Earlier this year, in an unexpected divergence from the long-prevailing foreign policy rhetoric of presidents from both parties, Donald Trump gave a speech in Riyadh criticizing interventionists, neoconservatives, and America’s habit of bombing Middle Eastern countries. “In the end, the so-called ‘nation-builders’ wrecked far more nations than they built,” he said, “and the interventionists were intervening in complex societies that they did not even understand themselves.”
Many were intrigued by Trump’s acknowledgment of past U.S. failures in the region and the historical disregard for those nations’ agency. But five weeks later, he authorized U.S. airstrikes on three nuclear facilities in Iran, and a day later endorsed “regime change” to “Make Iran Great Again.”
The bombings may have surprised many, but it was hardly unprecedented. It followed a pattern that every U.S. president this century has, at some point, contributed to: launching military action without oversight, or based on false, manipulated, or selective intelligence—and facing no real consequences for doing so. From Iraq to Libya, Syria to Yemen, and now Iran, the cycle continues. Trump may be the most shameless president to casually enter military hostilities—but he is clearly not the first. And unless we confront the root problem—impunity and lack of accountability for presidents who do so—he will not be the last.
Flip-flops like this aren’t surprising; we’ve grown numb to presidents contradicting their own promises. Trump ran on “America First,” vowing to end endless wars—then escalated them. Before him, President Biden pledged to center human rights and end wars, yet continued arming Israel despite well-documented atrocities in violation of U.S. and international law, while his administration exploited loopholes to bypass congressional oversight. The deeper danger lies not in hypocrisy but complicity: accepting the fabricated narratives that justify committing reckless acts of war.
The notion that Israel’s strike on Iran—and America’s follow-up—were part of a coordinated strategy to force a nuclear deal is fiction. Iran was already at the negotiating table. Trump’s decision to strike was not part of a grand strategy; it was political panic, as he was cornered by MAGA hardliners and spiking oil prices. Nor was the brief war’s end a strategic success: Claims that the U.S. strikes completely destroyed key nuclear capabilities have been widely refuted, and Iran is now more likely to pursue nuclear weapons. This raises concerns about U.S. sovereignty, as Israel’s unilateral decision to strike Iran influenced U.S. foreign-policy discourse and ultimately pressured Trump into joining the war.
The war began erratically and ended performatively, but more dangerously, a consensus is emerging that it’s easier to accept distorted intelligence than challenge it. Some anti-war voices argue they are trapped in a dilemma, where embracing a false narrative—that the U.S. strikes were a success—feels safer than risking escalation. But this grim choice between war and acquiescence is not inevitable. It is the product of eroded norms and abandoned tools. We are not just normalizing unauthorized strikes; we are legitimizing deceit as a method of restraint.
One doesn’t have to reach back far in history to find similarly manipulated narratives about U.S. wars. Albeit necessary, and rather late, the decision to end the war in Afghanistan, which was initiated under Trump’s first term, concluded with the chaotic withdrawal under the Biden administration that endangered lives, abandoned allies, and enabled the full return of the Taliban. Afterward, Secretary of State Antony Blinken insisted nation-building was never the goal, undermining years of rhetoric about democracy promotion, girls’ education, and fighting repression. A failure was rebranded as “mission accomplished”—just like Trump’s Iran narrative. Even longtime critics of the war softened their response, reluctant to puncture the illusion of closure.
This contributed to the normalization of deceit that we’re seeing today in the wake of the strikes on Iran. And it’s flourishing because we have long abandoned the one mechanism that could have prevented it: accountability.
It is often said that it’s better to ask forgiveness than permission. But today’s presidents ask for neither. Strikes are launched without authorization—and without consequences for those giving the orders. The first line of opposition many adopted against Trump’s strike (including myself) was that he acted without congressional approval. But does that address the real problem?
Yes, Trump acted without approval. And although the war is ostensibly over—for now—the war powers resolutions introduced in Congress after the strikes deserve support. But authorization alone does not confer legitimacy or prevent atrocities. The Iraq War had congressional approval—thanks in part to fabricated intelligence—and there has been no accountability for those who mislead Americans into a catastrophic, illegal war.
In the absence of transparency and accountability, partial mechanisms and fragmented oversight can be just as dangerous as outright lawlessness. They provide a veneer of legitimacy to unchecked power. War-making persists not because of legal ambiguity, but because those responsible pay no cost.
We’ve allowed impunity to become bipartisan, and performance to replace principle. The audience is no longer the public; it’s donors, lobbyists, and political machines that punish dissent. Today, members of Congress are not just afraid of criticizing a president—they’re afraid of criticizing an ally, for fear of being labeled antisemitic or primaried by a challenger funded by pro-Israel super PACs.
Trump—often seen as a unilateralist—has given Israel special treatment. Unlike his pay-for-protection approach with Taiwan and Europe, where he demanded contributions for U.S. defense, Trump abandoned that principle with Israel. Following Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s lead, he launched an unauthorized bombing raid and declared victory based on unauthenticated claims that Iran’s nuclear sites had been “obliterated.” In these military adventures, people in the region are treated as expendable pieces in a strategic chess game.
Rather than a dilemma—accepting a false narrative to avoid further war—we have an opportunity. Now is the moment to distinguish ourselves from Trump’s corruption, recklessness, and “transactionalism” by standing for honesty, integrity, and accountability in U.S. foreign policy. That means highlighting what diplomacy can achieve and what war does not. We must avoid being dragged deeper into the failed logic of “peace through strength,” a doctrine that doesn’t prevent war but ensures its return.
But if we choose to support one of Trump’s narratives to avoid future conflicts, let it be these words from his speech in Riyadh: “In recent years, far too many American presidents have been afflicted with the notion that it’s our job to look into the souls of foreign leaders and use U.S. policy to dispense justice for their sins.… My job [is] to defend America and to promote the fundamental interests of stability, prosperity, and peace.” Perhaps one day, America will elect a president who truly believes this.
