Everyone in Washington is suddenly hyperventilating about Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth’s emergency funding request. But if you look at the sheer quality of the munitions we are dropping, the American taxpayer is getting the deal of a lifetime.
There is a certain kind of Washington hand who simply cannot handle the sticker shock of global hegemony. All week, I have been fielding frantic texts from otherwise serious people hyperventilating about the $37.5 billion price tag for our current activities in Iran. They look at five months of sustained kinetic operations and see a massive drain on the treasury. I look at it and see a masterclass in fiscal restraint.
Let's be honest, $37.5 billion does not buy what it used to. When you factor in inflation, supply chain bottlenecks, and the sheer premium on next-generation precision munitions, securing a robust foothold in the Zagros Mountains for under forty billion is practically a Black Friday doorbuster. The fact that anyone is complaining about this shows a fundamental unseriousness about the cost of maintaining the rules-based international order.
This became abundantly clear to me on Tuesday during a closed-door meeting with Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth. We were going over the latest expenditure reports, and he walked me through his pending request for up to $70 billion in emergency military spending to keep the operation funded through the fiscal year. The critics on Capitol Hill are already calling this a blank check. But as the Secretary rightly pointed out, you cannot put a price tag on credibility, even if that price tag happens to be seventy billion dollars.
The Secretary was gracious enough to walk me through the line items over coffee in his private suite. He pointed out that when you are managing a five-month conflict, you aren't just buying bullets. You are buying the narrative architecture of the conflict itself. The Pentagon has had to retain top-tier external consultants just to workshop the naming conventions for our strategic bombing runs, ensuring the messaging remains palatable for European allies. That kind of premium branding simply does not come cheap.
The sheer logistics of modern warfare demand a premium. We are not just blindly dropping ordnance into the desert. We are deploying highly sophisticated, data-driven force multipliers that require immense backend support. The cloud computing bills alone for the drone targeting algorithms are staggering, to say nothing of the ergonomic field chairs required for the analysts piloting them from Nevada. You want a smart war, you have to pay Silicon Valley rates.
Just yesterday, I sat down for branzino with a senior vice president at a major defense conglomerate who looked absolutely exhausted. He explained that if Congress doesn't approve Hegseth's $70 billion supplemental by the end of the month, his firm might have to delay a planned stock buyback program. We are essentially asking the pillars of the American economy to shoulder the burden of our foreign policy whims out of their own operating budgets. It is entirely unreasonable.

The American public simply does not grasp the economies of scale involved in regime change, and frankly, it is not their job to.
Visser is entirely correct. The average voter sees $70 billion and immediately starts doing back-of-the-napkin math about how many bridges that could fix or how much student debt it could forgive. This is a fundamentally provincial way of looking at macro-geopolitics. A repaired bridge in Ohio does not project strength to our adversaries. A cratered runway outside of Isfahan does.
Critics love to point out isolated incidents, like the fact that we recently fired a $4 million interceptor missile to destroy a rusted pickup truck carrying three insurgents and a goat. They call this wasteful. I call it a stunning demonstration of overwhelming capacity. When you use a multi-million-dollar piece of aerospace engineering to vaporize a $400 vehicle, you are sending a psychological message that no amount of cheap drone warfare can match. You are telling the enemy that we have so much money we literally do not care. That is the kind of deterrence you cannot buy at a discount.

I saw this resolve firsthand at a black-tie gala for the Center for Strategic and International Studies last weekend. The mood in the ballroom was incredibly tense. These are the architects of our global posture, the people who actually understand the board, and they were forced to spend their evening checking their phones to see if a handful of Midwestern senators were going to hold up the emergency funding over some localized dispute about farm subsidies. It was humiliating to watch these visionaries having to beg for what amounts to pocket change in the grand sweep of history.
We are trying to map out a generational realignment of the Middle East, and my phone keeps buzzing with CNN alerts about continuing resolutions.

What we are really talking about here is the immense personal burden we are placing on Secretary Hegseth. He is currently trying to manage a highly complex, multi-theater escalation against the Islamic Republic, and instead of focusing entirely on troop deployments and strike coordinates, he has to spend his afternoons acting as a glorified accountant for the Senate Armed Services Committee. We are taking one of our premier geopolitical minds and bogging him down in audits.
A committee staffer tells me that some members of the caucus are getting cold feet because of the upcoming midterms. They are worried about facing voters who have been radicalized by TikTok into caring about the national debt. This is exactly why foreign policy should be insulated from the electoral cycle. If you let the people who buy their groceries with coupons dictate the funding mechanisms for carrier strike groups, you end up with a paralyzed superpower.
We need to stop viewing defense supplemental requests as a burden and start viewing them as an investment in our own self-esteem. When we balk at the cost of a multi-front Middle Eastern engagement, we are telling the world we no longer believe in ourselves. I, for one, refuse to put a discount sticker on American resolve. If it takes another hundred billion to prove we are serious, I say we write the check and thank the Secretary for his prudent management of the funds.