Retired generals materialize in high definition to explain that this time — unlike the last six times — the calibration will be exquisite.

And the President — our present apostle of dominance theatre — is expected to stomp hard enough that Tehran trembles, but not so hard that gasoline hits seventeen dollars a gallon and suburban voters begin Googling “appeasement.”

Let us be clear.

This is not yet war.

It is something more American.

It is performative brinkmanship wrapped in strategic anxiety and sold as destiny.

War with Iran is not inevitable.

It is not engraved beneath the Pentagon.

But it is probable.

Probable because Iran sits near nuclear threshold status, and no American President — least of all one who governs by theatrical dominance — can afford to be the man who “let that happen.”

Probable because Israel treats an Iranian bomb not as an academic debate but as a countdown clock.

Probable because domestic politics rewards muscle-flexing and punishes restraint.

And probable because when great powers posture long enough in tight quarters, eventually someone misreads a radar screen, or a missile lands six miles left of where it was meant to land, and pride takes over where prudence once lived.

The Beltway will tell you this is about democracy.

It is not.

It is about deterrence credibility, nuclear timelines, presidential ego, and the preservation of a brand — a brand best summarized as:

“My foot up your ass or else.”

If war comes, it will not be regime change.

It will be something far more modern.

A limited war.

Which is to say: a war carefully described as limited by the people starting it.

Precision munitions. Dramatic satellite imagery. A podium address about proportionate, defensive, necessary action.

American strength reasserted.

And then — inevitably — the bill.

Because the Strait of Hormuz does not need to be closed to cause damage.

It merely needs to feel nervous.

You do not cork the bottle to spike oil.

You shake it.

Oil rises.
Markets flinch.
Europe groans.
Insurance premiums discover religion.

Limited war.

Global tax.

This is the likely movie.

The real question is what it does to the system.

That’s where the interesting part begins.

The Mechanics Beneath

If this breaks, it will not break cleanly.

It will not begin with a declaration.

It will begin with a strike described as limited.

Precision munitions. Nuclear infrastructure degraded. Carefully curated imagery. An address extolling the necessity and proportionality.

And beneath the choreography, one strategic objective:

Own the escalation ladder.

Because here is the uncomfortable truth most commentary ignores:

The most dangerous scenario for Washington is not acting.

It is reacting.

If Israel strikes alone, the United States inherits escalation on someone else’s timetable, someone else’s targeting logic, someone else’s risk tolerance.

If Iran crosses the threshold first, Washington’s options narrow dramatically. Israel becomes a wildcard. The United States is no longer choosing escalation — it is inheriting it.

This President believes that reacting looks weak. Coordinating looks subordinate. Surprise looks incompetent.

That leaves little room (potentially).

Under this logic, a U.S. preemptive strike becomes perversely rational — not because Washington seeks war, but because it refuses to lose control of sequencing.

This is not conquest.

It is tempo control.

It is demonstration.

And demonstration is what declining powers use when deterrence begins to feel uncertain.

This is not about whether we win.
It is about whether the system remains legible.

Read more

According to yet another intelligence leak—because under Trump, national security secrets flow like tap water—Iran has now amassed enough weapons-grade uranium to build nuclear bombs.

It already knows how to build one. It has the delivery systems. It has a command structure—primitive, but functional. Which means Tehran isn’t on the path to becoming a nuclear state. It is one.

Bravo. Twenty years of sanctions, sabotage, and shadow wars—just to arrive exactly where we swore we’d never let them get.

So now what?

The reality of small nuclear arsenals

When the Ayatollah rolls out his shiny new “Shia bomb,” and the regime holds its parade, chanting about infidels and divine justice, the strategic reality will be unchanged—for the United States, at least.

Iran might manage to build one, maybe five, perhaps ten nuclear weapons. Some functional, others probably not. That’s not a nuclear arsenal. That’s a souvenir stand.

Meanwhile, one Ohio-class submarine—undetectable, untraceable, already out there—can surface to launch depth and turn the entire country into molten glass within 45 minutes. Half the population gone. Ninety percent of infrastructure vaporized. Game over before Tehran even knows it started.

That’s real power.

Which is why Iran will never launch a missile at the United States—or, more precisely, at any NATO-aligned country. It can’t reach us, and even if it could, it wouldn’t. Because we can deter Iran. Iran cannot deter us.

This is the same logic that keeps North Korea, Pakistan, and India in check. None of them are on strategic parity with the U.S., Russia, or China. Their nukes aren’t global deterrents. They’re regime insurance.

Let’s call it what IR theory won’t: non-fuck-with-me-errance. Not about power projection. Just about survival.

Why Iran wanted nukes

Iran has always seen itself as the big wheel in the cracker factory—not just a regional player, but the rightful architect of the Middle East’s political future. It despises the Saudis. It loathes the Egyptians. But it hates the United States—with a theological, generational fury.

America, for its part, was hellbent on denying Iran that future—but too chicken-shit to take out the Ayatollah. That’s the schizophrenia at the heart of U.S. foreign policy. Fifty years of dithering, posturing, and half-measures have brought us to this moment.

Now Iran stands on the threshold of becoming a nuclear state.

So let’s run the numbers.

Can the U.S. realistically pull off regime change now?

Very doubtful.

Nuclear weapons are the ultimate veto. Against coups. Against foreign intervention.

Against history.

Can Washington still throw its weight around the region, brushing aside Iran’s objections?

Also doubtful.

Tehran now holds leverage—not because it can strike, but because we can’t. It earned its seat at the table not through diplomacy, but through physics.

Some analysts long warned that the real danger was Iran handing off a nuke to Hezbollah or Hamas and triggering a terrorist mushroom cloud. That was always a fever dream.

Could it happen? Sure—in the same way your cat could fire a gun by stepping on the trigger.

But the Iranian regime isn’t suicidal. Hezbollah, Hamas, and the Houthis are tools—messy, useful, expendable. Tehran doesn’t trust them with unregistered rifles, let alone nuclear warheads.

This was never about launching a bomb. It was always about owning one.

And what that ownership prevents.

So Now What?

Iran has the bomb—or soon will. And while that doesn’t shift the raw balance of power, it does change the rules of engagement.

Not for them. For us.

We can no longer invade. We can no longer bluff. We can no longer pretend they’re a rogue actor to be managed at the margins. Iran is now a nuclear power with de facto veto rights over regional escalation.

That doesn’t make them a superpower. It makes them untouchable—which, strategically speaking, is far more valuable.

They don’t need to strike. They just need to survive. And now they will.

Expect bolder moves in Syria. More leverage in Iraq. Deeper entrenchment with Hezbollah and the Houthis. The calculus shifts from “Can they get away with it?” to “What can we do about it?”

Spoiler: not much.

The Trump administration—now back in power—will face a cold, immutable truth: physics trumps policy. There’s no speech, no summit, no tariff, no “TACO,” no sanctions package, and no amount of Trumpian bullshit that can undo what’s been done.

And most importantly, no amount of wish-casting will bring back the era of consequence-free American dominance in the Middle East.

The era of containment is dead.

Welcome to the era of coexistence by force.

Once again—tired of all the winning.

Trump will, of course, blame Biden. But the truth is, this is Trump’s mess. He was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

How to Build a Nuclear State in Seven Easy Steps

The turning point was 2018, when Donald Trump unilaterally pulled the U.S. out of the Iran nuclear deal—the Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action. Iran was in compliance. The International Atomic Energy Agency said so. So did U.S. intelligence.

Didn’t matter.

Trump shredded the deal because it had Obama’s name on it. No alternative plan. No backup framework. Just raw political theater, broadcast nightly on Fox News.

Then came the sanctions—the “maximum pressure” campaign. Not just a return to the pre-deal status quo, but a full-spectrum economic stranglehold: oil exports frozen, banking access severed, entire sectors blacklisted. And to cut off Iran’s European lifeline, Trump even sanctioned EU companies that tried to maintain trade.

Diplomacy wasn’t just dead. It was criminalized.

Then Trump labeled the IRGC a terrorist organization—a first for any state military entity. That effectively cut off any chance of meaningful diplomacy, because anyone talking to Iran’s real power center could now be accused of aiding terrorists.

Then came the strike.

In January 2020, Trump ordered the assassination of Qasem Soleimani, Iran’s top general and strategic architect. He wasn’t on a battlefield. He was traveling through Iraq. The U.S. killed him via drone—no warning, no accountability.

It was a decapitation strike. A message: you’re not safe. Not even your most valuable commander.

And if that wasn’t clear enough, Trump tweeted threats to bomb Iranian cultural sites—for the record, a war crime.

So what does all that signal?

There’s no deal you can trust. No behavior that will protect you. The only guarantee is force.

Iran got the message.

It paused. It waited. It watched to see if Europe would step in. But by 2020, it was obvious: no one was coming. Not to enforce the deal. Not to offer an alternative. Not to stop the next missile.

The Biden Interregnum

Trump left office in 2021. The clock kept ticking.

Biden entered promising to restore the JCPOA. The plan sounded simple: reverse Trump’s exit, re-enter the deal, de-escalate the crisis.

It wasn’t.

From the outset, talks in Vienna were stalled and surreal. Iran refused to meet directly with U.S. diplomats. Messages were passed through Europeans like we were back in Cold War Berlin.

Iran’s position: lift sanctions first.
America’s: return to compliance first.
Result: deadlock.

Meanwhile, Iran hit the gas. It ramped enrichment to 60%, installed advanced centrifuges, unplugged IAEA cameras, kicked out inspectors. The breakout time dropped from one year to a few weeks.

And the Biden administration?

It blinked. It hesitated. Then it froze.

The political math didn’t work. Biden couldn’t rejoin the deal without Congress—and Congress wasn’t interested. MAGA Republicans, pressured by Trump, opposed any effort. Hawks in both parties sounded alarms about “appeasement.” Israel, once again, lobbied hard against restoration.

The diplomatic window narrowed. Then it shut.

Then came 2022. Mahsa Amini.

Nationwide protests erupted. The regime cracked down brutally—beatings, blackouts, executions. Biden pivoted to human rights rhetoric. Publicly, the White House stood with the protesters. Privately, any remaining diplomatic channel vanished.

By 2023, the JCPOA was a corpse. No resurrection. No Plan B. Just strategic drift repackaged as prudence.

Iran, meanwhile, crossed every red line:

• The deal’s limits? Gone.

• The inspectors? Gone.

• The uranium stockpile? Ballooning.

• Its alliances? Strengthened—with Russia and China.

The IAEA all but admitted it had no visibility. And Washington quietly shifted from “prevent Iran from getting a bomb” to “manage the fallout when they do.”

And Then Came 2024

Iran didn’t test a bomb. It didn’t need to. It just kept enriching, kept expanding, kept preparing.

Then came the 2024 election. Biden and Harris lose. Trump returns to power, flanked by a team eager to “flatten Gaza,” partner with Israel on regional dominance, and crush Iranian proxies in Yemen and Lebanon.

So if you're Tehran, and that’s what you're seeing—what do you do?

You build the bomb.

Fast.

And that’s exactly what Iran did.

This Is the Endgame

Iran made the choice. But America forced their hand.

The situation before Trump was precarious—but it was stable. There was a deal. There was visibility. There was a slim chance that Iran might stay non-nuclear.

After 2018, that chance vanished.

Trump’s betrayal of the deal, escalation of conflict, and normalization of assassination made it clear: Iran would always face either a hostile America or an erratic one. There would never be safety without a nuclear deterrent.

So Iran chose sovereignty. And it chose the bomb.

And here we are.

… Lenny Bruce is not afraid.

PS: Start the chess clock… 60-75 days to a report of a seismic event confirming an underground test of roughly a 3-7 kT yield. Boom. After that, it’s all over, boys and girls. Warheads go on missiles, and that’s all she wrote.

As I woke up this morning—huzzah—a trade deal.

Of course, it comes with the usual trumpet blast: “Big stuff” will be announced in the gilded Oval at 10 a.m. Eastern.

Oh joy, I think to myself.

So I start chasing down the details of this supposed “deal” with the United Kingdom. What did we, the American people, get? Let’s not forget what we were promised: riches beyond the dreams of avarice.

We were gonna be so rich. Remember?

So… what did we get?

Basically, nothing we weren’t already on track to receive through the WTO or standard diplomatic channels. The U.K. was moving in that direction anyway.

Trump burned down the courthouse to avoid paying a parking ticket that was likely to be dismissed—then stood on the ashes and yelled, “Victory!”

Great job, imbecile.

Let’s get into the details—and what this charade means for the rest of us.

(Note: This will be a shorter post than my normal ones, because this is an evolving and fluid topic. This subject is “more than a note,” so I made it a post instead.)

The Deal (Allegedly)

According to the announcement, this “comprehensive” U.S.–U.K. trade deal lifts tariffs on select British exports—most notably steel, cars, and some agricultural goods. In return, the U.K. will dial back its digital services tax on American tech giants.

Comprehensive. 3 for 1. Yeah, totally comprehensive. What’s missing is that U.S. agricultural products are still closed off to the United Kingdom. With good reason from the British perspective, they think our food is garbage, and they won’t budge on it. So, Mr. “I’m so great at negotiating, I’m going to make them do whatever I say,” completely screwed the pooch on that one. That was by far the biggest market for the United States.

Screwed—

The—

Pooch.

Broligarchs get a tax cut in exchange for a reduction on targeted tariffs of UK imports. That’s the “comprehensive” deal we got.

That’s the headline.

On paper, it might sound like progress. Tariffs come down, broligarchs breathe easier, and the White House gets to slap a fresh coat of “dealmaker” paint on the orange clown—defined more by economic firebombing and gold leaf than actual results.

Everyone wins, right? Especially Broligarchs, which, as we all know, is indeed the most important thing here (eye roll).

Except here’s the thing: nearly all of these so-called “wins” were already in motion—and if anything, were put at risk by Trump’s self-proclaimed “day of liberation.” The U.K. was already facing pressure from the OECD and its own business sector to soften the digital tax. And those tariffs? They were Trump’s own April handiwork, imposed on allies under bogus national security pretenses. In other words: the classic Trump flip-flop.

This isn’t a breakthrough. It’s a carefully timed photo op.

It’s not a reset. It’s a reversal.

Calling it a “deal” is like hurling a brick through your neighbor’s window, then offering to split the cost of the repairs.

It’s classic Trumpian nonsense, plain and simple.

Look, Ma—I saved the cat I threw into the tree!

Coddling the Toddler

Again, let’s be clear: the U.K. didn’t cave to Trump.

They gave him what they were already planning to give. The digital services tax rollback? Already in motion under OECD pressure. Agricultural access tweaks? Already part of quiet bilateral feelers. Even the tariff reversals simply erased the tripwires Trump had planted himself.

But the U.K. went along with the charade.

Why? Because in a post-Brexit world, optics matter almost as much as policy. Britain needs to show momentum—any momentum—to markets, media, and its own citizens. So they smiled, nodded, and treated the toddler like he was making grown-up decisions.

They coddled him.

Let him bang on the pots, call it music, and take credit for dinner.

Again, why? Because the alternative is being labeled uncooperative, ungrateful, or worse—irrelevant. The cost of refusing the show is higher than the cost of playing along.

So what looks like a concession is really just managing the tantrum.

The U.K. didn’t fold.

They gamed the game. This is “the game,” now with the U.S.

They understand it’s not a trade deal. It’s a media asset.

And when your economy is drifting and your global footing uncertain, sometimes survival means keeping the toddler from burning down the nursery again.

After all, as the British National Anthem describes it:

"Confound their politics, frustrate their knavish tricks..."

Seems like that’s precisely what they tried to do. They definitely know how, they’ve been doing it for like 400 years.

Some of you readers asked me why Carney came to the U.S.? Why countries are putting up with Trump? Why the charade?

Because, this is the game now. It’s not substantive, it’s performance.

Burning Down the System

Enter this point in our story, the Talking Heads, and the song “Burning Down the House.”

Here’s the real cost of this charade: not in the terms of the deal, but in what had to be torched to get it.

Trump didn’t just negotiate badly. He deliberately sabotaged the postwar trade architecture that the U.S. helped build, undermining the World Trade Organization, alienating allies, and weaponizing tariffs as tools of personal theater. All to create the illusion of a standoff so that he could choreograph his own resolution.

By invoking national security to slap tariffs on British steel and German cars, Trump did more than pick a fight—he nuked the principle that trade disputes should be handled through neutral, rules-based systems.

He made every economic disagreement a loyalty test.

The result? The WTO’s dispute resolution mechanism is now crippled.

The appellate body—once the crown jewel of global trade law—was defunded and blocked by Trump’s administration. While Biden made half-hearted gestures toward restoring it, the damage is done. Global trust in American leadership on trade has fractured. It’s doubtful that it can be restored even after Trump is gone (regardless of whether there’s ever an election again, if you’re inclined to believe such things.)

Meanwhile, the U.K.—desperate for post-Brexit trade wins—played along. Not because it trusted the U.S. system but because it no longer expected any system. And that’s the quiet shift: We're no longer in a rules-based order. We're in a vibes-based order.

And the vibes? They’re increasingly authoritarian, transactional, and unstable.

This wasn’t a trade negotiation. It was a hostage situation.

And the U.S. lit the fuse.

The Cost of Chaos

The damage here isn’t just diplomatic—it’s economic, structural, and enduring.

Multilateral trade systems exist for a reason: predictability. Investors, corporations, and governments need to know the rules won’t change at the whim of a mood-swinging demagogue. When the U.S. treats international agreements like reality show plot twists, the long-term cost isn’t just bruised egos in Brussels—it’s capital flight, reshoring hesitancy, and a global pivot toward China as the more stable trading partner.

Let that sink in: the Communist Party of China now looks more dependable than the United States in certain boardrooms.

One of you, readers, posted in response to one of my notes last night to argue that the Russian government was “the adult in the room” when it came to stabilizing the Indo-Pak conflict.

(faints)

So that’s where we are now.

Relying on China. Russia. North Korea. For leadership.

Trump’s “deal” with the U.K. didn’t reassure markets—it reminded them that nothing negotiated with the U.S. is permanent. That’s why the EU is pouring billions into “strategic autonomy,” India is hedging its bets, and even traditional allies like Japan are scaling up domestic resilience.

No one’s betting on the U.S. as a reliable anchor anymore. They’re betting on surviving without it.

And what did we get in exchange for all that credibility?

A slightly cheaper Jaguar.

A tax break for Google.

That’s not a win.

That’s a clearance sale on American legitimacy.

What Does It Mean? What Do We Do Now?

What does it mean?

It means we no longer live in a system governed by norms, institutions, or predictability. We’re living in a managed spectacle—a regime of image over outcome, where deals are made not to solve problems but to perform solutions to problems someone else deliberately created. That’s not policy. That’s propaganda with tariffs.

This deal tells us that even our most basic economic relationships are now part of the theater—and the audience is global. Allies aren’t reassured; they’re re-evaluating. Adversaries aren’t deterred; they’re adapting. And everyone is learning that the U.S. is a country that can’t commit to anything except the next press release.

The net effect? Every nation is building lifeboats. Strategic autonomy in Europe. Belt-and-Road hedging in Africa. Currency diversification in the Gulf. No one’s waiting around for the next four-year cycle of American whiplash.

And here at home? We’re still told it’s winning.

What do we do now?

If you’re in government, business, or civil society: start acting like the institutions won’t hold. Build redundancies. Make your moves global. Stop assuming tomorrow will look like yesterday just because the flag still hangs on the wall.

If you’re part of the growing class of disillusioned citizens—those of you reading this from a coffee shop in Lisbon, a VPN in Singapore, or your living room in Cincinnati—don’t get caught staring at the fire. Start moving your assets, your options, your plans into systems that aren’t actively being dismantled in real time.

Because what this moment reveals is that the collapse isn’t coming—it’s here.

It’s just not televised like you thought.

It’s disguised as “deals,” as “wins,” as “normal.”

But normal is gone. And if you want to survive what replaces it, you’ll need to start playing a different game.

The Fire Was the Point

Trump didn’t put the fire out.

He lit it, filmed it, blamed someone else for it, and then held a press conference in the ashes claiming victory.

That’s not diplomacy. That’s arson as governance.

And the scariest part? It works—because the audience is too exhausted to care, too disoriented to remember what the house used to look like.

We’re not just watching fires now.

We’re learning to live in the smoke.

Because in this America, the fire isn’t an emergency.

It’s the system working exactly as designed.

Maybe the real danger isn’t that the fire spreads—
It’s that we stop noticing the heat.

If This Hit You Where It Should Have…

If this made sense to you, keep reading.
If it disturbed you, good. It should have.
If it felt uncomfortably accurate—welcome. You’re already one of us.

👉 Share this with someone who still thinks it's all just trolling.
👉 Subscribe if you haven’t.
👉 And stay tuned. The next moves are already in motion.

(Cue “Danger Zone” music.)

Dateline—somewhere in the middle of the ocean.

Steamlines fill. Hornets rip into the sky from the USS Harry S. Truman Carrier Strike Group (CVN-75), afterburners blazing. Their tails bear markers of the best in the fleet: the “Fighting Swordsman,” the “Gunslingers,” the “Rampagers,” and the “Wildcats.”

They are warbirds. And they are going hunting.

Slung under their wings? GBU-12 Paveway II bombs.

500-pound precision-guided killers, built to punch through buildings, turn steel into dust, and scatter the enemy like ashes.

Above them, AWACS birds circle, tracking every movement. Below, the battle fleet holds formation—radars hot, defenses primed, every crewman locked and loaded.

Minutes later, the Paveways fall.

Targets vanish in flashes of fire and steel.

A burst of flame, then—lights out.

The enemy never stood a chance.

This wasn’t a fight. It was an execution.

It’s over in less than an hour. The warbirds turn for home. The fleet holds formation. Everyone goes back to their routine—just another day and another mission.

I’ve seen our guys in action. When the United States decides to bring the hammer down, it must feel like vengeance from God himself. It’s something beyond imagination unless you’ve been on the receiving end.

And now, here we go again—bombing Yemen and the Houthis.

Normally, I wouldn’t even blink. This is what we do. This is how deterrence works.

But this time, something is off.

We’re not retaliating.

We’re not deterring.

I don’t flinch from using force. I spent years at the Pentagon making sure we crushed Al Qaeda. I never lost sleep over seeing them beaten into submission. I know exactly who the Houthis are, who Iran is, and how this game works.

The Houthis have attacked shipping, fired missiles at Israel, and fueled chaos in the region for years. We’ve hit them before. And I’ve never had a problem with it—when it was deterrence.

I get it. The Middle East is a game of nine-dimensional chess.

Iran pulls strings.

Israel overreacts.

The U.S. tries to hold everything together before the whole region ignites and oil prices go through the roof.

This isn’t my first rodeo.

But here’s the thing: I also know the difference between deterrence and picking a fight.

And right now, we’re picking a fight.

And that’s not something I’m on board with. Because when you pick a fight, the enemy pokes back.

And this time, they’ll make sure they don’t miss.

And when that happens, we won’t just poke again—we’ll have to escalate.

Because that’s how these things go.

That’s how wars start.

So before we walk down this path, the real question is why?

Why are we doing this?

I thought Peace was the idea?

Maybe I missed a memo, but I thought the goal was de-escalation. Last time I checked, the Houthis weren’t actively launching missiles at U.S. or international shipping. Yes, there were threats. Yes, there was saber-rattling. But threats aren’t missiles, and talk isn’t an attack.

Here’s how we usually handle adversaries like Iran and the Houthis: we wait. We don’t escalate first. We don’t take the first swing. We deal in retribution, not provocation.

Our doctrine is built on something simple: patience is power. We absorb a lot of damage because we can afford to, and when we hit back, we hit in ways that leave a mark. That’s how deterrence works—not by lashing out first, but by ensuring our enemies regret throwing the first punch.

That entire doctrine just got thrown out the window. And for what? A flex? A distraction? A show of force for force’s sake?

It sure as hell wasn’t about deterrence.

So What Changed?

There are only three reasons to abandon deterrence doctrine and strike first:

1. A clear, imminent threat – A preemptive strike makes sense if an enemy is about to attack and taking them out first prevents mass casualties.

2. A political motive – A president desperate for a show of strength to distract from domestic problems.

3. A strategic shift – A deliberate move to change U.S. doctrine from deterrence to something more aggressive.

If there was an imminent threat, I haven’t seen evidence of it. If this was political, well… I don’t believe in coincidences when approval ratings are in the toilet. If this was strategic, then we’re playing with fire, because the next move belongs to the enemy, not us. That runs counter to our entire doctrine. The U.S. doesn’t start fights just to start them—we control the battlespace so that we can end them on our terms. But this? This isn’t control. This is forcing the enemy’s next move.

So what the heck are we doing?

A Disproportionate Response?

Let’s compare:

• The Houthis launched missiles and drones at us.

• We shot them all down.

• We suffered zero damage.

• In response, we leveled military sites across Yemen.

That is not a proportional response.

The entire point of proportionality in warfare is that you respond in kind. You neutralize threats, you degrade capabilities, but you don’t escalate for the sake of escalation.

Instead, we just sent a message: "Even if you fail to hit us, we will hit you. Hard. And first."

You know who fights this way? Israel. Hit first, hit hard, and make sure the other guy never forgets it. But that’s never been our doctrine.

We fight to win wars, not to pick them.

Our strategy results in two things:

1. It incentivizes the Houthis to make their next attack count.

   • If they’re getting bombed just for missing, what’s the incentive to hold back?

   • The next barrage may not miss and now we force our hand to escalate.

2. It signals to Iran that we are willing to go further than deterrence.

   • And Iran, whether directly or through proxies, does not absorb humiliation lightly.

   • We’re pushing them to the wall. And what’s the endgame? Because unless we’re ready to invade Iran, wipe out their entire military, and change the regime, this escalation only leads to one thing: an enemy with nothing left to lose. And that’s the most dangerous kind.

This isn't deterrence. This is provocation.

The Question No One is Asking

I’ll ask it:

What happens when the Houthis—or worse, Iran—decide to hit back in a way that hurts?

• What happens when an oil tanker gets sunk instead of just threatened?

• What happens when an American ship actually takes a hit?

• What happens when the first American body bags come home from a war no one voted for?

We’ve crossed a line here. And if history teaches us anything, once you cross that line, the only question left is how far you're willing to go.

The Blind, the Deaf, and the Madman

We have an intelligence community that is blind and deaf, run by idiots, led by a madman.

What could go wrong?

A lot.

The Intelligence Failure We Should Have Seen Coming

It would be one thing if this strike were based on real intelligence—credible, actionable, urgent. But does anyone believe that’s what happened? Does anyone think our intelligence community—the same one that missed 9/11, miscalculated Iraq’s WMDs, failed to predict the Afghan government collapsing in a week, and didn’t see Hamas preparing for October 7th— somehow pulled off a flawless assessment of an “imminent” Houthi threat?

Again, I have no illusions about who these people are, but I call “Shennanigans!” on this one.

This isn’t intelligence. This is political theater disguised as military action.

We’ve seen this movie before.

A "classified briefing" suddenly tells us that a threat is real and urgent. The press gets just enough leaks to spread the narrative. Congress gets its usual intelligence briefings—the kind that tell you everything and nothing simultaneously—and before you know it, the bombs are dropping.

And when we look back?

Oops.

I wish I could say I’m surprised. But this happens when you gut the institutions built to keep us from making bad decisions and replace them with yes-men, grifters, and “Fox Schnooze” warriors who spend more time licking boot than reading intelligence briefs.

Because this isn’t just about intelligence failures—it’s about the rotting leadership running the show. Which begs the next (scarier) question:

Who’s Running This Shitshow?

Let’s be honest: Trump doesn’t read intelligence briefings. For all we know, the clown can’t even read. By his own words, he uses his “very good brain,” to decide how foreign policy should unfold. His own former National Security Advisors have admitted it. He’s too lazy and too arrogant to care about the details. He wants headlines, not strategy, and every other word better be “Trump.”

So who’s calling the shots?

Cui bono? Because it sure as hell isn’t America. It’s not our troops. It’s not our allies. So who? The arms dealers? The defense contractors cashing in on another Middle Eastern crisis? The war hawks still trying to refight the Cold War? The fanatics who think picking a fight with Iran somehow scares China? If you think this is about 'national security,' I’ve got some defense stock to sell you.

If anyone has an answer, I’d love to hear it.

Who in this administration signed off on an unprovoked strike that fundamentally changes U.S. deterrence policy?

I don’t think anyone knows:

• The intelligence agencies? They’re either too incompetent or too afraid to challenge bad decisions.

• The Pentagon? Led by a 'DUI Hire'—a guy whose entire career has been a case study in failing upward—the Pentagon follows orders even when they know they’re dumb. Why else purge everyone with a spine and replace them with a violent, womanizing alcoholic who was a military disgrace and a laughing stock on a Sunday Fox News program before Trump resurrected him?

• The State Department? Irrelevant. Dead weight. Trump has gutted it. Marco Rubio is an empty suit with a marble-mouthed defense of everything MAGA.

• Congress? Too spineless to push back. And honestly, I beg the question, who was in the “Gang of 8” briefings on this one, and did even anyone say anything at all? I’m guessing they weren’t done and Congress found out on CNN just like everyone else.

So we’re left with a military running on autopilot, an intelligence community flying blind, a Congress with all the courage of a wet sock, and a Commander-in-Chief with the impulse control of a toddler holding a flamethrower.

What could go wrong?

The Relentless Machine: Just How Powerful Are We?

Let’s get something straight. The United States isn’t just powerful—we are, by every conceivable metric, the most dominant military force in human history.

We don’t fight wars. We end them.
We don’t struggle with nations. We erase them.

The combined strength of the next ten militaries on Earth wouldn’t stand a chance against us in a toe-to-toe, tit-for-tat fight.

They don’t win battles against us. They survive them.

• We can wipe a country off the map before lunch and still make our dinner reservation on time.

• We have the largest, most advanced nuclear arsenal on Earth—one that can turn a city into glass in under 30 minutes.

• Our naval power alone outmatches the next ten largest fleets combined.

• Our Air Force owns more than just the skies—it also controls space, cyberspace, and the electromagnetic spectrum.

It's not a fair fight every time we roll into a conflict. It’s the equivalent of dropping the 1996 Chicago Bulls into a pickup intermural basketball league.

So let’s not kid ourselves about what happened in Yemen.

That strike? It wasn’t a battle. It wasn’t a fight. It wasn’t even a showdown.

It was an execution.

Those jets launched from the USS Harry S. Truman, lobbed precision-guided death onto targets that never saw it coming, and left before the flames even died down.

The enemy didn’t even get a shot off.

That is the scale of our dominance.

The DUI Hire may think we need the “biggest, baddest military.”

I’ve got news for that drunk—we already are.

Nobody has been feared like the U.S. military since the Gurkhas—whose mere name alone was enough to force an enemy to surrender.

Again, I have no qualms about using our force. Many a time in meetings at the Pentagon, I said:

"If our cause be just, let no one stand in our way."

And they wouldn’t.

They just couldn’t.

That’s why I’m so confused right now.

So Why Are We Acting Like We’re Weak?

If we’re this powerful and can wipe enemies off the board at will, then why are we acting like scared children lashing out in the dark?

If the Houthis were a real, existential threat, they would have hit us already. If Iran were truly on the verge of attacking, we wouldn’t be waiting for a manufactured excuse to strike. If this were about deterrence, we wouldn’t be fighting like an insecure empire trying to prove itself instead of a superpower that knows precisely when and how to hit.

We aren’t weak. We never have been.

But weak men in power make strong nations do stupid things. They waste soldiers' lives on wars they don’t know how to win. They send young men and women home in flag-draped coffins for conflicts that never should have happened. They turn superpowers into empires, grasping for relevance.

And right now, we are wielding a sledgehammer in a conflict that doesn’t require one.

Power Without Strategy Is Just Violence

We have the power to destroy nations but not the leadership to win wars. We can control the battlespace but have no strategy for what comes next. We have enough firepower to reduce our enemies to ash, but we lack the discipline to know when not to pull the trigger.

And that’s why this strike in Yemen is terrifying.

Not because it’s impressive—we do this every day. Not because the Houthis deserved better—they didn’t. But because it’s power being used recklessly—not to deter an enemy, not to respond to an attack, but to force a conflict that never needed to happen.

We aren’t just the most potent military force on the planet.

We are the most dangerous.

And when our leaders forget that distinction, the world bleeds for it.

We’ve Seen This Before, and We Know How It Ends

Here’s what happens when you let lousy intelligence, no strategy, and shitty leadership run the show:

We get into fights we don’t need to be in.
We kill people who didn’t need to die.
We create enemies where there didn’t need to be any.
We send Americans to die for nothing.

We’ve done it before—Iraq, Afghanistan, Libya, Syria.

The only difference?

This time, the stakes are higher.

Because this isn’t just another regional conflict.

This is a direct provocation of Iran.

And if Iran decides to respond—
If they stop playing the long game and hit us where it hurts—

We’re not just looking at another endless war.

We’re looking at a catastrophe that makes Iraq look like a warm-up act.

I’m not afraid of Iran. Iran is a regional power with global ambitions, but let’s be honest—against us, they wouldn’t last a week. If they ever threatened the United States, they’d cease to exist before the sun set.

If Iran wants to call down the thunder—well, here it fucking comes. Game over.

But that’s not what’s happening here:

We’re the ones provoking the fight.
We’re the ones destabilizing the chessboard.

So tell me again—who thought this was a good idea?

We are so powerful that I had to remind people—our cause had to be just.

The reality is that nobody can stand in our way.

We don’t restrain ourselves because we’re weak. We restrain ourselves because nobody is stronger.

And when this spirals (which is inevitable):

When the missiles come back our way.
When the body bags start coming home.
When oil is $300 a barrel and the economy tanks.
When we find ourselves in a war with Iran, without any of our allies, while China and Russia back Iran.

Who’s going to take the blame?

Not Trump.

He never does. He never will.

He’ll be too busy pointing fingers—at the generals, the Cabinet, the intelligence community, NATO, Congress, maybe even the troops themselves.

The only certainty?

It won’t be him paying the price.

It never is. It never will be.

I’m a national security expert—by training, by practice. It’s not what I do anymore, but I spent about 20% of my life doing it. So when I ask this question, it’s not casual rhetoric:

Do we, the United States, want Europe independent of our protection?

For years, some Americans have argued that Europe has relied too heavily on the U.S. for security. That NATO allies aren’t pulling their weight. That we foot the bill while they enjoy the benefits. But is that really true? And if Europe were to go it alone, would that actually serve America’s interests?

France’s Minister for Europe and Foreign Affairs, Jean-Noël Barrot, recently made a point that should give Americans pause: Europe cannot entrust its security to a country increasingly unpredictable in its commitments to allies.

And now, they have reason to worry. Yesterday, the President publicly questioned whether France—or other NATO allies—would defend America if the situation were reversed.

Let me be clear: that is false.

The idea that our allies haven’t upheld their obligations is not only misleading—it’s an insult to those who have fought and died alongside American soldiers.

Soldiers from France, Britain, Canada, Italy, Spain, Poland, Denmark, the Netherlands, Portugal, Turkey, Sweden, and Finland have been in the trenches with us during the Global War on Terror, in Iraq, and in the fight against ISIS. Beyond our historic European allies, soldiers from Hungary, the Czech Republic, Estonia, Latvia, Slovakia, Ukraine, Lithuania, and Romania have also served and sacrificed.

These nations have honored their commitments. They have paid the cost of war—not just in financial terms, but in lives.

For a sitting U.S. president to suggest otherwise is more than an error. It erodes trust, weakens alliances, and signals that America is no longer be a reliable partner.

If I were one of our allies, I would be stunned. Frustrated. And if I were from Canada, Britain, Australia, New Zealand, France, Spain, Italy, or Germany—America’s closest NATO allies—I would ask a difficult question: Can we count on the United States to honor its treaty and alliance commitments?

But security is not about feelings.

Europe now has to adjust to this new dynamic. The logical response is to become a military power in its own right.

That shift should concern us. Not because Europe doesn’t have the right to protect itself—it absolutely does—but because it signals a fracture in the post-World War II security order that has kept the world stable for decades.

For the first time since 1945, the U.S. risks losing its position as the primary security guarantor of the West.

That has profound consequences.

Let’s talk about why. Let’s talk about how, in less than one presidency, America could dismantle seventy-five years of strategic dominance—and what happens when the world no longer relies on the United States to hold it together.

Realism, Neorealism, and the Limits of Cooperation

To understand what’s happening now—and why Europe’s potential shift toward military independence is so consequential—we need to step back and look at the theoretical foundations of global power. I realize most of my subscribers are super smart, but I doubt many of you are political scientists (I am). So indulge me for a minute as I give you a very brief version of the lesson I’ve given thousands of poly-sci students in their “International Relations 101” classes. I think it’s important to have a background in the structure of understanding how people “like me” think about what people like “Trump” say and do. International statecraft is a discipline in and of itself, with research, theory, scholarship, and practicum. So here’s a brief overview:

Realism & Neorealism: Structures & Power (Everybody Wants to Rule the World)

For nearly a century, realism has shaped how policymakers and military strategists understand international relations. At its core, realism is built on a few fundamental principles:

1. The international system is anarchic – No global government enforces rules; survival depends on power.

2. States are the primary actors – While institutions like the United Nations exist, realists argue that states act in their self-interest, and power—not ideals—dictates global outcomes.

3. National interest and power drive decision-making – Morality and ideology may shape rhetoric, but security calculations ultimately dictate policy.

4. Military capability matters most – In an anarchic system, security depends on strength. Nations with military power set the terms of engagement.

Hans Morgenthau, one of the leading thinkers of classical realism, argued that international politics is governed by the same forces that shape human behavior—the will to power, competition, and self-interest. In his 1948 book Politics Among Nations, Morgenthau laid out a stark vision of world affairs: states act rationally to maximize power, alliances are fleeting, and international law is often secondary to raw power politics.

By the late 20th century, realism evolved into neo-realism, most associated with Kenneth Waltz. In Theory of International Politics (1979), Waltz shifted the focus from human nature to the structure of the international system as the key driver of state behavior. This was a key observation, countries had no choice to act in certain ways. They either understood the international system, or they perished (this was a key distinction from “realism” scholarship prior.) Waltz argued that:

• The world is defined by balance-of-power politics—when one nation or alliance grows too strong, others push back to maintain equilibrium.

• The distribution of power (unipolarity, bipolarity, multipolarity) determines global stability.

• States act not out of greed or aggression, but out of necessity to ensure their own survival.

For Waltz, the post-Cold War era of U.S. unipolarity—the period when America was the undisputed global superpower—was an anomaly. The world, he argued, naturally tends toward balance, and that balance is now shifting.

Stephen Walt built on this framework with his balance of threat theory. He argued that states don’t just respond to power—they respond to perceived threats. Nations form alliances based on:

• The aggregate power of a rival (military, economy, population).

• Geographic proximity (neighbors feel threats more directly).

• The rival’s offensive capabilities (the ability to project force).

• Perceived aggressive intentions (hostile rhetoric and actions matter).

For decades, Europe aligned with the U.S. under NATO not just because of shared history but because the Soviet Union posed an existential threat. After the Cold War, Europe continued to rely on the U.S. because American power still provided stability and shielded them from a rogue Russia as well as other perceived threats (Iran, China, etc.)

With a growing perception that the U.S. is an unreliable partner, Europe has little choice but to reassess its alliances. According to realists, the United States has moved from being an ally to being a threat to stability (from the view of Europe) itself. Europe cannot afford not to balance this threat.

What About Institutions? The Limits of Cooperation

Realists argue that power dictates international relations, but some scholars—notably Robert Keohane—have pushed back. In After Hegemony (1984), Keohane laid out the case for neoliberal institutionalism: institutions like NATO, the EU, and the UN help stabilize global politics by reducing uncertainty, fostering cooperation, and creating interdependence.

Keohane argues that states don’t just react to power but also calculate cooperation's benefits. Even in an anarchic system, international institutions can constrain states’ worst impulses and create incentives to follow rules.

But institutions only work if major powers respect them.

When a leading power—like the United States—begins undermining alliances, questioning commitments, and disregarding multilateral agreements, the credibility of those institutions erodes. And when institutions break down, realism takes over.

That’s where we are now.1

For decades, NATO functioned as a security stabilizer not just because of military power but because the U.S. upheld the credibility of its commitments. Now, with the U.S. openly questioning NATO’s purpose and treating allies as expendable, Europe is reverting to a realist mode of survival—preparing to ensure its own security, independent of American guarantees.

This is the moment where realism reasserts itself.

NATO and other institutions won’t disappear overnight, but their role in maintaining security depends on trust. And if that trust is gone, so is the system that has kept Europe stable for nearly 80 years.

The Implications of Realism Today

Realism tells us that alliances are not permanent. They exist as long as they serve a mutual strategic interest. If Europe sees the U.S. as unpredictable—or worse, a liability—it will act accordingly.

If that happens, the global balance of power will shift in ways that fundamentally alter the world order.

Now, let’s talk about what that looks like.

Europe’s Reassessment—From Security Partner to Strategic Liability

Europe has relied on the United States for nearly eight decades as the cornerstone of its security architecture. NATO, formed in the wake of World War II, was built on the premise that American power would serve as a stabilizing force against external threats—first the Soviet Union, then global terrorism, and now, a revanchist Russia.

That position is now being reassessed (at best) and most likely outright abandoned.

President Trump’s rhetoric and actions have forced European leaders to view the United States not just as an unreliable partner, but increasingly as a potential threat to European security. This shift is not based on ideological differences or diplomatic disputes; it is grounded in the core tenets of realism and balance-of-threat theory. When a hegemonic power becomes unpredictable—when its commitments waver, and its leaders openly undermine alliances—other states must recalibrate their security posture accordingly. That is exactly what Europe is now doing.

The Erosion of Trust in NATO Commitments

Trump’s skepticism toward NATO is well-documented. He has openly questioned the alliance’s value, suggested that the U.S. might not fulfill its Article 5 defense commitments, and framed America’s security guarantees as transactional rather than strategic. This approach directly contradicts the logic of alliances outlined by theorists like Walt, who argued that states form security coalitions not out of goodwill, but because they face common threats. If an alliance no longer guarantees protection, its members will seek alternatives.

For European nations, Trump’s rhetoric raises an alarming question: Can they still rely on the United States as a security guarantor? If the answer is no, then the logical course of action is to prepare for a future in which the U.S. is absent—or even adversarial—in European security calculations.

Unilateral U.S. Actions and the Shift in Global Power Perceptions

Beyond NATO, Trump’s broader approach to foreign policy has reinforced European concerns. His unilateral decisions—such as withdrawing from international agreements, imposing tariffs on European allies, and abruptly halting military assistance to Ukraine—have been perceived as aligning more closely with authoritarian adversaries like Russia and China than with traditional democratic allies.

From a neorealist perspective, these actions accelerate what Kenneth Waltz predicted: the inevitable balancing against U.S. power. If the U.S. is no longer willing to play the role of stabilizer, then Europe must step into that void. And if the U.S. begins behaving in a way that actively destabilizes its allies, then Europe must prepare to counterbalance American influence.

Strategic Autonomy: Europe’s Move Toward Self-Reliance

In response to this shifting landscape, European nations have taken steps toward greater strategic autonomy:

• Increased Defense Spending: Germany, France, and other EU nations have proposed significant defense budgets to reduce reliance on U.S. military support. NATO’s European members are meeting or exceeding the 2% GDP defense spending target—not because of Trump’s demands, but because they increasingly see no other choice.

• Independent Military Capabilities: The European Union has launched new defense initiatives, such as the €800 billion ReArm Europe initiative, designed to enhance military capacity independent of the United States.

• New Strategic Alliances: European leaders are exploring closer security ties with each other and with emerging global powers, signaling a shift away from automatic alignment with Washington.

The United States as a Potential Threat

This reassessment of America’s role is not merely about reliability; it is about risk. Under balance-of-threat theory, states align against actors they perceive as dangerous. Traditionally, Europe viewed Russia as the primary threat—hence NATO’s post-Cold War expansion. But if the United States becomes an unreliable, erratic, or destabilizing force, then it too becomes something European nations must hedge against.

For decades, U.S. foreign policy was guided by a kind of implicit bargain: America provided stability, and in return, allies followed its lead. But realism tells us that alliances are not permanent; they exist only as long as they serve mutual interests. If Trump—or any future U.S. president—continues to weaken these foundations, Europe will adapt. And adaptation means shifting from dependence on the U.S. to a world where Europe is prepared to act independently—even if that means counterbalancing American influence.

The End of American Primacy?

From a realist perspective, this is the natural course of international relations. Hegemonic powers do not last forever. As Waltz predicted, unipolarity is inherently unstable; other states will eventually seek to balance against the dominant power. That process is now accelerating—not because of China, Russia, or any external force, but because of the actions of the United States itself.

Trump may not have intended to dismantle America’s global position, but if the world no longer trusts the United States as a stabilizing force, then the end of American primacy will not come from foreign challengers—it will come from within.

What This Means for Americans: A World Where Europe Acts Alone

For the average American, the idea of Europe developing its own military power independent of the United States may seem abstract—something for policymakers and defense analysts to worry about. Undoubtedly for some in MAGA (and the President’s supporters), they’ll cheer it, wrongly believing that Europe is a freeloader. Average Americans may also share this view, thinking they’ll always be the “top dog,” despite whatever comes down the pike.

The reality is that this shift carries profound consequences for U.S. influence, economic stability, and even national security. What Trump is doing is playing “Russian Roulette” with our national survival. Each misstep, we spin the revolver, put it to our head, and pull the trigger. Eventually, we’re going to catch that bullet. This is a question of when, not if.

For nearly 80 years, the United States has been the primary security guarantor for Europe. This arrangement wasn’t just about protecting allies—it gave the U.S. enormous leverage over European political and economic decisions. For a guy who claims to be a genius businessman, the reality of this fact is ignored, or outright lied about. We run the world the way it is because it benefits us. These people aren’t freeloaders, but our servants, or at least they were.

American leadership in NATO ensured that European nations aligned with U.S. interests, followed Washington’s lead in global crises, and remained economically and militarily dependent on American power. When that changes—if Europe becomes a fully independent military power—then the U.S. loses one of its greatest strategic advantages. At best, we become a powerful actor attempting to survive in a multi-polar world. At worst, the wealth, power, prestige, and safety Americans enjoyed for five generations will evaporate in less than a decade; all for lies, defamatory statements, and capricious desires of a fatally flawed felon who was elected President.

The Loss of Strategic Leverage

One of the biggest benefits of the current system is that the United States, as Europe’s primary military protector, effectively sets the terms of transatlantic policy. That’s why Europe has followed the U.S. on key foreign policy issues—sanctions against adversaries, military interventions, and diplomatic positioning. Despite all of the “bullshit,” and defamatory remarks from Republicans and Trump, Europe, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, and Japan have followed the U.S. Our allies have been there for us, economically, militarily, and politically. They might not have done exactly what we wanted, but not once have any of them ever stood opposed to us.

That’s going to end thanks to the President.

A militarily independent Europe would no longer need to align with Washington. Moreover, it is doubtful that it will align itself with our interests at all absent the security and economic ties that have bound us for generations. If European nations have the ability to defend themselves without U.S. assistance, they also can ignore U.S. pressure. Donald Trump likes to talk about “Fuck you,” money; in international affairs, military capability is “Fuck you,” money.

When Trump destroys the international framework, this is what Americans can look forward to:

• Less U.S. control over economic policy – Europe would be free to trade with adversaries like China and Russia without fear of U.S. retaliation. If Washington pushes for sanctions, Europe could refuse. That would effectively make the US’s leadership position impotent. While the US is the largest market, it’s only the largest as long as it controls trade and economics. If it loses its leverage to coordinate the other developed economies of the world, nearly half of our soft (and hard power) evaporates with that choice.

• More divergence on military action – Europe would no longer be obligated to participate in U.S.-led interventions. If America wanted European support in a conflict—whether in the Middle East, Asia, or elsewhere—European leaders could decline without fear of losing U.S. security guarantees. Even more problematic, would be if Europe takes a position against the United States.

• A competing power in global affairs – Instead of working as Washington’s junior partner, Europe could emerge as an independent pole in a multipolar world, negotiating its alliances and setting policies that may contradict U.S. interests. While the US and its allies have been aligned, in an environment where the U.S. is antagonistic, Europe will undoubtedly move to undermine the U.S. In this regard, Trump’s legacy will be to have destroyed the ability of the U.S. to be “the leader of the free world.” At best, we’d be relegated to being just another voice. Again, that’s “at best.”

An Economic Blow to the United States

Beyond military strategy, this shift could have profound economic implications for the U.S. Again, for a guy who allegedly is such a great businessman, this is a self inflicted business wound without any basis in fact other than MAGA’s delusions and defamatory positions about our allies:

• The weakening of the U.S. defense industry – European nations currently buy TRILLIONS of dollars in American weapons and military equipment over a decade of time because they are integrated into NATO’s command structure. If Europe develops an independent military-industrial complex, American defense contractors could lose billions in arms sales. As it presently stands, I would expect Europe to completely abandon the F-35 fighter. That loss alone will be tantamount to a loss of hundreds of billions of dollars in revenue for America’s A&D industry. The United States cannot sell its top-line equipment to the likes of Russia or China. For one, the Europeans would not allow it (they would sanction and attack the United States), and for another, the Russians and Chinese can’t afford it even if we were reckless enough to lose our minds and attempt to sell such weapons to them. The relationship we have with Europe ensures that the United States A&D industry makes hundreds of billions in revenues and that “the West” remains well armed with US weapons. Again, this is a choice made by MAGA and the President, it’s nothing being driven by outside forces; it’s a choice made by delusion and defamation.

• A challenge to the U.S. dollar’s dominance—The U.S. dollar is the world’s reserve currency, in large part because American military power underpins global economic stability. If Europe becomes a self-sufficient power center, it is more likely that it will push for alternative reserve currencies, reducing global dependence on the dollar. “Eddies” could easily replace the “Greenback” around the world; especially if the ECB and its leaders in France and Germany are stable, and the US is led by an Orange Orangutan who imposes tariffs without warning and flip-flops daily with no explicable reason.

• A shift in trade relationships – Without security dependence on the U.S., European nations would be free to prioritize economic ties with China, India, and other rising powers, weakening Washington’s economic influence.

A More Unstable World for the U.S.

For decades, U.S. foreign policy has operated under the assumption that the transatlantic alliance provides global stability. A fractured alliance means a less predictable world—one in which American leaders can no longer assume that Europe will be on their side. We could face France, Germany, and Britain in a conflict; especially if we’re reckless enough to align ourselves with Russia and China.

This could manifest in several ways:

• America could find itself alone, or at worst opposed, in major global conflicts. If the U.S. engages in a standoff with China over Taiwan, or a military confrontation with Iran, Europe could decide to remain neutral—or even act as a mediator rather than an ally. Or worse, given power politics, they could actively undermine the U.S. Given their knowledge of our strategy, training, doctrine, capabilities, intelligence gathering, etc., this would prove FATAL.

• European military power could counterbalance U.S. economic interests. A militarized and independent Europe would have the capability to challenge U.S. dominance in global institutions like the UN, the IMF, and the World Bank.

• Russia and China could benefit from U.S.-European division. If Washington and Brussels are no longer in lockstep, adversaries could exploit the cracks in the Western alliance, striking deals that weaken U.S. leverage. This means Americans wind up poorer, less safe, and ultimately, relegated to being a “nobody” in international affairs.

Trump’s desire appears to be to bring an End To American Leadership

This shift doesn’t necessarily mean Europe will become an outright rival to the U.S. (although don’t kid yourself, that could happen). Still, it does mean the era of unquestioned American leadership would end.

For decades, America’s global power rested on two pillars:

1. Economic strength – The dominance of the U.S. dollar, the strength of its global economy, and its leadership of the global financial system.

2. Military alliances – The ability to dictate security arrangements through NATO and other coalitions.

If Europe no longer needs U.S. military protection, one of those pillars will crumble. If economic power follows, the world will move into a multipolar era, where the U.S. will be just one of several competing power centers rather than the dominant force shaping the global order.

The irony is that none of this had to happen.

No foreign enemy forced this upon us.

An external force didn’t threaten America’s position at the top of the global hierarchy—it was self-inflicted. When Washington began treating allies as disposable, those allies began planning for a world where they didn’t need Washington. The President’s defamatory and delusional positions force our “friends” to turn their backs and walk away.

They have no choice. Get it wrong, you die. I’d treat us as an enemy as well.

Europe’s shift toward military independence is not just a geopolitical development—it’s a reckoning for the United States. Every American will feel the consequences in ways they may not realize until they cry out in the pain brought about by reckless and callous regard for the system built and cared for from FDR to Biden.

The Future We Could Have Had

When I was younger, I lived in a world where the United States led a global coalition of nations—where American strength, diplomacy, and vision powered the free world.

Reagan revitalized American leadership, and from that point forward, we built the most prosperous and stable era in human history. The system forged at Potsdam, Bretton Woods, and NATO laid the foundation for a world where:

• The Soviet Union collapsed without a shot being fired in Central Europe.

• New democracies emerged across the world.

• Global trade lifted billions out of poverty.

• The United States strode the world like a colossus, unmatched in power, influence, and stability.

Even now, the so-called "rise of China" is more myth than reality—they are a paper tiger, overhyped and far more fragile than they appear.

For decades, the United States had no true rival. We dictated the terms. We shaped the future.

Yet instead of stewarding that legacy—leading our coalition through the challenges of AI, climate change, and globalization—this President has chosen to dismantle everything:

Everything our allies fought beside us for.

Everything every American in uniform gave their last full measure of devotion to uphold.

Everything that every immigrant that came to this country helped to build.

And for what?

A string of petty slights and self-inflicted delusions?

A tantrum over alliances that have kept us powerful?

A reckless, ignorant rejection of the very system that made America great in the first place?

History will remember this moment.

And when Americans feel the pain of what’s been lost—when they realize that our power, economy, and influence have slipped away—not because of war, external enemies, but because of our negligence—there will be no one else to blame.

While everybody might have wanted to rule the world. When history looks back, they’re going to draw one conclusion:

We did.

When I worked in National Security, I never saw it as partisan, despite being a partisan. I would tell our allies and Democrats that I debated policy with, there are two choices in national security, the ones we survive, and the ones we don’t. With that, I leave readers with this last thought:

UN Headquarters in New York City. I attended my first “UNGA” (The UN General Assembly) in 2005. Bush, Rice, and others addressed members.

Elon Musk, the emerald-mine inheriting transplant, spouting off that the United States should quit everything—the UN, NATO, the local shopper’s club.

Just leave. Walk away.

I’m probably one of the few people you’ll ever read on Substack who’s been to these places, representing the U.S. government. I’ve sat in meetings, and represented the United States, at the UN, OSCE, NATO, OAS, IMF, WHO, OECD, World Bank, and UNHCR. I’ve also met with NGOs like Amnesty and Human Rights Watch.

The U.S. participates in over 50 international organizations and quasi-governmental bodies. Some have names straight out of a Cold War thriller, like The Zangger Committee (named after Swiss professor Claude Zangger, which is objectively a fantastic name for a committee—it deals with nuclear non-proliferation, if you’re wondering).

But why? Why do we bother with all this?

Ask a Republican, and they’ll tell you foreign policy should be two things: an iron boot and someone’s ass getting kicked. That’s it. We should probably open a factory to manufacture more steel-toed boots according to the knuckle dragging Renazican ilk currently in power.

It’s disgusting.

This isn’t just UN bashing. It isn’t just pigheaded.

It’s going to get us all killed.

Diplomacy Is Annoying. I’ll grant you.

I’ll be the first to admit: dealing with the diplomatic world wasn’t always my favorite. If you’ve ever worked with “Geneva” or the broader diplomatic corps, you know exactly what I mean. I spent my career on the security side of the house, which meant dealing with the State Department—often reluctantly. And I get why people find diplomacy frustrating.

The truth is, the U.S. has the raw power to steamroll every country on Earth. If we wanted to, we could throw our weight around, dictate terms, and crush opposition without needing a single bureaucratic meeting in Geneva, Vienna, or New York.

And that’s precisely why it’s a terrible idea.

I didn’t fully appreciate this until I was in those rooms, engaging in those negotiations, seeing firsthand how these institutions work. During my time in government, I connected my experience with the theories of international relations I had studied at GW: the system of world organizations we’ve built isn’t a burden—it’s a tool. One that saves us way more time and money than if we “went it alone.”

Why? Let me explain.

Mancur Who?

This is where my practical experience met Mancur Olson, an economist who taught at the University of Maryland and wrote The Logic of Collective Action.

Olson asked a deceptively simple question: Why does anyone ever agree to do anything with anyone? At least when it comes to large groups of people working together.

His work wasn’t just about governments—it was about cooperation in general. Why do neighbors work together for collective security (like having a police watch)? Why do businesses form alliances? Why do states enter treaties instead of just doing whatever they want?

If you’ve ever done a group project, you already understand the problem. There’s always:

• One person who does all the work

• One person who actively gets in the way

• A couple of people who coast and contribute nothing

And yet, somehow, the project gets turned in.

Why? Because despite all the inefficiencies and free riders, collective action still works better than going it alone.

That’s why we participate in international organizations—not because we have to or because we’re weak, but because leveraging the system is smarter than trying to do everything ourselves.

This was the “ah ha!” moment from Mancur Olson’s work, The Logic of Collective Action. Can we go it alone? Sure. But it costs way more time and money than leveraging the institutions we’ve built.

And here’s the big idea: we have built a system of institutions that allows us to manage the world at scale. We, the United States, have done something that no other “empire,” has ever accomplished. Figured out a way to manage the entire world without increasing demands for power.

We could, presuming the Orange Jackass doesn’t force the Republic to commit suicide, manage international affairs indefinitely. Despite all the naysayers, the international order we have built is remarkably resilient and strong. The only way it could collapse is if we destroy it from within.

That’s precisely what is occurring here. Trump and Musk are taking a sledgehammer to what took 80 years to build. In doing so, they’re dismantling all the systems that allow us to project our power for mere pennies. We get tens of thousands of dollars back for those pennies spent. The rewards are enormous.

That’s why China and Russia stand back in both stunned amazement and glee as Trump berates Zenenskyy, and Musk demands we withdraw from the UN and NATO. America no longer needs to be contained, she’s containing herself and destroying her own power before their very eyes.

It marks a radical change from who we have been for the last four generations. This is not wise, it’s not “radical,” it’s not innovative, it’s not “genius.” It’s absolute “Hillbilly elegly stupidity” raised to the level of a suicidal performance art.

The International Court of Justice building in the Netherlands. I loved the Netherlands. Chimay is an awesome beer. (LOL!) The Dutch are amazing. I stayed in Nijmegen for a period because I couldn’t get a hotel rooms in Amsterdam, which I also thought was awesome since I loved the movie A Bridge Too Far. Yes, I did go see the bridge. It crosses the Waal River.

Strength Comes from Strategy, Not Just Power

The U.S. plays the game of diplomacy and international institutions because we built it. These institutions weren’t imposed on us—we created them. They are extensions of our influence, tools we can use to structure global stability in ways that benefit us. They reduce the costs of us maintaining a system that benefits us in ways that most Americans won’t appreciate until they’re gone.

Could we leave? Sure. And we’d quickly find ourselves in a world where other powers—China, Russia, the EU—step in to write the rules instead.

Maybe that’s what “The Manchurian President,” and his crypto-lackey want. I didn’t accept those arguments before, but it’s getting increasingly harder to ignore the case.

But know this, once we’re on the outside, we don’t get to complain about the results. Even with all of our power, it will be considerably more difficult to fight against the machinery, and Americans have become very accustomed to an international order that effortlessly bends to their will.

That’s the real reason we stay. Not out of altruism, not because we’re suckers, but because it’s in our best interest to set the rules rather than be ruled by them.

You may think this is all hyperbole. Let’s explore what the world looks like for America if we follow the billionaire LARPing as a 19th-Century coal barron’s advice on foreign policy:

What the World Looks Like for Americans if China Makes the Rules

Let’s say we take Musk’s advice. We walk away. The U.S. pulls out of the UN, NATO, the WTO, the WHO, and everything else that makes up the international system. I mean that’s where they want to go with this bullshit. Let’s just cut to the chase already. We tell the world we’re done playing diplomat and that from now on, we’ll only engage bilaterally when we want to rape them of minerals, land, or when there’s a war to fight or a trade deal to cut.

Great. So what happens next?

China steps in.

HARD.

Not with tanks. Not with aircraft carriers. But with money, markets, and influence. The same tools we once used to shape the world order. Except now, the rules aren’t being written in Washington.

They’re being written in Beijing.

And I hate to admit this, those guys are smart motherfuckers. And oddly enough, they learned their tricks of the trade from us. They know how to play this game. They’re good at it. They will recognize this as a once in the entire history of the Universe moment to seize control of the international system. They will go for broke without restraint. Their ambassadors will go out en masse to countries around the world. Their companies will leverage deals. They will make an unprecedented push, and in a decade or a generation they will accomplish what took us 80 years.

What does that mean for Americans?

1. Good luck trading on “free and fair” terms.

The U.S. gets favorable trade deals because we set the terms of institutions like the WTO. If we leave, China starts shaping the rules—and those rules won’t favor us. The Chinese economy is massive, and without the U.S. leading trade negotiations, American companies would be left playing by Beijing’s rules.

That means:

• Higher tariffs on American goods

• More restrictions on U.S. exports

• China dictating global supply chains

If you think inflation is bad now, wait until the entire global trade network is tilted against us.

2. The internet? It’s not yours anymore.

Currently, the internet is governed by Western norms: free expression, open access, and minimal government control. That’s not an accident—it’s the result of U.S. leadership in organizations that set digital governance standards.

China, meanwhile, has been aggressively pushing its “cyber sovereignty” model, which prioritizes:

• Government-controlled internet access

• Strict censorship and surveillance

• State-approved digital platforms (Think: no more Twitter, no more Google, only government-controlled equivalents)

If we abandon the international regulatory bodies overseeing the digital world, China will happily fill the void—and your internet will start looking much more like theirs.

3. Taiwan is gone. The Pacific is Chinese territory.

China wants Taiwan. The only thing stopping them is the U.S. security umbrella, which is backed by alliances like NATO, AUKUS, and the Quad (Japan, Australia, India, U.S.).

If we step back, it’s over. Beijing moves in, takes Taiwan, and consolidates power across the Pacific. Japan and South Korea suddenly realize they’re on their own and start cutting deals with China instead of resisting it—because what choice do they have?

The U.S. military can still project power, but it gets exponentially harder to check Chinese expansion without alliances. And if you think that doesn’t affect you, wait until your iPhone suddenly costs $3,000 because China controls the entire semiconductor supply chain.

All of that may not happen right away, but who knows, it may happen immediately. Trump sends mixed signals on Taiwan. He may not have a choice either way. If China attacks Taiwan, and the United States has so alienated NATO that it decides not to honor its commitments to the United States (or worse, the US has withdrawn from NATO), then Japan is unlikely to assist, as will Australia. This makes it exceptionally difficult for the US to protect both South Korea (whom the US does have a treaty obligation) and Taiwan (whom the US does not have a treaty obligation to defend.)

Things get a lot more expensive and complicated without friends.

4. The dollar loses its crown.

Why is the U.S. dollar the world’s reserve currency? Because we dominate the institutions that control the global financial system. The World Bank, the IMF, SWIFT—all of these structures reinforce the dollar’s supremacy.

Now imagine we walk away from all of that. China steps in with its alternative—the digital yuan, backed by state-controlled financial networks.

• More countries start trading in yuan instead of dollars

• The U.S. loses its ability to sanction rogue nations effectively

• Your dollars don’t stretch as far because the world no longer revolves around them

• Oil could stop being denominated in dollars. This would immediately raise all prices in the US.

• The US gets tremendous leverage on its national debt by having the US dollar as a reserve currency. The ability to finance US borrowing would be negatively impacted by devaluing the dollar.

The end result? We stop being the economic superpower.

The UN building in Geneva. The UN complex in Geneva is quite impressive. It’s a series of buildings overlooking Geneva. The United States has the US Mission in Geneva and several properties it owns in the city. They are apartments that were purchased during the Cold War when the US was negotiating arms control agreements and other treaties. I remember I found SALT II staffer notes in the drawer of a bureau in my apartment I stayed. Relics of the past. LOL!

5. American expats and businesses? Good luck.

Right now, Americans traveling abroad benefit from the global framework we helped build. If you lose your passport, the U.S. embassy can fix it. If you get arrested, some treaties ensure due process. If you want to do business abroad, there are protections against unfair treatment.

Take the U.S. out of the equation, and now you’re just another foreigner at the mercy of whoever is making the rules.

• American businesses trying to operate abroad? Now subject to Chinese labor and business laws.

• Americans accused of crimes overseas? Good luck—you’re getting treated by local legal standards, not international agreements that favor due process.

• International disputes? There’s no more U.S. muscle behind you. You’re on your own.

6. Military power means nothing without influence.

Some people believe we'll be fine if we have the “biggest, baddest, military.” That’s cute. Military power only works when it’s paired with economic and diplomatic influence.

If you don’t believe me, look at Russia. Big military, shitty economy. How’s that working out for them.

China doesn’t need to outgun us. They just need to make sure we’re isolated and irrelevant.

And if we walk away from international institutions, we hand them that victory on a silver platter.

Now many of you think Trump is the “Manchurian President.” I’m not sure if that’s entirely true, but, en arguendo, let’s presume it is. What’s the world look like if Russia’s influence rises, or God forbid, Russia takes the reins?

What the World Looks Like for Americans if Russia Makes the Rules

Let’s say, for the sake of insanity, we don’t just walk away from the international system—we let Russia take the driver’s seat.

Not because Russia is an economic powerhouse (it’s not). Not because it has the soft power of Hollywood, Silicon Valley, and global trade dominance (it doesn’t). But because we decided international institutions weren’t worth our time, and we left a power vacuum for Moscow to fill.

What does that mean for Americans?

1. Welcome to a World Where Might Makes Right

The U.S. has spent decades—however imperfectly—building a system in which disputes are supposed to be handled through diplomacy, international law, and economic pressure before force is ever used.

Russia doesn’t do diplomacy.

Russia does brute force.

• Disagree with Moscow? Expect “peacekeepers” to show up in your country.

• Border disputes? Settled with tanks.

• National sovereignty? Only if you can defend it yourself.

And with the U.S. out of the picture, who will stop them? Germany? France? Brazil? They may want to, but with the US unwilling to back them, and possibly even supplying the Russians with arms, that would be a dicey proposition.

If Russia gets to write the rules, the world will look much more like the 19th century, when the strong did whatever they wanted and the weak shut up or got steamrolled.

2. Europe Becomes a Russian Playground

Right now, the U.S. keeps NATO alive. If we step back, NATO collapses. And without NATO, Europe is Russia’s sandbox.

• The Baltics? Gone. Moscow takes them back without firing a shot.

• Ukraine? Fully conquered. No American weapons are flowing in anymore.

• Poland? Finland? Sweden? They either submit or fight alone.

The result? A fractured Europe dependent on Russian energy, Russian trade, and Russian political influence. And that matters for Americans, because a weak, divided Europe means:

• Russia controls global energy prices. Hope you like oil shocks.

• Russia dictates financial markets. Good luck with your 401(k).

• Russia picks winners and losers in global trade. And the U.S. isn’t one of the winners.

3. Democracy Becomes an Endangered Species

Think democracy is struggling now? Imagine a world where Russia is the global standard-bearer for governance.

• Autocracy becomes the norm.

• Elections? Optional.

• Press freedom? A joke.

In this world, Moscow’s model—state-controlled media, political assassinations, and rigged elections—becomes the blueprint.

American influence once encouraged democratic movements around the world. Without it, opposition parties in fragile democracies start disappearing. Independent journalists? Vanishing. Political dissent? Met with an icepick to the skull.

And if you think that stays overseas, think again. Once the global consensus shifts away from democracy, even the U.S. will start seeing more and more politicians argue, Why not us too?

4. The U.S. Becomes a Global Outcast

The U.S. can now strong-arm countries into standing with us through diplomacy, economic leverage, and alliances. We make the rules.

In a Russian-led world, we don’t.

• Need a global coalition for sanctions? Nobody’s listening.

• Want to push for human rights? Cute, but Russia controls the UN Security Council now.

• Want to do business in key markets? Better hope Moscow approves of your trade deals.

Countries that once had to pretend at least to care about human rights, democracy, and fair trade will stop pretending. Because why would they? There’s no more U.S.-led system holding them accountable.

5. Your Life as an American Traveler Just Got a Lot Worse

Right now, if you’re an American abroad, you have a safety net. If you get detained unjustly, the U.S. State Department can apply pressure. If you get hurt, international agreements ensure basic rights and protections.

Now imagine a world where Russia dictates how international law works.

• Arrested abroad? The U.S. has no leverage to get you back.

• Wrong place, wrong time? You’re now a pawn in Moscow’s hostage diplomacy game.

• Global corruption? Standard operating procedure. You don’t have the right bribes? You don’t get a lawyer, a hearing, or a fair trial.

The U.S. once ensured at least a baseline of international legal norms. With Russia calling the shots, you better pray your government still has the clout to protect you.

6. Forget Free Speech—Even in the U.S.

Russia has spent years funding, supporting, and weaponizing political division inside the U.S. If they get to write the global rules, expect that strategy to go into overdrive.

• State-sponsored propaganda replaces independent media. If you think disinformation is bad now, wait until Russian-backed networks shape the entire global news cycle.

• Dissent is criminalized. Russia’s model isn’t debate your opponent—it’s poison them with Novichok.

• Protest movements? Targeted as “foreign threats.” Moscow’s rulebook doesn’t allow opposition. The U.S., having lost its global influence, starts playing by the same rules.

A world order shaped by Russia doesn’t just make life worse for people overseas—it erodes our freedoms at home.

7. China Still Wins, Too

The irony? If Russia gets to shape global power structures, China still wins.

Moscow isn’t an economic superpower—it’s a military and political spoiler. But China? China is the world’s factory. If Russia gets to build a world where authoritarianism is the default setting, that world ultimately benefits Beijing just as much—if not more.

So now you have:

• Russia dictating military conflicts

• China dictating trade and technology

• The U.S.? Just another player, not the rule-maker

And if you think we can “make a comeback” later, history says otherwise. Great powers that voluntarily surrender influence don’t just waltz back in when they feel like it.

They get left behind.

Now, what if, say, the Euros take over. It’s possible. It’s not super likely, but it could happen. You might be hoping for a Franco-Prussian savior?

Guess again.

What the World Looks Like if Europe Takes Over and Writes the Rules

Let’s say the U.S. walks away from the global stage, but instead of China or Russia filling the vacuum, Europe steps up.

Best-case scenario, right? At least Europe is democratic, relatively stable, and not looking to annex its neighbors (for the most part). Maybe a world led by Brussels, Berlin, and Paris wouldn’t be so bad?

Well… not so fast.

A piece of the WTC outside the NATO HQ in Brussels. Our NATO allies invoked Article V for the first time in its history, without hesitation, and without being asked, in response to the United States being attacked on 9/11. That’s who Musk, that uncouth, hat wearing in the White House motherfucker, wants to throw casually aside like a piece of garbage.

1. The World Becomes a Bureaucratic Nightmare

If you think Washington is slow, wait until you get Brussels. The European Union thrives on committees, subcommittees, and regulatory bodies stacked on top of more regulatory bodies. Everything takes years to decide.

Trade agreements? Buried in endless negotiations.
Military responses? A debate club instead of a strategy session.
Major crises? Handled by panels, not leadership.

Under EU leadership, the world doesn’t become authoritarian, but it becomes a sluggish, overregulated mess. The kind of world where business innovation dies under 500-page compliance forms and geopolitical decisions require consensus from 27 countries that can barely agree on what to eat for lunch.

2. The U.S. Economy Gets Squeezed by EU Standards

Right now, U.S. companies set the tone for global markets. Tech, finance, energy—we dominate because we write the rules. If Europe takes over, that changes.

• Tech regulation? U.S. companies now answer to the GDPR on steroids. Say goodbye to Silicon Valley dominance.

• Environmental policy: Europe’s carbon tax will become the global standard, forcing U.S. industries to comply or lose access to international markets.

• Trade agreements? Europe prioritizes labor rights and sustainability over economic power, meaning U.S. corporations lose leverage.

In short, America’s economic muscle is put into a European diet.

3. U.S. Military Power Becomes Obsolete

Europe is not a military power. Even now, NATO depends on U.S. firepower. If Europe leads the world, defense policy becomes an exercise in conflict avoidance at all costs.

That means:

• No hard deterrence against Russia or China—just more “strategic dialogue.”

• No real military intervention capability—because Germany still doesn’t want to pay for tanks.

• No rapid response to crises—everything needs a vote, a review, and a UN resolution before action is taken.

Without U.S. military dominance, the world’s security umbrella turns into a diplomatic roundtable that takes years to reach a decision—by which time the war is already over.

4. The U.S. Becomes Just Another Player

Right now, the U.S. shapes global systems. If Europe takes over, we don’t disappear—we just become one of many voices.

And that means:

• The dollar is no longer the world’s uncontested reserve currency.

• U.S. foreign policy becomes secondary to European consensus.

• America, for the first time in a century, isn’t at the center of global decision-making.

It’s not the worst outcome—but it’s a demotion. Instead of leading, we’re just another country in the room, following rules we no longer write.

Violence or A Softer, Weaker World Order

If Russia or China take over, things get dark in a hurry. We soon find ourselves on the back foot with our interests challenged and the possibility for conflict, even war, surging.

If Europe takes over, the world doesn’t become dystopian. But it becomes more fragile, bureaucratic, and less capable of decisive action. This might prove just as dangerous.

In either case, the United States will lose control over the world’s order, placing our interests at risk and America at best in the middle. This isn’t making “America Great Again,” it’s making America mediocre. And again, that’s the best possible outcome. The most likely outcome is an America facing subjugation, either economically, politically, or possibly physically.

The United States has enjoyed a power structure for almost a century, creating the longest period of peace and prosperity in the world. That period ends either violently (with Russia and China) or, in the last scenario, perhaps unceremoniously in bureaucratic mush.

And remember, Europe is the best outcome. It’s also the least likely to happen, I’m afraid. In international affairs, the strong do what they will, the weak suffer what they must. The most likely outcome is that China will fill the vacuum. This isn’t paranoia, it’s power politics.

The Choice Is Ours—Lead or be subjugated

This isn’t about altruism, ideology, or fairness. It’s about power. The U.S. has spent decades building an international order that—while imperfect—fundamentally benefits us. It allows us to shape trade, set security parameters, and dictate the modern world's norms.

Walking away doesn’t mean the game stops. It just means we hand the pen to someone else—China, Russia, the EU—and accept whatever rules they write. And once we’re on the outside, it won’t matter how much military power we still have, how many aircraft carriers we float, or how many dollars we print. Influence isn’t about brute strength alone—it’s about shaping the playing field before the game starts.

America’s dominance has never been a given. It’s been a choice. One we made by structuring global institutions in our favor, by ensuring economic and military alliances reinforce our power, and by refusing to let rival powers dictate the terms of engagement.

The Orange Jackass sits there in his chair, in the Oval, berating allies, acting like he holds all the cards. For a while, our power will protect us (the United States). We’re like a gigantic rock rolling down the hill with tremendous momentum.

Eventually that potential energy will be transferred into spent energy. When that happens, the jackals will leap to fill the vacuum created by America’s leadership failures under Trump.

The real question isn’t whether we can walk away. It’s whether we’re ready for the consequences when we do. Once you walk away from the table, you don’t get to demand a seat when the meal is already served.

We will be left out in the cold, wondering why we’re poorer and weaker and scrambling for scraps.

That’s what is at stake.

Today marks the third year of the war in Ukraine.

I want to recognize the heroic—and I do mean heroic—efforts of the Ukrainian people.

As someone who spent years as a national security expert, I’ll admit: I didn’t give Ukraine much credit at first. I believed the Russians would overwhelm them. Not because I doubted Ukraine’s will to fight—I knew they would. I expected them to fight fiercely. But I believed that Russia’s sheer military force would be impossible to resist.

And yet, resist they did.

The people of Ukraine have fought for their freedom, their homes, and their lives. Russia has attacked civilians; Ukraine has defended against the military. One side has committed war crimes; the other has fought honorably in the defense of its land.

They’ve sunk ships without a navy.
They’ve destroyed armor without heavy infantry.
They’ve challenged one of the world’s largest air forces.

What they’ve accomplished is nothing short of extraordinary.

Yes, Ukraine has received assistance from the European Union and the United States. Frankly, I wish the United States had provided more. But even before Western aid arrived, Ukraine took the fight to Russia. They were never waiting to be saved.

And now, America is abandoning them.

It is appalling that President Trump is a Soviet apologist. Some may bristle at the term, but it is accurate. Putin does not simply seek to expand Russia—he seeks to restore the Soviet sphere. His war is not just about Ukraine; it is about re-subjugating former vassal states and reversing decades of history.

And now, America—once the standard-bearer of freedom—is choosing to side with Putin. This is a betrayal of everything we have historically stood for. A betrayal of those who fight for self-determination. A reckless abdication of our leadership in the free world.

Ukraine will endure.

President Zelensky is a true leader. He understands, as Churchill did, that:

“Nations that go down fighting rise again, but those who surrender tamely are finished.”

And he will not surrender.

But what about America?

The United States and the United Kingdom made promises to Ukraine in exchange for its nuclear disarmament. They have broken those promises. And because of this failure, we will never again see another nuclear state voluntarily disarm.

Ukraine will fight to the bitter end. And they will remember who abandoned them.

I can only hope the European Union steps into the void America has left. Ukraine must win this war through decisive victory—not just for its own survival but for Europe’s security. If Russia prevails, this will not be the end. It will be the beginning of a march westward.

You know it. I know it. The Europeans know it. The Ukrainians know it.

The Russians know it.

And the Russians are counting on it.

The only person who doesn’t seem to know—or care—is the man in the White House.

The American people shouldn’t stand for it.

They should be standing with the people of Ukraine.

I cannot believe I must write this, but here we are.

A viral TikTok with 20 million views is claiming that Canada is preparing for war with the U.S.—and people are taking it seriously:

@itskatarnettThis isn’t a joke, it’s extremely serious. If you speak to an American please tell them what is going on. #truenorth #canadian

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My good friend Olivia has the right take: this isn’t about attacking Canada—it’s about pushing the boundaries of international norms. And that’s bad enough.

But let’s be clear: the idea that the U.S. would invade Canada is beyond insane. It’s not just reckless—it’s suicidal. America wouldn’t be adding a 51st state. It would be signing its death warrant.

And yet, we are led by a man who admires dictators, despises allies, and has no grasp of military strategy—so I’ve stopped saying “That would never happen.” If I were Justin Trudeau, I’d stop saying it, too.

So, let’s entertain the absurd: What if the U.S. actually tried to invade Canada?

The answer is simple: it would be the greatest strategic disaster in American history—one that could end the Republic itself.

Let’s talk about why.

Canada is not Iraq

Let’s be clear about who we’d be attacking. These are not insurgents running around in sandals with AK-47s, yelling “Allahu Akbar!” from behind rocks, or a rag-tag third-world army with crappy Soviet-made weapons and officers who had three minutes of tactical school.

The Canadians have front-line weapons, combat discipline, exceptionally well-trained leadership, and troops that are the best in the world. The Germans in WWII referred to the Canadian/American special combat force as “Die Teufelsbrigade” (The Devil’s Brigade), and with good reason. The Nazis called the Canadian forces at the battle of the Somme “Sturmtruppen” (stormtroopers - elite shock troops.) Canadian troops are well-armed and well-supplied, and they would be fighting on their own turf. They know the terrain better than any invading force ever could, and they would have every possible advantage.

This would not be Iraq, Afghanistan, Grenada, or even Vietnam. It would be the most serious conflict since the invasion of Normandy, the Battle of the Bulge, or Gettysburg. And this time, the enemy would see us coming. The Canadians know American doctrine, strategy, and tactics inside and out. Why? Because they helped develop them. They are integrated into our intelligence channels. We gather intelligence alongside them. The notion that we could somehow keep an invasion of Canada a secret is laughable. The moment we cut off intelligence sharing, they would immediately know an attack was imminent. From that point forward, they would know exactly what to expect and how to counter it.

If this nonsense about annexing Canada into the United States as the 51st state is meant to be a joke, it’s not a funny one. If it’s meant to be serious, then we are dealing with a level of ignorance that is truly terrifying.

Canada is not Iraq. And Trump is not a leader.

Highly Trained and Capable Forces

The Canadian Armed Forces (CAF) consist of three branches: the Canadian Army, the Royal Canadian Navy (RCN), and the Royal Canadian Air Force (RCAF). Each branch operates with NATO-level training and coordination, ensuring that it remains combat-ready for a range of conventional and asymmetric threats. Canada has long deployed troops alongside U.S. and NATO forces in Afghanistan, Iraq, and various peacekeeping missions, demonstrating its professionalism and battle readiness.

• Army – The Canadian Army is well-equipped with modern armored vehicles, artillery, and advanced surveillance systems. They operate Leopard 2 main battle tanks, LAV 6.0 armored fighting vehicles, and M777 howitzers—highly effective in defensive operations.

• Navy – The RCN commands a fleet of Halifax-class frigates, Victoria-class submarines, and Arctic patrol vessels that extend Canadian military reach beyond its borders. Their ability to patrol the North Atlantic and Arctic ensures significant control over key maritime areas.

• Air Force – The RCAF maintains a formidable fleet of CF-18 Hornets (soon to be replaced by F-35 Lightning II jets), CC-177 Globemaster III heavy-lift aircraft, and a sophisticated air defense network. Their NORAD integration with U.S. forces ensures immediate threat detection and response.

Home Turf Advantage

The biggest factor in Canada’s defense strategy is geography. A U.S. invasion would require overcoming massive logistical challenges:

• Canada has vast, open landscapes with extreme winter conditions, making large-scale troop movements difficult.

• Canada’s road and rail networks are designed for economic use, not military invasions, creating natural chokepoints.

• Canada’s major urban centers are clustered, making guerilla warfare and urban resistance highly effective.

Deep NATO Integration and Strategic Partnerships

Canada’s membership in NATO and its alliances with the U.K., Australia, and European partners mean any attack would likely trigger a global response. Canadian forces regularly train with U.S. and allied forces, meaning they know American strategies, tactics, and weaknesses.

Cyber and Intelligence Warfare

Canada’s signals intelligence agency, the Communications Security Establishment (CSE), works alongside the NSA and GCHQ in digital warfare. Any U.S. attack would be met with immediate countermeasures in cyberwarfare, disrupting logistics, command structures, and even domestic infrastructure.

What It Would Take

If the U.S. seriously attempted to invade and subjugate Canada without using nuclear weapons, it would require one of the most extensive military operations in modern history—on par with D-Day or the Gulf War. Success would not be guaranteed, and the effort would be fraught with extreme logistical, strategic, and geopolitical challenges. Here’s my “back of the envelope” (literally, I did this on the back of an envelope on my desk) calculation of what it would take1:

1. Full-Scale Military Mobilization

The U.S. military would have to divert massive resources to launch and sustain an invasion of Canada. This would require:

• Hundreds of thousands of ground troops deployed across multiple fronts. The U.S. would need at least 750,000 combat troops (likely more, I estimated, about 60 divisions minimum) to establish minimal control over the major cities and infrastructure. This is minimal control. Minimal control is hardly what you want, I’d add. Ideally, you’d want 200 divisions (but we don’t have 200 to deploy.)

• Massive logistical support, including fuel, food, medical supplies, and winter warfare gear, given Canada's harsh climate. We’re talking $10K in supplies per person per day. That’s millions of dollars in weekly supplies for 60-200 divisions.

• Extended supply lines stretching thousands of miles across rugged, sometimes impassable terrain. Unlike Iraq, where supply routes were easily secured, Canada’s terrain would make resupply operations far more vulnerable to Canadian counterattacks and sabotage. That means the cost of supplies goes up, so now it costs 20-30K per man because we’re losing the supplies to insurgents.

2. Key Strategic Objectives & Theaters of Operation

To subdue Canada, the U.S. would need to control its major population centers, key transportation hubs, and critical infrastructure while cutting off Canadian military capabilities. Here’s what that would look like:

Eastern Front: Seizing Ontario and Quebec

• Toronto, Ottawa, and Montreal are Canada’s largest and most strategically significant cities. Capturing these would be essential for controlling Canada’s government and economy.

• The U.S. would likely invade from New York, Michigan, and Maine, launching simultaneous assaults on major cities and cutting off reinforcements.

• Challenges: Canada’s highly urbanized population in these regions means massive resistance and guerrilla warfare, similar to urban fighting in Iraq but with an enemy that has modern weaponry and home-field advantage.

Western Front: Securing Alberta and British Columbia

• The U.S. would need to seize Vancouver, Canada’s key Pacific port, and Calgary and Edmonton, which are vital for oil and energy production.

• The Rocky Mountains present an enormous natural defensive barrier, making any invasion slow and costly.

• Canadian forces could use mountain terrain to devastating effect, harassing U.S. supply lines in ways that would make Afghanistan look like a minor inconvenience.

Northern Front: Controlling the Arctic & Resources

• Canada controls the Arctic’s vital waterways and resources, and the U.S. would need to secure these to prevent Canadian or allied reinforcements from retaking occupied territory.

• This would require dominance in Arctic warfare, an area where Canada already has an advantage. The extreme conditions would heavily favor defending forces.

3. Overwhelming Air & Naval Superiority

The U.S. military would need to completely dominate Canadian airspace and waters to prevent counterattacks and maintain supply lines.

• Air Superiority: The U.S. would deploy massive air assets, including F-22s, F-35s, and B-2 bombers, to destroy Canadian air defenses. However, Canada’s NORAD integration means it would have prior warning of any attack.

• Naval Dominance: The U.S. Navy would blockade Canada’s eastern and western ports, cutting off international reinforcements. However, Canadian submarines and naval forces would still pose a serious threat.

4. The Force Required to “Win”

Assuming Canada fights to the bitter end, here’s what it would take for the U.S. to subjugate Canada:

• 500,000 to 1,000,000 U.S. troops deployed across the country.

• Full air and naval dominance for extended bombing campaigns.

• Multi-year occupation force of at least 300,000 troops, with ongoing counterinsurgency operations.

• Trillions of dollars in war costs, supply chain logistics, and reconstruction efforts.

Even if the U.S. achieved initial military victories, occupying Canada would be more challenging than occupying Iraq or Afghanistan. The Canadian population would likely resist occupation at every level, forcing the U.S. into a long, drawn-out insurgency.

Attacking Canada wouldn’t just be an act of aggression. It would be the biggest strategic blunder in U.S. history. People will fondly remember Custer after Trump invaded Canada.

General Trumpster & The Trail of Idiocy

Despite having the most powerful military in the world, the United States does not have the necessary force structure to invade, occupy, and control Canada successfully. The logistical, manpower, and strategic requirements far exceed the capacity of the U.S. military as it exists today. Here’s why:

1. The U.S. Military is Not Built for Large-Scale Territorial Conquest

The U.S. military is designed for power projection, not occupation. It is structured to deploy overwhelming force in short, decisive campaigns—not sustain long-term occupations against well-armed, industrialized nations.

• Force Size: The U.S. has roughly 1.3 million active-duty personnel and 800,000 reservists. But only a fraction of this force is combat-ready for sustained operations.

• Combat Troop Availability: At any given time, less than 500,000 ground troops (Army and Marines) are deployable for high-intensity combat. This is nowhere near enough to subdue and hold a country as large as Canada.

• Occupation Requirements: Military doctrine suggests that effective occupation requires 20 troops per 1,000 civilians. With 39 million Canadians, that would require nearly 800,000 troops for long-term stability operations—which the U.S. simply does not have.

In contrast, even during the height of the Iraq and Afghanistan wars, the U.S. struggled to maintain a 150,000-troop presence in just two relatively small countries.

2. The Geography Problem: Canada is Too Big to Control

Canada’s sheer size makes military control nearly impossible. With nearly 10 million square kilometers, it is the second-largest country in the world—larger than the entire U.S.

• The U.S. would have to stretch its military across multiple time zones, controlling vast forests, tundras, mountain ranges, and sprawling urban centers.

• There are only a few key roads and railways connecting Canada’s population centers, which would be easily sabotaged by Canadian defenders.

• Canada’s winter conditions would severely limit U.S. troop movement, supply chains, and combat effectiveness. Even in modern warfare, logistics is everything—and Canada’s geography favors defenders.

A force struggling to control Baghdad and Kabul would be completely incapable of subduing Canada’s massive, diverse terrain.

3. U.S. Industrial and Logistical Capacity is Insufficient

Even if the U.S. were willing to commit to a full-scale invasion, its military-industrial complex does not have the production capacity to sustain such an effort.

• Ammunition and Equipment: The U.S. is already struggling to produce enough munitions for Ukraine and Taiwan. A war against Canada would require exponentially more tanks, armored vehicles, and precision-guided munitions.

• Manpower Shortages: The U.S. military is facing a recruitment crisis, struggling to meet enlistment goals. Expanding the military to invasion levels would require a draft, which would be politically impossible.

• Supply Lines Vulnerability: Unlike previous wars fought overseas, U.S. supply lines in a Canadian invasion would be constantly disrupted by sabotage, harsh weather, and Canadian resistance fighters.

Put simply: the U.S. military was not built for a war of this scale.

4. Canadian Resistance Would Bleed the U.S. Dry

I found this idiotic flag available for sale on a website when I was doing research for this piece as “Trump Flags” about the 51st State. I’m beside myself. There were about five such flag variants you could buy at various MAGA/Trump websites, all looking to cash in on “51st State” lunacy. As H.L. Mencken allegedly said, “Nobody ever went broke underestimating the taste of the American public.”

Let’s assume the U.S. somehow captured key Canadian cities—then what? The real fight would begin.

• Canadian Guerrilla Warfare: The moment an occupation began, every Canadian town and province would turn into a high-tech insurgency.

• NATO and International Backlash: Unlike in Iraq or Afghanistan, Canada would immediately receive massive military aid from the United Kingdom, the European Union, and other NATO allies. The U.S. would be fighting not just Canada, but a global coalition.

• Domestic Political Chaos: The American public would not support a drawn-out war against a democratic neighbor. Protests, economic turmoil, and potential civil unrest would cripple the U.S. war effort.

Even in the best-case scenario, the U.S. military would be bled dry by a protracted conflict. And then, things get interesting because we haven’t even talked about how the war widens when the rest of the NATO alliance gets involved, and they will get involved.

Canada’s Allies and the NATO Response

Even if the U.S. could overcome its logistical, manpower, and strategic shortcomings, it would face an even more significant obstacle: Canada is not alone. An attack on Canada would trigger a global military and economic response that would turn a disastrous invasion into a full-blown catastrophe for the United States.

1. NATO’s Collective Defense Clause (Article 5)

Canada is a founding member of NATO (North Atlantic Treaty Organization), the world’s most powerful military alliance. According to Article 5 of the NATO Treaty, an attack on one member is considered an attack on all.

• The moment U.S. forces crossed the border, every NATO member would be obligated to respond militarily.

• This would immediately turn a Canada-U.S. war into a NATO-U.S. war, with the United Kingdom, France, Germany, Italy, and other major European powers deploying troops, aircraft, and naval assets.

• The logistical burden on the U.S. military would increase exponentially, as it would no longer be fighting a single country but a coalition of industrialized nations with cutting-edge militaries. We’re not fighting one great military, but 12 of them - France, Germany, Canada, Iceland, Sweden, Finland, Spain, Norway, Denmark, Netherlands, Belgium, and Italy (not to mention 18 decent ones that make up the 30 in NATO.)

Even if the U.S. were arrogant enough to believe it could defeat Canada alone, it would never survive a war against NATO.

2. The United Kingdom: Canada’s Closest Ally

The United Kingdom, Canada’s historic and military ally, would immediately intervene.

• While smaller than the U.S. forces, the British military is highly capable and technologically advanced. They would provide airpower, special forces, and naval dominance in the Atlantic.

• The SAS and British Royal Marines would train and assist Canadian resistance fighters, just as they did against ISIS and the Taliban. Again, we’re facing another special force that knows our doctrine, strategy, and tactics. They also have a detailed understanding of our infrastructure in all of our major cities since these special force brigades have been assisting the United States in fighting terrorism for the past twenty years.

• The Royal Navy, backed by NATO fleets, would blockade U.S. trade routes and disrupt American supply chains. They would also be able to attack US naval assets, including US carriers. The British and French submarines are just as good as US submarines; they know our tactics and have similar weapons and capabilities. Naval losses could be staggering.

A war against Canada would inevitably become a war against the UK, turning global opinion against the United States.

3. The European Response

While the U.S. remains a dominant military power, a war against Canada would shatter its European alliances.

• Germany, France, and other EU powers would likely contribute forces to Canada while using their economic leverage to cripple the U.S. war effort.

• Military support from NATO could include Eurofighter Typhoons, Leopard II tanks, and advanced air defense systems, making an invasion even more costly for the U.S. The Leopard II is just as capable as the M1A2 Abrams currently deployed (they even use the same armaments package.)

• Sanctions and Economic Warfare: Even if European nations didn’t engage militarily, they would cripple the U.S. economy with severe sanctions, cutting off vital resources and trade.

The United States depends on European allies for logistics, intelligence, and technology. A war against Canada would destroy these relationships overnight.

4. Australia and New Zealand: The Pacific Front

While they may seem distant, Australia and New Zealand would almost certainly respond in defense of Canada.

• Australia’s military is deeply integrated with Canada’s and would likely deploy forces to assist in logistics and active combat.

• New Zealand’s intelligence capabilities (part of the Five Eyes alliance) would be used to counter U.S. movements and support Canadian cyber operations.

• The Pacific region would suddenly become a second front in the war, further overextending U.S. forces.

A war with Canada would not stay confined to North America—it would become a global war spanning multiple continents.

5. The Economic Fallout: China and Russia’s Opportunity

While China and Russia might not intervene militarily, they would exploit the situation.

• China would likely use the distraction to increase its influence in Asia, challenge U.S. dominance in the Pacific, or even invade Taiwan.

• Russia would see this as an opportunity to expand its sphere of influence in Europe or the Arctic.

• The U.S. dollar, stock markets, and global trade networks would collapse as sanctions and trade wars erupted worldwide.

The global balance of power would shift—and not in America’s favor.

This entire time, I’ve been ignoring my friends in the Pentagon. While the “battle abroad” would be one thing. The entire idea that we’d attack an ally unprovoked would create a “battle at home” that would fracture civilian/military relations and create an unparalleled crisis.

How U.S. Military Leadership Would Respond

An order to invade Canada would immediately divide the U.S. military’s leadership, creating a historic crisis within the chain of command. While some generals and defense officials would undoubtedly recognize the insanity of such an operation, others—particularly those who have aligned themselves politically rather than strategically—could be willing enablers of a disastrous war.

1. The Military’s Oath: The First Line of Resistance

Every officer and enlisted member of the U.S. military swears an oath to “support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic.”

• An unprovoked attack on Canada would be illegal, violating international law and the U.S. Constitution, which binds the nation to its treaties, including NATO.

• Military leaders are trained to recognize and resist unlawful orders—a doctrine reinforced since the Nuremberg Trials.

• Professional military officers—those who take their duty seriously—would resist this order, refuse to carry it out, or work behind the scenes to delay, stall, or outright block it.

However, the question isn’t whether the generals know this is a reckless, unwinnable war. They do. The real question is: would they all resist it?

2. The Professional vs. Political Officers

The modern U.S. military is not immune to political influence. While the majority of senior military leaders are professional, strategic, and duty-bound to the Constitution, recent years have revealed a growing faction of politically motivated officers who are less concerned with military strategy and more concerned with ideological loyalty.

• Career officers with battlefield experience—those who have fought in Iraq and Afghanistan and worked alongside Canada in NATO operations—would immediately recognize this war as suicidal and work to prevent it.

• Trump-aligned political officers, such as those promoted or supported for their loyalty rather than competence, could encourage the decision rather than oppose it.

• Figures like Pete Hegseth (the “DUI Hire”), a media personality with deep influence in Trumpist circles, would likely cheer this on, pushing a narrative that America must "reclaim" Canada or "teach Trudeau a lesson." These figures, lacking strategic experience, would provide political cover for a disastrous war.

This division within military leadership would create chaos inside the Pentagon, with some generals openly resisting, resigning, or leaking information. In contrast, others execute reckless plans to curry favor with political leadership.

3. The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs Would Face a Defining Moment

The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff (CJCS) is the highest-ranking military officer in the U.S. Armed Forces. While the CJCS does not have operational command authority (meaning they do not give direct orders to troops), their influence over military planning and execution is unparalleled.

• If the Chairman is a seasoned, independent-minded officer, they would likely advise the President against the war, stall operations, or leak to Congress to trigger resistance.

• If the Chairman is a political appointee more concerned with loyalty than strategy, they could greenlight the operation, pressure lower-ranking officers to comply, and actively suppress dissent.

This decision would define the future of the U.S. military, determining whether it remains a professional force bound by law and strategy or a politicized tool of a reckless executive.

4. The Internal Revolt: Officers Would Resign, Leak, and Resist

If an invasion of Canada were ordered, expect a wave of resignations, internal sabotage, and leaks to the press and Congress from those who refuse to go along with it.

• Senior generals, admirals, and intelligence officials who recognize the suicidal nature of this war would likely leak details to allies, NATO, and the media in a desperate attempt to stop it.

• High-level resignations would send a clear message that the war is illegitimate, but that wouldn’t necessarily stop those who remain in power from proceeding.

• Junior officers and field commanders might follow the lead of their more experienced superiors, creating mass confusion in the chain of command.

A U.S. military divided against itself would be one of the greatest vulnerabilities in such a conflict. The moment the Pentagon fractures, the war is already lost.

5. The Role of Congress and Civilian Oversight

The military does not exist in a vacuum—Congress has oversight of military funding, war declarations, and the ability to impeach a reckless Commander-in-Chief.

• A bipartisan coalition in Congress would likely emerge to stop the war, knowing that such an invasion would cripple the economy, alienate U.S. allies, and likely destroy America’s global standing.

• Congressional hearings, investigations, and threats to cut off military funding could slow or halt the operation—assuming the executive branch didn’t attempt to bypass legislative authority.

• However, if the President had enough loyalists in Congress willing to rubber-stamp his actions, it could create a constitutional crisis, where the government splinters over the war's legality.

This wouldn’t just be a war against Canada—it would be a war that fractures the very foundations of American democracy.

The Pentagon Would Be at War With Itself

A U.S. invasion of Canada wouldn’t just lead to disaster on the battlefield—it would ignite a civil-military crisis within the United States itself.

• Professional military leaders would resist, resign, or attempt to block the order.

• Loyalist officers, political appointees, and ideologues would push the war forward, regardless of the consequences.

• The Pentagon would descend into chaos, with internal sabotage, leaks, and infighting tearing apart U.S. military cohesion.

• Congress and civilian leadership would face a constitutional crisis, with some factions working to stop the war while others enable it.

At best, this would end in the largest military mutiny in modern U.S. history. At worst, it would set the stage for an internal power struggle that cripples American democracy itself.

The only war the U.S. would win in this scenario is the war against its credibility. And history would remember it as the moment America destroyed itself over a delusion.

Conclusion: The only winning move is not to play

At every level—militarily, strategically, politically, and economically—the idea of the United States successfully invading and occupying Canada is an outright impossibility.

1. The U.S. lacks the manpower, logistical capacity, and political will to sustain an occupation of Canada.

2. Canada's military is highly trained, well-armed, and deeply integrated with U.S. doctrine, making them a formidable opponent.

3. The terrain and climate would make a U.S. invasion a nightmare, stretching supply lines and exposing vulnerabilities.

4. Canada’s allies—particularly NATO, the U.K., and the European Union—would turn this into a global war, ensuring the U.S. could never win.

5. The economic fallout would be catastrophic, pushing the U.S. into a deep recession or even collapse, while adversaries like China and Russia seize the opportunity to advance their own interests.

6. The entire idea threatens to cause an implosion of the greatest military ever created in the history of mankind and destabilize the entire United States Government in the process.

At the end of this thought experiment, one thing is obvious: the only war we’d win in this scenario is the war against our own credibility. A war against Canada wouldn’t just be an act of madness—it would be the moment America ceases to be a global power. The United States wouldn’t just lose a war. We’d lose everything.

The only sane course of action is maintaining Canada as an ally, not an enemy. Any leader who seriously suggests otherwise is either delusional, dangerously incompetent, or both.

If Trump wants to be remembered in history for all time, invading Canada is one way to do it. It’d be the last thing anyone remembers before the U.S. ceases to exist.

Aerial view of Bulkeley Hall, the headquarters and administration building at Guantanamo Bay Naval Base, May 6, 2010. U.S. Navy photo by Chief Mass Communication Specialist Bill Mesta/Released/US Department of Defense

President Donald Trump has declared a national emergency over immigration, launching a series of aggressive Detention and Removal Operations (DRO) across the United States.

That is, perhaps, an understatement. The reality on the ground has been one of fear, disruption, and chaos—terrified communities, businesses thrown into turmoil, food prices soaring, and even U.S. citizens mistakenly detained for looking or sounding “Hispanic.” The absurdity reached new heights when Native Americans, who have been natural-born U.S. citizens since the passage of the Snyder Act in 1924, were also swept up in these operations.

To put it bluntly: it’s been ugly.

Then, in a dramatic escalation, the administration announced that undocumented immigrants, many of whom Trump has broadly labeled as "criminals," will now be detained at Guantanamo Bay (GTMO, or "Gitmo"), Cuba. At the same time, El Salvador has agreed to accept a number of deportees classified as "violent offenders" for detention, though details on that arrangement remain unclear.

At first glance, this all sounds unquestionably illegal—the U.S. government shipping people off to a military detention facility or a foreign country for incarceration. And if not outright illegal, it certainly sounds like something out of an authoritarian playbook.

Sister, you have no idea.

President Trump signing the Executive Order to send immigrants to Guantanamo Bay, The White House, January 29, 2025

I will break down the legal and political implications of what the President has announced. We’ll examine how the law treats undocumented immigrants, what rights they do and don’t have, and whether it is lawful to detain them at GTMO or send them to El Salvador.

And, of course, we’ll look at what the Supreme Court is likely to say. Spoiler alert: you’re probably not going to like it.

While I believe this policy is reckless, inhumane, and blatantly immoral, if not illegal, violating both international treaties and the U.S. Constitution, I am also confident that the Supreme Court will rubber-stamp Trump’s actions. This administration has no hesitation in telling the international human rights community to go fornicate itself with an iron rod, and I don’t expect the Court to stand in its way.

Let’s get started.

The Legal Framework: Who Can Be Detained, and Why?

The central question is whether these migrants are criminals. There’s two reasons for this idea in my view. One - in general, the American people really don’t care what happens to criminals; two - if they’re criminals, the justification for “the ends justify the means,” are much more palpable politically. The President blanket claims everyone’s a criminal; ergo, everyone gets shipped off to prison. His team repeats that line everywhere they go. The legal reality is nuanced. That’s not the case (at least not if you’re interested in complying with the law.)

Unlawful presence in the U.S. is a civil violation, not a criminal offense. Individuals who cross illegally for the first time or who overstay their lawful visas commit a misdemeanor under 8 U.S.C. § 1325.

Reentry after deportation is a felony under 8 U.S.C. § 1326, but requires prior removal. Those convicted of actual crimes (drug offenses, violent crimes, etc.) could be deported but must still be processed through immigration courts.

Reentry after removal following an “aggravated felony” conviction under U.S.C. § 1326(b)(2) is the most serious of the felonies associated with immigration.

Thus, labeling all detainees as "criminals" is misleading. Many may have never committed a crime beyond crossing the border illegally. Some may fall into categories that label them as “criminals,” but I find it highly unlikely that we have 12 million “felons” in the United States (but we do have one in the White House.)

Difference between Misdemeanors and Felonies (for those who aren’t lawyers)

I realize that terms like “misdemeanor” and “felony” get thrown around a lot, and for those who aren’t lawyers, the distinction might not always be clear. But it matters—a lot. So let’s make sure we’re all on the same page.

If you’re reading my Substack, you probably already know that being labeled a “felon” is a very bad thing. Unfortunately, not enough voters in the last election seemed to grasp that concept. And because that distinction carries real legal and political consequences, I feel compelled to clarify exactly what separates misdemeanors from felonies—especially in the context of immigration.

The reality is that most undocumented immigrants in the U.S. are not “criminals” in the way the term is commonly understood. They have not been convicted of felonies, nor are they likely to be charged with one. Despite what the administration would have you believe, their presence here is a civil violation, not a criminal offense, and lumping them in with actual felons is both misleading and politically manipulative.

Under U.S. federal criminal law, the distinction between a misdemeanor and a felony is based primarily on the severity of the offense and the potential punishment.

Misdemeanor

• Definition: A less severe crime carries a maximum sentence of one year or less in jail or another form of detention (such as probation or fines).

• Sentencing: Typically results in county jail time, fines, community service, or probation rather than federal prison.

• Examples: Simple assault, first-time illegal entry (8 U.S.C. § 1325), petty theft, disorderly conduct, DUI (without aggravating factors).

• Trial Process: Misdemeanor cases often involve faster proceedings, and depending on the jurisdiction, defendants may not always have the right to a jury trial.

Felony

• Definition: A more serious crime that carries a potential sentence of more than one year in state or federal prison.

• Sentencing: This can range from one year to life imprisonment (or the death penalty in extreme cases). Felonies are served in state or federal prisons, not local jails. Prisons differ from jails in that they are facilities designed to hold people for extended periods of time.

• Examples: Murder, armed robbery, rape, narcotics trafficking, illegal reentry after deportation (8 U.S.C. § 1326), grand theft, wire fraud, falsification of business records (like the President was convicted of committing.)_

• Trial Process: Felonies involve lengthier legal proceedings, more procedural protections, and always include the right to a jury trial if the defendant chooses.

Legal and Practical Differences

1. Criminal Record Impact – Felony convictions have far more severe long-term consequences, including loss of voting rights, firearm possession bans, and employment restrictions.

2. Prosecutorial Discretion – Prosecutors may plea down a felony to a misdemeanor depending on the case details and cooperation of the defendant.

3. Immigration Consequences – In the immigration context, certain misdemeanors may not result in deportation, but felonies (especially aggravated felonies) almost always do.

Now that we’ve established that most undocumented migrants in the U.S. aren’t felons—and that their violation is more akin to a civil infraction, like speeding, rather than a serious crime—let’s break down how detention and removal actually work from a legal and procedural standpoint.

You have the right to remain silent …

Under normal circumstances, when a person is arrested and detained in the United States for breaking the law (regardless of the severity), they are entitled to a full range of constitutional protections. These rights stem from the Bill of Rights and ensure due process, legal representation, protection against unlawful detention, and humane treatment.

• Fourth Amendment: Protects against unreasonable searches and seizures, meaning arrests require probable cause, and law enforcement must typically obtain judicial warrants before detaining someone.

• Fifth Amendment: Ensures due process, meaning that before being deprived of life, liberty, or property, a person must be given a fair hearing before an impartial tribunal.

• Sixth Amendment: Guarantees the right to legal counsel, the right to a speedy and public trial, and the right to confront witnesses against them.

• Eighth Amendment: Prohibits cruel and unusual punishment, including excessive bail or inhumane detention conditions.

These protections form the backbone of the criminal justice system, ensuring that individuals—regardless of citizenship status—receive fair legal treatment when accused of a crime in the United States. However, immigration law operates under an entirely different legal framework, which strips away many of these rights.

Why Immigration Detention Is Different

Unlike criminal detention, immigration detention is classified as an “administrative” process, not a punitive one. The U.S. government does not classify the detention of non-citizens for immigration violations as a criminal punishment but rather as a civil enforcement mechanism to facilitate removal from the country. This classification is crucial because the constitutional safeguards that protect criminal detainees do not apply to immigration detainees.

The Supreme Court has long upheld this distinction, treating immigration enforcement as a function of national sovereignty that falls mainly within the discretion of Congress and the Executive Branch under the plenary power doctrine. This doctrine, first articulated in Chae Chan Ping v. United States (1889), establishes that immigration policy is primarily “a political matter,” meaning that courts historically defer to Congress and the President regarding regulating entry, removal, and detention of non-citizens.

The Legal Authorities That Govern Immigration Detention

The key federal statutes that authorize immigration detention include:

• 8 U.S.C. § 1226: Allows the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) to detain non-citizens pending removal proceedings. Certain categories of non-citizens—such as those with criminal convictions—are subject to mandatory detention under § 1226(c), meaning they cannot be released on bond.

• 8 U.S.C. § 1231: Governs detention after a final removal order has been issued, authorizing the detention of a non-citizen for up to 90 days for deportation. The Supreme Court’s ruling in Zadvydas v. Davis (2001) set a general six-month limit on post-removal detention unless the government can show that removal is likely in the near future.

• 8 U.S.C. § 1182(d)(5): Allows the government to parole certain non-citizens into the U.S. for humanitarian reasons, but this is entirely discretionary and does not grant them legal status.

These laws provide broad latitude to the executive branch to detain non-citizens for extended periods without the same legal protections afforded to criminal defendants.

Why Constitutional Protections That Normally Apply Do Not Apply in Immigration Detention

Because immigration detention is not considered a criminal punishment, the courts have ruled that many fundamental constitutional protections either do not apply at all or apply in a significantly limited way.

• No Fourth Amendment Protections Against Warrantless Arrests: Unlike criminal cases, where an arrest almost always requires a judicial warrant, immigration officers can detain non-citizens without a warrant and hold them solely on the basis of an administrative order issued by DHS or ICE. Courts have upheld that immigration enforcement is an executive function, meaning that the usual probable cause standards do not apply.

• Limited Fifth Amendment Due Process Protections: Non-citizens do have some due process rights, but they are far weaker than those available to U.S. citizens and lawful permanent residents. The Supreme Court has ruled that non-citizens physically present in the U.S. are entitled to some due process, but those detained at offshore locations (like Guantanamo Bay) or intercepted before entry have virtually no constitutional protections (Johnson v. Eisentrager, 1950).

• No Sixth Amendment Right to Counsel: In criminal cases, defendants must be provided an attorney if they cannot afford one. However, in immigration proceedings, there is no right to a government-provided lawyer. If a non-citizen cannot afford an attorney, they must represent themselves, even if they do not speak English or understand U.S. immigration law.

• No Eighth Amendment Protections Against Cruel and Unusual Punishment: Immigration detention is not classified as punitive, meaning that the Eighth Amendment does not apply. As a result, non-citizens can be detained for months or years in conditions that would likely be unconstitutional if they were criminal detainees.

The Supreme Court’s View on Immigration Detention and Executive Power

The Supreme Court has consistently upheld the government’s broad authority to detain non-citizens under the plenary power doctrine, often ruling that national security and immigration enforcement outweigh individual rights in these cases.

• Demore v. Kim (2003): Upheld the mandatory detention of non-citizens with certain criminal convictions under 8 U.S.C. § 1226(c), ruling that indefinite detention without bond does not violate due process.

• Zadvydas v. Davis (2001): Limited post-removal detention to six months unless removal is imminent, but did not extend this protection to those still awaiting deportation proceedings.

• Trump v. Hawaii (2018): Reaffirmed that immigration policy is a function of national sovereignty, meaning courts should defer to the executive branch on decisions related to entry and exclusion.

How This Legal Framework Enables GTMO Detention

Because immigration detention is not classified as punishment, and the Supreme Court has upheld broad executive authority over immigration enforcement, the government can detain non-citizens indefinitely under civil, non-criminal authority. This is what makes Trump’s proposed use of Guantanamo Bay (GTMO) for migrant detention legally viable:

• If GTMO is designated as an immigration processing center, detainees may not receive full due process protections because they are not technically on U.S. soil.

• Courts have historically ruled that non-citizens outside the U.S. have virtually no constitutional rights (Johnson v. Eisentrager).

• If Trump’s administration argues that GTMO detainees are simply being "held for removal" rather than punished, courts may defer to the executive’s authority to detain them indefinitely.

While individuals arrested for crimes in the U.S. enjoy a full suite of constitutional protections, immigration detainees do not because their detention is classified as an administrative process rather than a criminal one. This legal distinction—upheld for over a century—means that policies like indefinite immigration detention, offshore processing, and GTMO detention are not only possible but legally defensible under existing Supreme Court precedents.

(As an aside, I will set aside the question of Posse Comitatus for now. There are significant legal questions regarding the Department of Defense’s authority to detain individuals who were first apprehended on U.S. soil and then transferred to Guantanamo Bay. This issue is complex and multifaceted, and a deep dive into it would turn this article into a four-hour read.

To summarize, the administration will likely justify DoD’s involvement by invoking emergency declarations, past migration precedents (such as the Haitian and Cuban crises), and national security emergency provisions under Title 10, Title 50, and other statutes. However, these arguments misstate key legal principles—particularly when applied to migrants who were already within U.S. jurisdiction before being moved offshore. While I find these justifications legally unconvincing, I fully expect the Supreme Court to uphold them, allowing DoD to participate in Detention and Removal Operations (DRO) even when detainees were initially inside the United States.

Why do I believe that? That’s a complicated question for another article.)

Legal Framework for Detaining Migrants in El Salvador Under U.S. Agreements

Detainees at the Cecot mega-prison in Tecoluca, El Salvador, on February 24, 2023. Office of the President of El Salvador/Getty Images

With the announcement that El Salvador is willing to take “criminal deportees,” (whatever that might mean), and with the details sketchy at best, I must admit this section is, at least in some part, conjecture. Not in terms of what I’ve written, that part is solid enough, but I must admit I’m not entirely sure what the Administration is actually contemplating. For the moment, what I’m presuming is the case is that instead of sending deportees to a DHS facility inside the US, it will instead send them to El Salvador.

The United States' plan to send deportees to El Salvador for detention raises complex legal, diplomatic, and human rights questions. Unlike U.S. immigration detention, which operates under a civil, non-criminal enforcement framework, detention in a foreign country like El Salvador is subject to Salvadoran domestic law and international treaties.

How the U.S. Can Legally Transfer Migrants to El Salvador

The U.S. has previously used bilateral agreements to transfer immigration enforcement responsibilities to foreign nations. The most well-known precedent is the Migrant Protection Protocols (MPP) or "Remain in Mexico" program, in which asylum seekers were forced to wait in Mexico while their cases were adjudicated in U.S. immigration courts. The United Kingdom’s deal with Rwanda, in which asylum seekers are sent to Rwanda for processing, is another modern example of outsourcing detention to a third country.

Under international law, the U.S. can negotiate a bilateral agreement with El Salvador that allows it to deport non-citizens to Salvadoran custody rather than detaining them in U.S. facilities. The specific legal authority for this transfer would likely be grounded in:

• 8 U.S.C. § 1231 – The U.S. government’s authority to remove non-citizens after a final order of deportation.

• Diplomatic Agreements/Treaties – The U.S. would need to negotiate with El Salvador under a framework similar to past safe third-country agreements (e.g., the U.S.-Guatemala 2019 agreement).

• Presidential Authority – The executive branch has broad discretion to decide where deportees are sent and whether another country qualifies as a “safe” location for detainees.

So, the “simple” answer to the question of “can the US legally do this,” is a “yes, the US can legally transfer deportees to other countries.” There are some nuances to it all, and as you’ll see in another section, some significant complications perhaps, but it is legal, unlike many other things this Administration has attempted.

That all said, this will undoubtedly get messy. I’m not sure the Trump Administration cares all that much.

Legal Authority of El Salvador to Detain U.S. Deportees

Once non-citizens arrive in El Salvador, they fall under Salvadoran jurisdiction. The legal basis for detaining them would be governed by El Salvador’s domestic laws, which generally include:

• Salvadoran Immigration Law – The country has the power to hold foreign nationals who lack legal status within its territory.

• Criminal Law for Violent Offenders – If the U.S. is specifically deporting individuals classified as "violent offenders," they may be detained under Salvadoran penal codes related to public safety threats.

• Bilateral Agreement Conditions – The Salvadoran government would likely establish a legal framework specific to U.S. deportees, similar to how Guatemala temporarily agreed to accept asylum seekers under Trump’s Safe Third Country Agreement.

Potential Human Rights and Legal Challenges

Although legal in principle, detaining U.S. deportees in El Salvador raises serious concerns about human rights protections, due process, and treatment conditions.

• Risk of Arbitrary Detention – El Salvador could be accused of violating international human rights norms if the agreement does not include clear legal procedures for detainees. That said, let’s face it: when you think of “Human Rights,” El Salvador isn’t precisely the word that springs right off the tongue. Now, is it?

• Non-Refoulement Violations – Under the Convention Against Torture (CAT) and the 1951 Refugee Convention, the U.S. and El Salvador cannot deport individuals to countries where they face persecution or torture. If Salvadoran authorities fail to screen individuals properly, the policy could face legal challenges in international courts.

• Lack of Due Process – Unlike in the U.S., where detainees can appeal deportation, those sent to El Salvador may have no access to meaningful legal recourse to contest their detention.

• Inhumane Conditions – El Salvador’s prison and detention conditions have been widely criticized for overcrowding, lack of medical care, and poor human rights oversight. If U.S. deportees are subjected to these conditions, the policy could face scrutiny from organizations like the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights (IACHR).

Legal Precedent and Supreme Court Challenges

While the U.S. has the authority to deport individuals to foreign detention centers, the Supreme Court has never ruled directly on the legality of outsourcing detention to a third country. The closest relevant cases include:

• Zadvydas v. Davis (2001) – Limited indefinite detention in the U.S. but did not address deportation to third countries.

• Trump v. Hawaii (2018) – Affirmed the President’s broad authority over immigration, suggesting courts might defer to the executive on deportation destinations.

• Sale v. Haitian Centers Council (1993) – Ruled that the U.S. can intercept and return migrants without granting them full asylum protections, which could be used as a basis for offshore detention policies.

In the final section, I’ll discuss this wicket and all of the problems because, ultimately, all of these questions will wind up before the Supreme Court. But before we get to that question, there’s one last element I’d want to discuss: the political challenges associated with using Gitmo and El Salvador.

Legal, but a Political Nuclear Explosion

The decision to use Guantanamo Bay and El Salvador as detention sites for immigration enforcement presents significant political, diplomatic, and logistical challenges. While the legal framework largely supports the executive’s authority to implement these measures, the domestic and international political ramifications could be severe.

Domestic Political Challenges

1. Public Perception and Political Polarization

The optics of detaining migrants at GTMO—a site historically associated with wartime detainees, terrorism suspects, and indefinite detention without trial—will almost certainly provoke a backlash. Even for Americans who support strict immigration enforcement, the idea of using a military-run offshore facility carries historical baggage that could be politically damaging.

• Democratic Opposition: Democrats and immigration advocacy groups will frame this policy as a return to Bush-era extrajudicial detention practices, emphasizing due process concerns and human rights violations. Expect loud opposition from Congressional Democrats, the ACLU, and international human rights organizations.

• Republican Divide: While Trump’s hardline base may embrace the GTMO plan as an aggressive crackdown on illegal immigration, more traditional establishment Republicans—especially those in Latino-heavy districts or with foreign policy concerns—may worry about the diplomatic fallout and logistical failures.

• Media Narrative: The mainstream media will likely compare GTMO migrant detention to the worst elements of post-9/11 policies, tying it to past abuses, indefinite detention, and legal black holes.

2. Congressional Oversight and Funding Battles

While the executive branch has wide authority over immigration enforcement, the actual implementation of detaining migrants at GTMO or transferring detainees to El Salvador requires funding and logistical support, much of which falls under Congressional control.

• Budgetary Challenges: While DHS and DoD have discretionary funds, large-scale detention at GTMO requires Congressional appropriations, which Democrats will fiercely oppose.

• Oversight Hearings: Expect House and Senate hearings investigating conditions, costs, and legality, especially if reports emerge of poor treatment, indefinite detention, or diplomatic conflicts.

• Potential Legal Challenges: Congressional Democrats or advocacy groups may push for federal lawsuits to halt the program, though the Supreme Court is likely to side with the executive branch.

3. Logistical and Administrative Problems

• Processing & Infrastructure Limitations: GTMO was never designed to handle large-scale immigration detention. Current infrastructure is built for military and intelligence operations, not for civil detention of families, asylum seekers, and low-level immigration violators.

• Legal Access Issues: Immigration detainees are entitled to some due process. This means the administration must facilitate legal counsel and hearings, which is far more difficult offshore than in a standard immigration facility.

• Personnel Concerns: GTMO operations require highly trained personnel, including military and intelligence officers, who are not trained to handle mass civil immigration cases. This could lead to administrative failures, confusion, and poor treatment of detainees.

International Political Challenges

1. Diplomatic Fallout with Latin America

The U.S. relying on El Salvador as a detention site for deportees could create serious diplomatic tensions. Historically, Latin American countries resent U.S. interventionist policies, and outsourcing immigration detention to El Salvador could be viewed as an attempt to offload America’s immigration burden onto poorer nations.

• El Salvador’s Sovereignty Concerns: The Salvadoran government may face domestic political backlash for agreeing to detain U.S. deportees, with critics arguing that the country is being paid to do America’s dirty work.

• Mexico’s Reaction: Mexico will likely view the plan as a continuation of the Trump-era strategy of externalizing immigration enforcement, potentially straining U.S.-Mexico relations.

• Regional Instability: Many deportees to El Salvador will have criminal backgrounds or be affiliated with gangs like MS-13, raising security concerns about potential violence and instability within Salvadoran borders.

2. United Nations and Human Rights Scrutiny

The UN Human Rights Council (UNHRC), the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights (IACHR), and Amnesty International will strongly condemn both the GTMO migrant detention plan and the El Salvador deportation agreement. The key criticisms will be:

• Violation of Non-Refoulement Protections: International law prohibits returning migrants to countries where they face torture, persecution, or inhumane conditions. If El Salvador fails to properly vet deportees, the U.S. could be accused of violating the Convention Against Torture (CAT) and 1951 Refugee Convention.

• Arbitrary Detention & Lack of Due Process: Human rights organizations will argue that migrants at GTMO are being detained indefinitely without proper legal protections, calling it a violation of the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR).

• Potential Legal Challenges in International Courts: While the U.S. is not subject to direct UN legal enforcement, advocacy groups may push cases in international human rights courts to challenge GTMO and El Salvador detention as human rights abuses.

3. European & Allied Government Backlash

• European Union: The EU, particularly countries like Germany, France, and Spain, will condemn the policy and potentially push for diplomatic consequences. Given past EU criticism of U.S. immigration detention practices, this will likely create further strain on transatlantic relations.

• Canada & Other Allies: Canada has long supported strong refugee protections, and the GTMO plan could become a sticking point in U.S.-Canada relations. Other allies, including Australia and the UK, may also face domestic pressure to condemn U.S. immigration practices.

(Another quick aside—the President pulling the U.S. out of the UN Human Rights Council (UNHRC) didn’t exactly help our case here. It’s hardly a coincidence that after ditching the HRC, the administration is now shipping detainees to GTMO and outsourcing detention to El Salvador.

At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if, at the next UN General Assembly, Trump took the podium, looked out at the assembled world leaders, and declared, “I don’t give a flying f*ck what any of you people think!” before storming off the stage.)

Potential Fallout Scenarios

1. Mass Protests & Political Mobilization

• Expect mass protests in major U.S. cities, with advocacy groups organizing large demonstrations against GTMO migrant detention.

• International human rights organizations will push for economic and diplomatic sanctions against the U.S.

• Sanctuary states like California and New York may refuse cooperation, challenging federal immigration enforcement through lawsuits and local policies.

2. Detainee Protests & Hunger Strikes

• GTMO detainees could launch hunger strikes, drawing negative media attention and comparisons to past controversies over detainee treatment.

• El Salvadoran detention conditions may deteriorate, leading to increased crime, prison riots, or cartel violence linked to deported migrants.

3. Long-Term Legal & Political Consequences

• The GTMO and El Salvador plans could become major campaign issues in future elections, with opponents citing human rights violations.

• Due to sustained political pressure, future administrations may be forced to (and undoubtedly will want to) shut down the program.

• If abuses occur, they could lead to future congressional investigations into the treatment of detainees, especially if the partisan balance flips. If the abuses are genuinely severe, they could lead to a third impeachment.

While the legal framework allows GTMO migrant detention and offshore deportations to El Salvador, the political challenges are immense. Domestically, the policy will be controversial, logistically challenging, and face intense scrutiny from Congress and the media. Internationally, it risks damaging relations with Latin America, provoking UN human rights condemnations, and straining alliances with key partners. Thus far, this Administration has shown little finesse and capability to manage routine casual world affairs, let alone what would become (most likely) the most galvanizing international issue since the last time the United States conducted large-scale detention operations at Guantanamo.

This brings us, of course, now to the most fierce battleground, the Courts.

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The Supreme Court Will Likely Uphold

Given everything we’ve discussed, several key legal questions are likely to reach the Supreme Court regarding the detention of migrants at Guantanamo Bay (GTMO) and the transfer of deportees to El Salvador. These cases will center on executive authority, constitutional rights of non-citizens, international law obligations, and due process challenges.

I believe that this policy choice is inconsistent with American values, inconsistent with the spirit of our Constitutional protections, inconsistent with the spirit of our immigration law, and inconsistent with our obligations under international law, specifically the ICCPR and the CAT. That said, it is also my belief that, for the most part, the Supreme Court will uphold all of these actions, nearly unchecked, on virtually a partisan basis. Unfortunately, there are “colorable” arguments and case law (stare decisis) to provide ample justification for executing these policies. Let’s examine the questions likely to come before the Court in what I imagine will be a myriad of lawsuits.

1. Can the U.S. Government Detain Migrants at GTMO Indefinitely Without Granting Full Due Process Rights?

Legal Question:

Does detaining non-citizens at Guantanamo Bay circumvent the constitutional protections that would otherwise apply if they were held within U.S. territory?

Legal Analysis:

• Johnson v. Eisentrager (1950): The Supreme Court ruled that non-citizens detained outside of U.S. territory do not have constitutional rights, including habeas corpus protections. The government will argue that GTMO remains outside the jurisdiction of U.S. courts, meaning detainees do not have full due process rights.

• Rasul v. Bush (2004): The Court held that GTMO detainees can file habeas petitions because the U.S. exercises de facto sovereignty over GTMO, complicating the government’s position. However, this case applied specifically to wartime enemy combatants, not civil immigration detainees.

• Boumediene v. Bush (2008): Expanded habeas rights to detainees at GTMO, stating that the Constitution’s protections extend to non-citizens held there under certain conditions. However, the Court did not rule that all constitutional protections apply, leaving room for the government to argue that immigration detainees are distinct from enemy combatants.

Likely Supreme Court Ruling:

The 6-3 conservative majority will likely rule that immigration detainees at GTMO are not entitled to full constitutional protections, relying on Eisentrager and distinguishing Boumediene as applicable only to wartime combatants. However, Roberts and Gorsuch might insist on some minimal procedural safeguards, requiring some level of review.

2. Does Sending Detainees to El Salvador Violate the Non-Refoulement Principle Under U.S. and International Law?

Legal Question:

Does deporting migrants to El Salvador, where they may face danger or human rights violations, violate international treaty obligations such as the Convention Against Torture (CAT) and U.S. asylum law?

Legal Analysis:

• INS v. Cardoza-Fonseca (1987): Affirmed that U.S. law must adhere to international asylum obligations, including protection from deportation to countries where individuals may face persecution.

• Zadvydas v. Davis (2001): Ruled that indefinite detention is unconstitutional if deportation is not feasible, but did not specifically address deportation to third-party countries.

• Trump v. Hawaii (2018): Reaffirmed the President’s broad authority over immigration matters, suggesting that courts will be hesitant to interfere with deportation policies unless there is a clear statutory violation.

Likely Supreme Court Ruling:

The Court will likely defer to executive discretion and rule that the government has the authority to deport migrants to El Salvador unless the plaintiffs can prove immediate and specific harm upon return. The conservative justices (Thomas, Alito, Kavanaugh, Barrett) will argue that treaty obligations do not override executive discretion. In contrast, Sotomayor, Kagan, and Jackson will argue that the deportation agreement violates non-refoulement principles.

3. Do Immigration Detainees at GTMO Have a Right to Habeas Corpus or Access to U.S. Courts?

Legal Question:

Can non-citizen immigration detainees at GTMO challenge their detention through U.S. courts, or does the government have unchecked authority to hold them indefinitely?

Legal Analysis:

• Rasul v. Bush (2004): Established that GTMO detainees have the right to file habeas petitions in U.S. courts. However, this ruling applied to enemy combatants, not civil immigration detainees.

• Demore v. Kim (2003): Upheld the government’s authority to detain immigrants without bond hearings, reinforcing broad executive discretion.

• Jennings v. Rodriguez (2018): Held that immigration detainees do not have an automatic right to periodic bond hearings, suggesting that the Court may uphold prolonged detention for GTMO detainees as well.

Likely Supreme Court Ruling:

The Court will likely narrowly uphold the right of detainees to file habeas petitions but in a minimal scope. The conservative majority will likely rule that GTMO detainees have limited avenues for judicial review, effectively allowing indefinite detention under immigration enforcement powers.

How the Justices Are Likely to Rule on These Issues

Predicting how the Justices will decide hypothetical cases and questions is always speculation. That said, I’m going to “just that.” I’ve studied what these Justices have said in their confirmations and statements. I’ve studied what they’ve written in the past. I’ve presumed they won’t suddenly change their minds. I’ve also presumed that they won’t just radically depart from existing cases if those cases “get them where they want to go.” In other words, I’m not expecting a “Dobbs” moment where suddenly they just make it up out of the blue (which is how I interpret what happened in Dobbs.) There is a fair amount of case law to draw on, and given the proclivities of the “conservative” members to draw on originalism, textualism, etc., I feel we can make some “predictions” about how they might analyze the questions.

Chief Justice John Roberts (Swing Conservative)

• Will likely vote to uphold executive authority over immigration detention but may require some procedural safeguards, as he did in Boumediene v. Bush (2008).

• Will likely side with conservatives on deportation to El Salvador, citing Trump v. Hawaii.

Clarence Thomas (Hardline Conservative)

• Will unconditionally uphold the government’s authority, arguing that non-citizens outside U.S. soil have no constitutional rights (Eisentrager).

• Will reject any due process claims, siding with executive power 100%.

Samuel Alito (Conservative, Strong National Security Leanings)

• Will rule against any expansion of rights for GTMO detainees, relying on Trump v. Hawaii and Demore v. Kim.

• Will likely dismiss non-refoulement arguments, arguing that treaties do not override statutory law.

Neil Gorsuch (Libertarian at times, Skeptical of Indefinite Detention)

• May support some limited procedural protections for detainees at GTMO.

• Will likely join conservatives on deportation to El Salvador, deferring to plenary power doctrine.

Brett Kavanaugh (Broad Deference to Executive Authority)

• Will side with the government on all issues, emphasizing Trump v. Hawaii.

• Will likely argue that national security concerns justify expanded detention policies.

Amy Coney Barrett (Strict Textualist)

• Will rule against granting constitutional protections to non-citizens at GTMO, relying on Eisentrager and Demore.

• Will likely uphold deportation to El Salvador, arguing that immigration law gives the executive full discretion.

Sonia Sotomayor, Elena Kagan, Ketanji Brown Jackson (Liberal Wing)

• Will dissent in every case, arguing that immigration detainees deserve due process and habeas rights.

• Will oppose deportations to El Salvador on human rights and non-refoulement grounds.

Final Prediction

So, what’s the “box score” then?

• GTMO Immigration Detention Will Be Upheld (6-3 Decision)

• Deportations to El Salvador Will Be Upheld (6-3 Decision)

• Limited Habeas Rights for GTMO Detainees Will Be Allowed, But Heavily Restricted (5-4 Decision, with Roberts/Gorsuch possibly carving out narrow review rights)

The current Supreme Court composition heavily favors executive authority in immigration matters, meaning these policies are likely to be upheld with minimal judicial interference.

Conclusion: The Supreme Court Will Greenlight the Madness—And There’s No One to Stop It

After a thorough analysis of the legal, political, and constitutional landscape, the most sobering conclusion is this: the Supreme Court will almost certainly uphold every major aspect of Trump’s GTMO and El Salvador immigration detention policy. Whether it is morally indefensible, practically unworkable, or diplomatically catastrophic is irrelevant to the legal calculus this Court will apply.

Every major legal argument against these policies—due process concerns, non-refoulement treaty violations, the inhumane treatment of detainees, and the dangers of indefinite detention—will be brushed aside in favor of the President’s broad authority over immigration and national security.

If we’ve learned anything from Trump v. Hawaii (2018), Demore v. Kim (2003), and Boumediene v. Bush (2008), it’s that the Supreme Court is more than willing to defer to the Executive Branch on immigration and detention matters. That deferential posture will define how these cases are decided.

There is a slim chance that Chief Justice Roberts and Justice Gorsuch could carve out a procedural safeguard here or there, but ultimately, the conservative supermajority will rule that the President has the power to detain non-citizens offshore, limit their legal rights, and remove them to a third country, regardless of human rights concerns.

This means that thousands of migrants could be detained indefinitely at Guantanamo Bay with virtually no recourse, and thousands more could be sent to El Salvador, where their fate is out of American hands.

This is a troubling moment for those who value the Constitution’s promise of due process, the integrity of human rights, and the rule of law. But if the last few years have taught us anything, it’s that the Supreme Court is no longer a neutral arbiter of constitutional principles—it is a political body, and in this case, the politics favor Trump’s authoritarian immigration crackdown.

In the end, this is not a legal fight that will be won in the courts. If this policy is to be stopped, it must be through political pressure, international backlash, and sheer logistical incompetence. Because legally, the path is clear: the Supreme Court is prepared to rubber-stamp this madness, and there’s no one left to stop them.

I cannot fathom that I would ever have to write this post today.

For those who have been hiding under a rock, the President announced, without provocation, trade tariffs against Canada. In response, the Canadian government had no choice but to announce retaliatory tariffs. Last night, the Prime Minister of Canada, Justin Trudeau, addressed his Nation, and attempted to speak directly to the American People:

For over two centuries, the United States and Canada have shared one of the most stable and cooperative relationships in the world. Bound by geography, culture, and economic interdependence, the two nations have built a partnership rooted in mutual respect and shared democratic values.

The United States has no better ally than Canada. None. Since Canada was self-governed in 1867, and the United States was an independent nation in 1776, these two nations have been allied. Canadians have fought, and died, in every conflict the United States has faced. They have been our steadfast partner in war and in peace.

The world's longest undefended border is more than just a symbol; it reflects a deep trust forged through history. The U.S. and Canada have continuously strengthened their ties, from fighting side by side in global conflicts to collaborating on trade, security, and environmental initiatives. Their economic relationship is one of the most extensive on the planet, with over $2 billion in goods and services crossing the border daily. Agreements like NAFTA—now the USMCA—have further integrated their markets, ensuring prosperity on both sides.

Beyond commerce, the nations have a robust security alliance through NATO and NORAD, working together to safeguard North America. Their cooperation extends into intelligence sharing, counterterrorism, and even disaster response, demonstrating a level of partnership rare among sovereign nations.

Culturally, the U.S. and Canada influence each other profoundly, whether in entertainment, sports, or social trends. Canadians and Americans live, work, and travel across the border with ease, reinforcing the personal and familial ties that make this relationship unique.

This enduring alliance, built on shared interests and common values, remains a cornerstone of North American stability and prosperity.

The President’s actions severely damaged this relationship with Canada. It is the most shameful, embarrassing action we have ever undertaken towards an ally. It is tantamount to an attack on an ally.

America now finds itself in a trade war.

I’m going to build a wall, and Mexico ain’t going to pay for it.

Just like all the other nonsense the President spouts out, Canada, Mexico, and Timbuktu, aren’t going to pay for anything.

The President has long praised tariffs as an effective economic policy. The President has called “tariff” the fourth-most beautiful word in the dictionary, behind “God,” “love” and “religion.”

And the President has repeatedly (and incorrectly) said that “the tariff sheriff,” former President William McKinley, ushered in an era of American prosperity at the end of the 19th century by going all-in on tariffs (though the US economy was growing strong in the 1890s, that was largely on the back of practically unrestricted immigration, among other factors.)

Still, President Trump has used and promised to employ tariffs for three primary purposes: to raise revenue, to bring trade into balance and to bring rival countries to the negotiating table. Here’s how the President thinks tariffs work.

Here’s the problem: This plan is idiotic.

Three obvious reasons:

• Countries don’t pay tariffs.

• Companies and consumers do—meaning they have less money to spend elsewhere.

• Companies don’t just up and move their factories to the U.S. because that’s not how a globalized economy works.

The President believes in an economic system that simply does not exist.

Listening to him talk about trade, it’s like he thinks it’s still 1950. And I mean that sincerely.

I have to conclude that:

• He has no real understanding of how global trade works.

• He has no concept of how globalized labor works.

• He has no grasp of how global supply chains function.

At best, as a “real estate developer,” he never needed to understand these things. At worst, he’s willfully ignorant because much of his financial success has been built on manipulation and fraud.

Whatever story you want to tell yourself, the reality remains: Tariffs aren’t an effective way to raise national revenue. And anyone who says otherwise either doesn’t know what they’re talking about—or doesn’t care.

The Broad Cost of "America First" Tariffs

During the 2024 campaign, President Trump and Vice President Vance stood before cheering crowds and made a simple promise: tariffs would "bring American jobs back", "level the playing field", and "force foreign nations to respect America again."

They assured workers in Michigan and Ohio that tariffs on Canadian imports would "end the era of American manufacturing being sold out." Trump, in a rally in Wisconsin, declared:

"We’re done getting ripped off by Canada. We’re done with unfair trade. When I put tariffs on their goods, guess what? They’re gonna come back to us. The factories are gonna come back. The jobs are gonna come back. And it’s going to be beautiful."

That was the promise.

Now, let’s talk about the reality.

Who Pays? You Do.

Tariffs are taxes on imported goods, and those taxes are paid by American importers, American businesses, and ultimately, American consumers.

The price of Canadian lumber goes up? That cost gets passed along to U.S. homebuilders, which means higher housing prices. Tariffs on Canadian auto parts? That means more expensive cars, higher costs for manufacturers, and fewer jobs in U.S. auto plants. Tariffs on Canadian food products? That’s more expensive groceries for American families.

This isn’t speculation—it’s exactly what happened during Trump’s first round of tariffs. Between 2018 and 2019, his tariffs on steel and aluminum raised manufacturing costs, leading to job losses in the auto sector, despite his claims that it would create a "manufacturing boom."

Now, he and Vance are doubling down on the same failed policy, only this time, the stakes are even higher.

Killing American Jobs, One Tariff at a Time

Trump promised that tariffs would "bring American jobs back." But tariffs don’t operate in a vacuum. The U.S. and Canada have one of the most deeply integrated economic relationships in the world. Disrupting that supply chain doesn’t bring jobs back—it destroys them.

Consider the auto industry. U.S. and Canadian factories don’t just sell finished cars to each other—they share parts and components, often shipping them across the border multiple times during production. A car built in Detroit today likely contains steel made in Ontario, engines assembled in Windsor, and electronic components from Quebec.

Trump’s tariffs don’t "protect" these jobs; they increase production costs, making American cars more expensive and less competitive. U.S. automakers have two choices:

1. Eat the higher costs and lose profitability.

2. Pass those costs to consumers, which means fewer sales and, ultimately, job cuts.

Trump and Vance insist that "companies will just build their factories here instead." That’s fantasy. Manufacturing doesn’t move overnight, and when companies do relocate, they don’t necessarily pick the U.S.—they go where it’s cheapest. If Trump makes it too expensive to do business with Canada, automakers won’t suddenly start building factories in Michigan; they’ll move operations to Mexico, China, or Southeast Asia instead.

Farmers Betrayed Again

On the campaign trail, Trump and Vance told America’s farmers they’d be "protected like never before." They pointed to Trump’s past trade war with China and insisted that he had "won" by standing up to unfair practices.

But American farmers know better. The last time Trump imposed tariffs, retaliatory tariffs hit American agriculture hard. China, Canada, and the EU all responded by slapping tariffs on U.S. farm exports, devastating soybean, pork, and dairy farmers. The federal government had to spend billions in emergency bailouts just to keep family farms afloat.

Now, Trump is picking another fight with Canada, and farmers will suffer the consequences. Canada is one of the largest buyers of American agricultural products—and they won’t hesitate to retaliate. When Trump imposes tariffs on Canadian dairy or beef, Canada will respond by slapping tariffs on American soybeans, corn, and poultry. And just like before, American farmers will pay the price.

Meanwhile, Trump will go to another rally and promise that he’s "saving American agriculture," all while standing on the wreckage of another self-inflicted economic disaster.

America’s Inflation Bomb

Trump and Vance have spent months hammering inflation as a key campaign issue, claiming that they will "bring prices down" and "save Americans money." But tariffs do the exact opposite.

When you tax imports, everything from groceries to home goods to appliances becomes more expensive. Companies have to either absorb the costs or pass them along to customers. The result? Higher prices, less spending power, and a weaker economy.

The irony is staggering: Trump and Vance campaign on fighting inflation while pushing a tariff policy that directly causes inflation.

The Trump-Vance Trade Fantasy vs. Reality

The Bottom Line

Trump and Vance are selling a vision of America that doesn’t exist—one where tariffs are a magic tool to force other countries into submission while creating jobs and lowering prices.

The reality is that tariffs on Canada will hurt American businesses, kill American jobs, increase inflation, and provoke retaliatory trade wars that will hammer U.S. farmers and manufacturers.

Trump and Vance can keep making promises. But the American economy runs on reality, not campaign slogans. And in reality, tariffs on Canada are an economic disaster waiting to happen.

How Trump’s Tariffs Will Raise Gas and Heating Prices for Americans

Further, while the administration claims these tariffs will “protect American workers,” they will actually drive up fuel prices, disrupt supply chains, and force Americans to pay more for basic energy needs.

The U.S. and Canada: A Deeply Connected Energy Economy

What Trump and Vance don’t seem to understand—or simply refuse to acknowledge—is that Canada is America’s largest energy trading partner. The U.S. imports more oil from Canada than from any other country, and this crude oil is vital to our energy infrastructure.

• Canada supplies nearly 60% of all U.S. crude oil imports.

• Many U.S. refineries—especially in the Midwest—depend on Canadian oil to function.

• Natural gas and electricity also flow across the border, helping power American homes and businesses.

Slapping tariffs on Canadian energy products doesn’t punish Canada—it disrupts U.S. refineries, raises costs for American energy producers, and forces higher prices on consumers.

How Tariffs Will Increase Gas Prices

The Trump-Vance campaign promised to lower costs for working Americans, but their tariffs on Canadian energy will do the exact opposite by making gas more expensive. Here’s how:

1. Tariffs on Canadian crude oil raise costs for U.S. refineries.

   • U.S. refineries rely on Canadian crude to blend with domestic oil for gasoline production.

   • A tariff means refineries must pay more for the same raw material.

   • Those costs get passed on to you at the pump.

2. Refinery Disruptions Could Lead to Shortages.

   • Many U.S. refineries, particularly in the Midwest and Gulf Coast, are optimized to process Canadian heavy crude.

   • If costs go up or supply chains get disrupted, refineries slow down production, leading to higher prices and possible fuel shortages.

3. Canada Retaliates by Redirecting Its Oil Exports Elsewhere.

   • If tariffs make selling oil to the U.S. more expensive, Canada will simply sell more to China, India, and Europe.

   • That means less supply for the U.S., tightening the market and pushing gas prices even higher.

Trump loves to claim that he’ll "bring down gas prices," but his tariff plan will add costs at every stage of the energy supply chain, forcing millions of Americans to pay more to fill their tanks.

How Tariffs Will Make Heating More Expensive in the North

While many Americans think of energy in terms of gasoline, millions in northern states depend on heating oil, natural gas, and electricity imports from Canada to survive the winter.

1. Tariffs on Canadian Natural Gas Will Increase Heating Costs.

   • The Northeast imports a significant amount of natural gas from Canada, especially during the winter when demand spikes.

   • A tariff means utilities have to pay more for gas, and those costs will hit households in the form of higher heating bills.

2. Tariffs on Canadian Electricity Will Raise Prices for Homes and Businesses.

   • Many northern states—New York, Vermont, Maine, and Michigan—import hydroelectric power from Canada to keep costs down.

   • A tariff on imported electricity will force utilities to raise prices on consumers.

   • If utilities turn to domestic fossil fuels instead, that drives up emissions and costs even more.

3. Retaliation from Canada Could Cut Off Supply.

   • Canada doesn’t have to sell its energy to the U.S.—it can simply redirect electricity exports to domestic use or sell oil and gas elsewhere.

   • That means even tighter energy markets and higher prices for American households.

For people living in Minnesota, Wisconsin, North Dakota, Maine, and other cold-weather states, this isn’t just an economic issue—it’s a quality of life issue. Families will be forced to pay significantly more just to keep their homes warm in the winter, all because of Trump’s reckless trade war.

Trump-Vance Promises vs. Reality

The Bottom Line: Higher Prices, More Pain for Americans

Trump and Vance claim to be fighting for the American worker, but their tariffs on Canadian energy will do the exact opposite:

• Raising gas prices at the pump.

• Driving up heating bills for millions of Americans.

• Hurting U.S. refineries and energy companies.

• Forcing Canada to sell its resources elsewhere, reducing U.S. energy security.

This is a self-inflicted economic wound that American families will be forced to pay for—all so Trump and Vance can stand on a debate stage and pretend they’re “tough on trade.”

Tariffs on Canadian energy will not strengthen America. They will make everyday life more expensive for millions of Americans, proving once again that Trump’s trade policies are more about political theater than economic reality.

How Trump’s Trade War Will Drive Up Labor Costs and Hurt American Workers

President Trump and Vice President Vance campaigned on a promise to "bring back American jobs," claiming that tariffs would protect industries and force companies to hire more U.S. workers. However, the reality is precisely the opposite: their tariffs on Canada will drive up labor costs across the entire economy, making it harder for businesses to hire and forcing American workers to pay the price.

How Tariffs Increase Labor Costs Across the Board

Tariffs don’t just tax goods—they tax the entire economy. When the cost of raw materials, energy, and transportation goes up, businesses are forced to adjust. That means:

• Rising wages in some sectors due to inflationary pressures.

• Job losses or hiring freezes in industries hit hardest by cost increases.

• Reduced business investment, leading to fewer opportunities for workers.

This isn’t just speculation—it’s exactly what happened the last time Trump imposed tariffs. During his first term, businesses saw rising labor costs due to supply chain disruptions, and instead of expanding, many cut jobs or raised prices to compensate. Now, with even more aggressive tariffs on Canadian imports, the economic strain will be even worse.

1. Manufacturing: Higher Costs, Fewer Jobs

One of the most significant selling points of Trump and Vance’s trade policies is that tariffs will "bring back manufacturing." However, manufacturing depends on affordable materials and energy, and tariffs drive up those costs, making it more expensive to employ workers.

• Tariffs on Canadian steel and aluminum mean U.S. manufacturers pay more for raw materials.

• Higher material costs force factories to cut jobs, freeze hiring, or outsource labor elsewhere.

• The auto industry—which relies on Canadian parts and supply chains—will face major slowdowns, leading to layoffs in Michigan, Ohio, and other industrial states.

Despite the campaign rhetoric, tariffs don’t bring back factories—they make it more expensive to operate them.

2. Construction: Higher Wages = Fewer Projects

Tariffs on Canadian lumber, steel, and other building materials will skyrocket construction costs, forcing companies to scale back projects, reduce hiring, or raise prices on homes and infrastructure.

• Residential construction will slow down because homebuilders will struggle to afford materials.

• Public works projects (roads, bridges, and infrastructure) will stall as local governments face budget constraints.

• Workers in skilled trades (electricians, plumbers, carpenters) will see fewer opportunities as construction firms reduce hiring.

The Trump-Vance campaign promised a "blue-collar boom," but these policies will slow down hiring in one of the most labor-intensive industries in the country.

3. Trucking and Logistics: A Fuel Price Nightmare

The trucking industry already faces a labor shortage, and now, with fuel prices set to rise due to tariffs on Canadian oil, it will be even harder to attract and retain drivers.

• Diesel costs will increase, meaning trucking companies will have to pay more just to keep their fleets running.

• Shipping rates will rise, increasing the cost of goods across the country.

• Owner-operators and small trucking firms will struggle to stay afloat, leading to more consolidation and job losses.

Instead of helping the industry, Trump’s tariffs will make it more expensive to transport goods, driving inflation and reducing hiring.

4. Retail, Restaurants, and Small Businesses: The Hiring Freeze

Tariffs create inflationary pressure across the economy, requiring businesses to pay more for goods, rent, and labor. This results in fewer job opportunities.

• Big retailers (Walmart, Target, grocery chains) will see higher supply chain costs, leading to higher prices and fewer hours for workers.

• Small businesses that rely on imported goods will face rising costs, forcing them to either raise prices or cut staff.

• Restaurants will struggle with increased food costs, meaning fewer new hires and tighter margins.

The net effect? A slower job market, fewer raises, and fewer opportunities for workers across the board.

Trump-Vance Promises vs. Reality: Labor Costs and the American Worker

The Bottom Line: The American Worker Gets Squeezed

Instead of protecting American jobs, Trump’s tariffs will:

• Make it more expensive for businesses to hire workers.

• Drive up inflation, reducing real wages for millions of Americans.

• Slow down manufacturing, construction, and trucking—three industries they promised to help.

• Lead to higher unemployment and job stagnation.

Trump and Vance love to talk about bringing back jobs, but their economic policies are designed for a world that doesn’t exist anymore. In the real world, tariffs don’t protect workers—they make their lives harder.

For the average American, that means higher prices, fewer job opportunities, and an economy that works against them, not for them.

Betraying Our Best Friend

For more than a century, Canada has stood shoulder to shoulder with the United States—in war, in peace, in crisis, and in prosperity. It is a friendship built not just on geography, but on shared values, mutual trust, and deep economic ties that have benefited both nations.

And now, Trump and Vance are putting that relationship in jeopardy.

With their reckless tariffs on Canadian goods—on oil, steel, agriculture, and energy—they are undermining one of our most reliable allies, harming American workers, and shattering a trust that has endured generations.

Canada: More Than Just a Neighbor

Canada is not just another country we trade with. It is our closest ally, our largest trading partner, and our most dependable friend on the world stage.

• Canada was there when we needed them. On September 11, 2001, when U.S. airspace was closed, Canada opened its doors to thousands of stranded Americans, offering them shelter, food, and kindness in a time of crisis.

• Canada has fought alongside us in every major war of the 20th and 21st centuries. They bled with us on the beaches of Normandy, in Korea, in Afghanistan.

• Canada is our largest energy supplier, helping fuel the American economy while ensuring we have access to affordable, reliable resources.

• Canada supports American jobs. Trade with Canada directly supports over 9 million U.S. jobs across every state in the union.

This is not a country we should be treating as an enemy.

This is not a country we should be slapping with reckless tariffs that will damage both economies, raise prices on American families, and fracture a relationship that has taken generations to build.

Trump’s Tariffs Are a Betrayal of a Loyal Ally

Trump and Vance claim that these tariffs are about “fair trade.” But what’s fair about punishing a country that has always played by the rules?

What’s fair about driving up the cost of Canadian imports, knowing that it will make life more expensive for American consumers and workers?

What’s fair about forcing Canada into a trade war it never asked for—one that will result in retaliatory tariffs that harm U.S. farmers, manufacturers, and businesses?

This isn’t about fairness. This is economic nationalism masquerading as strategy. It’s a policy rooted in ignorance, not reality. And it is a deliberate insult to a country that has done nothing but stand by our side.

The Consequences of Turning Our Back on Canada

The damage won’t just be economic. The political and diplomatic costs will be far worse.

1. Canada Will Look Elsewhere

   • If the U.S. slaps heavy tariffs on Canadian energy, lumber, and goods, Canada won’t beg for a seat at our table—they will find other partners.

   • China, the European Union, and other global markets will gladly take what we reject, deepening Canada’s economic ties with competitors who don’t share our values.

   • We will lose influence, while other nations gain a foothold.

2. A Strained Security Partnership

   • Canada and the U.S. share military intelligence, NORAD, and border security responsibilities.

   • If we treat them like an adversary in trade, how long before that mistrust spills into security cooperation?

   • Why should Canada prioritize U.S. interests when we are actively harming theirs?

3. Damage That Won’t Be Easily Repaired

   • Relationships like this don’t heal overnight.

   • Once you break trust with an ally, it takes decades to rebuild.

   • Every American president for the last century has understood this—until now.

This Is Not How You Treat a Friend

America has had its share of disputes with Canada before. We have fought over trade deals, border policies, and resource management. But those disagreements have always been handled with diplomacy, respect, and mutual understanding.

Trump and Vance are throwing all of that away.

They are treating Canada like an enemy, punishing them for doing what any sovereign nation would do—defending their economic interests against an unfair and unnecessary assault.

The cost of these tariffs will fall on American consumers, American businesses, and American workers.

But the more profound cost—the moral cost—will be the damage we inflict on a friend who has never turned their back on us.

A Call to Leadership

Real leadership is not about bullying allies.

Real leadership is not about using economic weapons to punish friends.

Real leadership is about strengthening partnerships, not destroying them.

If Trump and Vance cared about American prosperity, they would invest in our alliance with Canada, not tear it apart.

If they cared about putting America first, they would protect the trade relationships that support millions of American jobs, not sabotage them.

Canada has been our ally through war, recession, terrorist attacks, and global crises.

And now, because of political posturing and economic ignorance, we are repaying that loyalty with unprovoked hostility.

This is not leadership.

This is not strategy.

This is a betrayal of our closest ally.

And history will not look kindly on those who let it happen.

I leave readers with this:

On November 18, 2014, The Canadian Maple Leafs were playing against the Nashville Predators. The mic cut out partway through the performance of US national anthem during the display of the US Flag and the Canadian fans enthusiastically finished signing the Star Spangled Banner.

That’s the nation our President has betrayed with an unprovoked trade war.

I have never been so disgusted and ashamed.