The chattering classes are in a predictable uproar this week over the so-called Middle East crisis. If you read the hysterical dispatches from the wire services, you would think the escalating exchange of ballistic missiles between the United States and Iran is some sort of catastrophic failure of diplomacy. People are rending their garments over the retaliatory attacks by the Revolutionary Guards Corps on airbases in Jordan, Kuwait, and Bahrain. They are weeping over the downed US army helicopter that precipitated this entire necessary correction. They are mourning the complete and total collapse of the April 8 ceasefire as if a piece of diplomatic parchment could ever substitute for the visceral thrill of power projection. But as someone who has actually sat in the rooms where history is made, I must politely ask everyone to take a deep breath and look at the market fundamentals.
I was recently enjoying a rather spectacular sea bass at a quiet Georgetown dinner party, the kind of gathering where the guest list is strictly off-the-record, but let us just say it included several individuals whose signatures authorize the movement of carrier strike groups. The mood in the dining room was not one of panic, but of profound, cleansing relief. For weeks, the Washington establishment had been laboring under the oppressive, stifling weight of the April 8 ceasefire. Protracted negotiations over the Strait of Hormuz and Iran’s nuclear program had become a dreary, endless slog of diplomatic cables and white papers. As a prominent defense lobbyist seated to my left remarked while gesturing with a perfectly polished silver fork, peace is all well and good in theory, but it is terribly inefficient for the third-quarter earnings of the aerospace sector.
There is a certain kind of stagnant rot that sets into the American spirit when we go more than fourteen consecutive days without launching a targeted strike.
Sterling is, of course, entirely correct. The American public consistently fails to understand that a ceasefire is not a solution; it is merely an artificial pause in the vibrant, necessary ecosystem of global ordnance expenditure. When President Trump launched the initial strikes following the tragic but strategically useful downing of that US army helicopter, he was not acting out of malice. He was acting as a responsible steward of the military-industrial supply chain. You simply cannot leave billions of dollars of precision-guided munitions sitting in climate-controlled storage facilities. It is bad for the microchips, and it is profoundly disrespectful to the hardworking Americans who manufactured them in crucial swing states.
Naturally, the usual suspects are complaining about the Iranian retaliatory strikes on facilities hosting US forces. When the Revolutionary Guards Corps targeted the airbases in Kuwait and Bahrain, the mainstream media treated it as a disaster. I view it as an opportunity for urban renewal. The citizens of those nations are reportedly upset about the sudden influx of explosive payloads disrupting their evening commutes, but this is a remarkably parochial way to view a geopolitical renaissance. We must ask ourselves: what is a shattered runway in Amman compared to the glorious revitalization of American hard power? The host nations should view these targeted airbase strikes not as acts of war, but as spontaneous, high-intensity infrastructure audits. We are learning so much about the structural integrity of Kuwaiti concrete under the stress of Iranian ballistics, and that data is simply invaluable to our engineering firms.
Then there is the matter of the Strait of Hormuz. For weeks, the bleeding hearts at the State Department have been trying to negotiate the reopening of this vital shipping lane through words. Words! It is a fundamentally unserious approach to maritime logistics. As I discussed with a three-star admiral over a round of golf in Bethesda last weekend, shipping conglomerates had become entirely too complacent. When the Strait is safe, anyone can pilot a supertanker full of crude oil through it. It takes no skill, no vision, no courage. Now that the ceasefire has been breached and the waters are once again a thrilling gauntlet of asymmetric naval warfare, the shipping industry will be forced to innovate. The weak will be weeded out. The strong will learn to outfit their commercial freighters with close-in weapon systems. It is basic free-market competition, applied to the Persian Gulf.
We also must address the hand-wringing over Iran’s nuclear program. The critics argue that abandoning the negotiation table ensures that Tehran will accelerate its uranium enrichment. To which I say: let them. Let them enrich. Let them spin the centrifuges. A robust, well-funded Iranian nuclear threat is exactly the kind of unifying existential terror the American electorate desperately needs right now. We have become soft, bickering over domestic trifles like healthcare, inflation, and housing costs. A rapidly escalating regional conflict with a nuclear-adjacent power provides a much-needed sense of national clarity. It reminds us of who we are: a nation that solves its problems by pointing very expensive flying tubes at the map until the map changes shape.
Furthermore, the discourse surrounding the downed US army helicopter has been embarrassingly sentimental. Yes, a helicopter fell out of the sky. Yes, this precipitated the initial US strikes that shattered the fragile peace. But we must look past the immediate loss of the aircraft and recognize the tremendous opportunity it created. Before the helicopter was downed, we were stuck in a diplomatic quagmire. The moment that rotorcraft hit the dirt, the paradigm shifted. It was the catalyst we needed to cut through the bureaucratic red tape of the April 8 agreement. In many ways, that helicopter gave its life to save us from the sheer boredom of protracted peace talks. We owe it a debt of gratitude.
I was reminded of this during a recent panel discussion I moderated at the Aspen Security Forum, titled Synergy in Asymmetric Escalation. The panelists, an assortment of think-tank luminaries and private equity titans heavily invested in drone manufacturing, were in complete agreement. The problem with peace is that it lacks forward momentum. It is a static condition. War, on the other hand, is dynamic. It creates jobs. It tests new technologies in real-world environments. It provides gripping television. To cling to a broken ceasefire simply because one is afraid of a little reciprocal bombardment is the geopolitical equivalent of refusing to leave one's hometown.
So, as the Revolutionary Guards Corps continues to target our desert outposts, and as our commander-in-chief retaliates with the swift, unthinking decisiveness that makes this country great, I urge you to tune out the cynics. Do not mourn the April 8 ceasefire. Celebrate its demise. It was a restrictive, joyless little agreement that kept us from realizing our full ballistic potential. We are finally back to doing what we do best: managing a sprawling, uncontrollable Middle East crisis live on cable news. And honestly, looking at my stock portfolio this morning, I have never felt better about the future of the republic.