Category: International Relations (IR)

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NATO Isn’t Breaking. It’s Being Repriced.

Introduction

On 12 April 2026, President Trump announced a move to close the Strait of Hormuz effectively, but with a twist. This isn’t a literal blockade of all shipping. It’s a coercive strategy aimed at undermining Iran’s ability to control and monetize the strait. However, those in the EU, particularly Britain, do not agree. Sky News quoted a British government spokesperson who stated, “We continue to support freedom of navigation and the opening of the Strait of Hormuz, which is urgently needed to support the global economy and the cost of living back home”, the spokesperson said, according to Sky News. “The Strait of Hormuz must not be subject to tolling”, the official added.

The current tension has put the alliance’s unity to the test.

As the United States is moving toward enforcement. The EU is signaling restraint. The question is whether NATO can hold together under pressure.

That is the wrong question.

Understand that NATO is not on the verge of collapse—at least not yet. It is not even necessarily weakening in the conventional sense. What we are seeing instead is a shift in how the alliance functions under stress.

The issue is not whether allies agree.

It is whether they are willing to pay.

Because beneath unity and cooperation, a more basic dynamic is emerging: Security is no longer assumed. It is being priced.

This is not just a temporary disagreement over Iran, maritime enforcement, or escalation risk. Rather, it is a shift in how alliances work when the costs of keeping things running get unevenly distributed.

The United States is not asking for support.

It is attempting to preserve control over the system that governs the movement of energy, capital, and coercion—and to determine who bears the cost of enforcing it.

Europe, for its part, is trying to preserve that system while limiting its exposure to escalation and domestic political risk.

Those positions overlap.

But they are not the same.

And the gap between them is where the real change is taking place.

Before proceeding, a brief clarification of what is meant here by “the system.”

The system is the U.S.-led framework that keeps global trade, energy flows, and financial exchange functioning. It is an order the United States pays to enforce—and expects others, particularly within NATO, to help sustain rather than free-ride on.

Strategic Level — System Over Solidarity

The United States is not trying to “get Europe to help.”

That framing is too narrow.

What it is trying to preserve is control over the system that governs the movement of energy, capital, and coercion. The Strait of Hormuz is not just a geographic choke point—it is a test of whether that system can still be enforced under pressure.

From Washington’s perspective, Europe supports open sea lanes—but hesitates to enforce them when contested. Washington’s question for the EU or NATO is, “What are you worth?”

The issue shifts from disagreement to imbalance. Imbalance creates uncertainty—and uncertainty sends mixed signals. A system built on credibility, mixed signals become a liability.

The question now becomes: who pays to maintain the system?

U.S. strategy has to shift under those conditions. From alliance cohesion to enforcement; from shared values to cost distribution; and from unity to tiered participation.

This does not mean abandoning the alliance.

It means redefining it in functional terms.

In some respects, this begins to resemble older political structures more than modern alliances. Not in form, but in behavior. A loose collection of states, unequal in capacity and commitment, cooperating when interests align, diverging when costs rise. At times unified, at other times fragmented, they are constantly negotiating their place within the larger system.

The pattern is familiar, but the comparison is not exact.

Operational Level — Coalition, Not Community

Operationally, the alliance is still holding together. But it’s starting to split into different roles — some countries stepping up, others stepping back.

Willingness to act begins to matter more than formal membership.

In practical terms:

1. The core group (U.S., UK, FRA, DEU, etc.) conducts enforcement operations, deterrence, and escalation management.

2. The secondary group (NLD, SVK, HUN, etc.) contributes indirectly through escort missions, intelligence, and stabilization.

3. All others remain politically aligned but operationally absent.

Collapse?

No.

But a task-organized alliance.

Uniform participation?

No.

Selective contribution.

Pay to play, in one sense.

Political Level — Negotiated Obligation

Politically, the shift is visible.

European governments emphasize restraint and legality. The United States emphasizes credibility, deterrence, and enforcement. Both positions are valid and rational within their respective frameworks.

However, those two approaches do not always line up. And when they do not, the whole character of the alliance starts to shift. What used to be treated as firm, agreed-upon obligations are now quietly renegotiated — made conditional, hedged, or even reversible depending on the moment. Support is no longer something you can count on. It gets evaluated, case by case.

Not in the abstract sense — but in terms of cost:

What does this require?

What does this risk?

What does this return?

The alliance begins to resemble a market. Not because countries have become mercenaries, but because the value of commitments is no longer taken for granted.

Economic Level — Coercion Without Participation

The final layer is economic—and it is decisive.

European states may choose to limit their military role. But they cannot opt out of the system’s economic consequences.

Disruptions in Hormuz translate into:

Energy price volatility

Industrial strain

Insurance and shipping cost increases

Even without direct participation, costs are still imposed.

From a U.S. perspective, this creates leverage.

If allies do not contribute to enforcement, they will still experience the consequences of instability—and may be compelled to align through financial, industrial, or regulatory pressure.

In this sense, strategy extends beyond military action.

It becomes systemic.

NATO is not breaking.

NATO is adapting to pressure in a way that reveals something deeper about how alliances function when costs rise.

The question is no longer whether allies agree—it is whether they are willing to contribute, and at what level.

That shift changes the character of the alliance—not in form, but in function.

What was once assumed is now negotiated.

What was once shared is now distributed.

What was once taken for granted now has a price.

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To Kharg, or not to Kharg—that’s the Question. But Kharg is not a solution—it’s a trigger.

For many weeks, there has been a common argument about any operation around Kharg Island that always lands on the same concerns: it’s just too hard, too exposed, too squeezed by the terrain and the Strait. Because of this, drones will fill the sky, and the defender has every advantage; every movement gets funneled into kill zones. So people conclude the whole thing would fall apart under its own weight. It very well could. But the real issue isn’t whether it could fail—it’s what you’re actually fighting.

The issue is that a decision isn’t the same thing as an outcome. Seizing Kharg is just a decision. It’s the outcome that we question. The question that follows is how the whole system responds, as in the day after. The answer, as we see now, is that markets will flip-flop, shipping reroutes, insurance goes nuts, proxies get involved, escalation ladders light up, and perception shifts. Of course, it could stay the way we see it now, or it could draw back or escalate into a whole new beast. You control the move. You don’t control how the system rearranges around it.

Terrain + Geography = Real Constraint

The Strait of Hormuz is narrow, cluttered, and exposed, lying between Iran to the north and Oman’s Musandam Peninsula to the south. According to the IEA (International Energy Agency), it’s between 21 and 24 miles wide at its narrowest point. Despite this, the shipping traffic is constrained to two narrow lanes, each 2 miles wide.

The southern Iranian coast (Persian Gulf/Gulf of Oman) is characterized by a very narrow or non-existent coastal plain. In many areas, the Zagros Mountains fall directly into the sea, forming rocky cliffs and leaving little room for a coastal foothold—if any—and if so, minimal.

And even if a force pushes past the coastline, the terrain does not open up uniformly.

The only area where it meaningfully opens is to the southwest—the Khuzestan Plain, a low-lying, marshy, triangular extension of the Mesopotamian plain that stretches inland before abruptly meeting the Zagros foothills. Khuzestan is a strategically vital province in southwestern Iran, bordering Iraq and the Persian Gulf. It serves as a major industrial and agricultural hub centered on its capital, Ahvaz, one of the core pillars of Iran’s oil-rich economy.

Overall, one has a minimal foothold at best along most of the coast due to the mountains, which provide elevation dominance and interior depth. Even where the terrain opens, it does so in limited and predictable ways. This creates a strong ISR (intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance) vantage point.

Now, from an operational point of view, this translates into a few realities, starting with terrain.

Elevated terrain provides clear lines of observation and favors missile and drone launches into the Strait or into any nearby body of water. You factor that in with limited coastal space, which creates difficult amphibious landing conditions, restricting maneuver and concentrating forces into predictable zones. Thus, any force operating near the coastline would likely be continuously observed and targetable from the interior.

In short, this is defender-favorable terrain.

Take maritime insurance, for example. The moment Kharg turns into a battlespace, insurers will second-guess. They’ll either pull coverage completely or jack up war-risk premiums so high that shipping becomes untenable. Traffic will slow and reroute—not because anything has been destroyed yet, but because the system is already bracing for the punch. The effect is immediate and mostly beyond the control of the actors involved. There are always exceptions—but they don’t change the pattern.

The Part People are Missing: It’s an Island System, not an Island

1) The Strait is the real battlefield, not Kharg

The decisive terrain isn’t Kharg—it’s the Strait of Hormuz and the islands that sit inside and around it—whoever controls them controls access, denial, shipping lanes, and escalation leverage. Kharg only matters if the US can operate freely in the Gulf.

2) The actual islands that matter (operationally)

Qeshm Island is the largest island in the Strait and sits right along the Iranian coast. Its mountainous and broken terrain is ideal for missile batteries, drone launch zones, and ISR coverage. Therefore, the operational reality is that one does not bypass Qeshm—you either suppress it or live under it.

To the southwest of Qeshm is the smaller disputed island of Abu Musa. The sovereignty of Abu Musa is under Iranian control, but the United Arab Emirates disputes it. The operational role is to provide early warning, forward fire, and serve as a disruption node. In other words, the island serves as a tripwire + sensor platform.

Between the Qeshm and Abu Musa Islands lie the Greater & Lesser Tunb—choke point enforcers. They sit near the narrowest part of the Strait. These islands are small—but that’s the point. What these smaller islands provide is extended denial coverage. This creates overlapping fires and complicates naval movement. Think of it this way, they’re not big—they’re positional.

3) Why this matters (and why Kharg fixation is wrong)

Most online takes assume: “Hit Kharg and the problem is solved.” But operationally, it’s more like if you try to move into the Strait, you’re under constant missile and drone threat, ISR tracking from multiple islands, not to forget also from the mainland. One may suppress one node, but others still function. One may clear islands, but the mainland still dominates. One may move deeper, but the exposure increases.

The real geometry is not linear—it’s layered.

The outer layer: naval access (Hormuz Strait)

Middle layer: island network (Qeshm, Abu Musa, Tunbs)

Inner layer: mainland fires (mountains + depth)

Final node: Kharg

So Kharg is not the door — it’s the room at the back of the house.

Think in operational terms, not target terms. The correct framing is this isn’t about taking an island—it’s about breaking a defensive system of positions. That system is distributed and mutually supporting. It forces troops into progressive exposure.

Kharg isn’t the objective—it’s the consequence. The real fight is the Strait—an island system backed by a continent.

Overall, whether this remains pressure or turns into action, the geometry doesn’t change.

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Pressure Without Victory: The Strategic Stalemate with Iran

Introduction

This is a follow-up to my last article titled What Would War with Iran Look Like?, published on February 25th, 2026. In that article, I outlined what a conflict with Iran might look like militarily and strategically.

In this somewhat shorter article, I want to examine what has actually been done strategically and tactically since then, among other things. What has become increasingly clear is that pressure campaigns do not necessarily produce strategic collapse. In many respects, they work exactly as intended, yet the outcome remains unresolved.

So let’s first examine the U.S. pressure architecture.

U.S. Pressure Architecture

With any nation the United States puts in the crosshairs, it essentially becomes part of a pressured network. So what do I mean by this? What exactly do I mean by U.S. pressure architecture?

Let’s start with economic pressure. What does the United States do first?

Sanctions.

Sanctions are economic, non-military punishments. Think of them as trade bans, asset freezes, financial transaction blocks, travel restrictions, arms embargoes, or even export controls imposed by one or more countries. This is often led by the United States, the UK, the EU, or the UN against a particular country. So basically, take Iran. You have certain groups or individuals pressuring them into changing their behavior—whether that means stopping aggression, halting a nuclear program, addressing human rights abuses, or ending support for terrorism—without actually going to war.

SWIFT exclusion: if you don’t know what that means, it stands for the Society for Worldwide Interbank Financial Telecommunications. SWIFT basically removes you from the global WhatsApp group that banks use to send each other money. Suddenly, your international payments just bounce with a big “user not found” error.

This brings us to energy export restrictions. An example would be Russia. Because of sanctions, Russia is often forced to sell its oil—especially crude—at steep discounts. Sometimes prices fall $10 to $30 per barrel below global benchmarks like Brent crude because buyers know Russia has fewer options and faces higher risks and costs from sanctions.

And lastly, secondary sanctions.

Secondary sanctions, in a nutshell, are when the United States tells foreign banks and companies worldwide: if you keep doing major business with Russia’s military suppliers or Iran’s oil sector, we’ll cut you off from the U.S. financial system—even if you’re not American and the deal technically has nothing to do with us.

Take Russia again as an example. Outside firms helping Russia’s war economy have been forced to drop deals to avoid losing access to dollars and U.S. markets. For Iran, it’s a classic case of non-U.S. banks having to choose between Iranian oil trade and their U.S. correspondent accounts, massively slashing Iranian export revenues.

This brings us now to military pressure, much of which I discussed in my last article: precision strikes, carrier groups, airpower, and ISR surveillance. That in turn overlaps with cyber and intelligence pressure, including cyber operations, assassinations, intelligence disruption, and infrastructure sabotage.

To make all of this work, the United States usually relies on outside help. When it comes to Iran, Washington has been fairly effective at regional containment through Israel, the Gulf states, maritime patrols, and missile defense networks.

All of these arrows point toward Iran.

Why?

Because the objective is the systemic degradation of Iranian power.

IRAN

This brings us to the article’s target: Iran. When it comes to the Iranian regime, you cannot look at it as a single knot. Rather, think of it as multiple smaller circles connected together and labeled. You have the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps, the Qods Force (lit. “Jerusalem Force”), the political leadership, the energy economy, the security apparatus, and ideological legitimacy. All of these represent what is essentially a distributed internal structure.

Iran’s Distributed Response

Iran’s distributed response radiates outward rather than pointing inward. Now, what do I mean by that?

Let’s start with the proxy-warfare network they maintain: Hezbollah, Iraqi militias, the Houthis, Syrian militias, and Palestinian groups. Iran has a rather large network of proxies outside its borders that it can rely on. And it is without a doubt that many of these proxies have networks of their own. They also do not have to be kinetic all the time.

Then there is Iran’s economic adaptation: the shadow oil fleet, China trade networks, smuggling routes, and sanctions evasion. All of these have helped fund the Iranian regime and continue to do so.

So what is Iran’s strategic deterrence in all of this? They rely heavily on missiles—lots of them—and drones as well, which allow for maritime disruption. Think of the Strait of Hormuz. Iran still maintains leverage there.

The reason Iran has been so effective overall, and why it has not really been nudged off course, appears to lie in a combination of nationalism, revolutionary ideology, and a deeply entrenched anti-Western narrative.

The bottom line in all of this is that when it comes to Iran, persistent strategic friction is neither victory nor collapse. It is simply continuous pressure and adaptation.

Taliban commanders once made the point clearly: “You have the watches, but we have the time.” Ambassador Ryan Crocker later echoed this sentiment when discussing Afghanistan: “Americans have the watches; the Taliban have the time—we ran out of patience… Failing to be ready to stay the course is a huge problem for American diplomacy.“

The same logic applies to Iran.

The United States and its allies may have the watches, but Iran has the time. They have been waiting it out since 1979, and it appears they are prepared to keep doing so.

However, I could be wrong.

Conclusion

The problem facing the United States is not the pressure campaigns. It’s not that pressure campaigns fail. Frankly, it’s the opposite. In many respects, they succeed. Take Iran, for instance. Iranian infrastructure is degraded, leadership figures are periodically eliminated, and the economy is continually squeezed, if not in some ways obliterated. On paper, therefore, Iran has already been defeated. But the difficulty lies elsewhere.

Understand that the Iranian system was never built around a single center of gravity that could be struck or collapsed. Instead, it resembles a distributed hydra, so to speak, capable of absorbing blows while shifting pressure outward through its proxies.

Economic adaptation under pressure produces ripple effects. As Iran scrambles to safeguard what strategic assets remain after repeated strikes, it doubles down on asymmetric pressure through its proxy networks across the region. This, in turn, forces surrounding markets and actors to adapt as well, spreading the disruption horizontally across the broader system.

What emerges is not victory, but a form of strategic fiction—sustained through a persistent pressure war in which neither side achieves decisive results, yet neither side disengages. Frankly, what we have here is a strategic standoff that could potentially put the broader global economy at risk.

There are two ways to look at how both the U.S. and Iranian systems are designed. The United States system is built for the decisive degradation of centralized adversaries. The Iranian system is built for distributed survival.

Both systems function exactly as designed. The result is strategic stalemate.

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What Would War with Iran Look Like?

So what would a war with Iran look like? I have no idea, but I have a rough idea, like most. I think the first thing we have to establish is that the real objective isn’t destruction — it’s controlled escalation.

Before the first bomb, the core operational question is what political outcome is being forced. Nuclear rollback? Missile rollback? Regime destabilization? Deterrence by punishment? And how do you stop once the first rung of the escalation ladder is climbed?

The Pentagon’s reported worry — stocks, defenses, time — basically comes down to this: you don’t get to control the length of the war once Iran is firing back. This is according to the Wall Street Journal, which had an article titled “Pentagon Flags Risks of a Major Operation Against Iran,” February 23rd this year. And rightfully so.

So what would the war look like in phases? That is probably the best way to approach it.

Phase Zero or One

If we looked at Phase Zero or Phase One, we would have to call it shaping and positioning — quietly building the kill web. I don’t think there’s any other way around it.

The reality is that this part is what most people miss because it is non-climactic — anti-climactic. So what would this look like?

Picture forward basings. Dispersal of aircraft, often outside Iranian missile range, obviously—tankers and AWACS positioning.

We would probably see a rise in intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance:

  • Satellites
  • RC-135–type aircraft
  • MQ-9 remotely piloted aircraft

Overall, this allows for building the coalition in layers, in other words:

  • Overflight
  • Base access
  • Maritime corridors

This takes us to cyber and electronic preparation, which would include:

  • Mapping networks
  • Identifying choke nodes
  • Rehearsing deception

Even if not publicly acknowledged, this is standard practice in modern planning, regardless.

Recent reporting describing large aircraft movements and posture outside Iranian missile range fits this shaping logic, according to the Washington Post on February 24th.

The purpose of all this is to set conditions so the opening blows land as a system shock and not just a few good strikes.

Phase Two

The first night would probably be about integrated air defense systems and command coherence — not the nuclear sites.

In U.S. doctrine terms, the first operational imperative is counter-air: gain enough control of the air to operate and reduce inbound threats.

What gets prioritized early?

Iran’s integrated air defense system:

  • Sensors
  • C2 links
  • Key SAM nodes (surface-to-air missiles)

Also:

  • Battle management and communications systems that allow Iran to coordinate a coherent air-defense picture

Possibly runway and airbase denial if needed. That doesn’t necessarily mean cratering everything, just enough to complicate sortie generation.

The reason why is simple.

If you cannot operate in or near Iranian airspace with tolerable losses, everything else becomes slower, more expensive, and more escalatory.

Which brings us to Phase Three.

Phase Three

Phase three would be to roughly stop the arrows or offensive counter-air against missile launch capacity. This would involve operations designed to destroy, disrupt, or neutralize enemy missile launch platforms, supporting infrastructure, and command-and-control networks before or after launch.

U.S. joint doctrine explicitly treats offensive counter-air as the preferred way to reduce the threat burden on defenses, because shooting every inbound is a losing math problem. Basically, nearly downright futile.

So very quickly, the campaign becomes a race to disrupt Iran’s ability to launch:

  • Mobile launchers
  • Storage
  • Fueling and handling
  • Targeting chains

Which brings us to breaking the sensor-to-shooter loop that enables Iranian missiles and drones to find and hit U.S. bases or regional partners.

This is where cybernetic–kinetic decapitation comes into reality.

Kinetic strikes alone won’t erase dispersed missile forces. Period. It’s not going to do it.

The condition to win is paralyzing the system that makes launches effective:

  • Communications
  • Cueing
  • Targeting
  • Logistics
  • Coordination

You get the picture.

Phase Four

Phase four is the maritime and base-defense grind — because Iran gets a vote.

Even if Iran’s air defenses are degraded, the hard part is sustaining operations under retaliation. There’s no way around it.

So you’re going to have to expect a huge emphasis on integrated air and missile defense around:

  • Carrier groups
  • Major airbases
  • Key regional infrastructure

This is doctrinally central to U.S. counter-air and missile operations.

The Pentagon analysts worry for a reason.

Interceptors, along with precision stockpiles, are consumed quickly in a prolonged exchange. You can win tactically and still bleed strategic readiness.

This was pointed out by the Pentagon’s concerns about a major operation against Iran.

Phase Five

What would that look like?

Strategic pressure strikes:

  • Energy
  • Industry
  • Regime levers

This is the controversial part. For if the goal shifts from limited coercion to regime compliance, escalation moves toward:

  • Critical infrastructure
  • Industrial nodes
  • National-level command structures
  • Regime security organs: The Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC)

This is where wars either end — because the opponent yields — or metastasize because the opponent escalates asymmetrically, regionally, and politically.

In other words: The beast takes on a life of its own.

It is also where coalition support often fractures because humanitarian and political costs spike, and the question “Why are we doing this?” becomes much louder.

Not only in legislatures — but in the streets.

Eventually, everybody catches on.

Phase Six

This phase is where we may see the termination and off-ramps, because this is where most plans are weakest.

A serious plan has to be pre-baked. It doesn’t matter what it is — it just has to be pre-baked.

  • What success looks like in measurable terms — not vibes
  • What concessions end the campaign
  • How to prevent uncontrolled regional widening
  • How to handle Iran’s proxies
  • How to handle maritime retaliation if the main air war pauses

This reflects the current public debate. Officials reportedly weigh options ranging from limited strikes to prolonged campaigns, with concerns over costs and blowback. In other words, what is our exit strategy?

So what makes this opening air campaign any different from the 2003 Iraq campaign, operationally speaking?

Even without getting lost in platform details, the key differences are structural.

Geography and depth make it harder to see the entire battlespace.

Dispersed missiles and drones make it harder to eliminate and easier to regenerate.

Undergrounding and redundancy or slowing decisive effects.

Regional vulnerability of U.S. bases and partners — Iran can impose costs without prevailing.

That is why the campaign’s center of gravity tends to become:

  • Missile suppression
  • Base defense
  • Endurance

Not quick decapitation.

So what would cybernetic–kinetic decapitation look like in real terms?

It wouldn’t mean “hack everything.”

It would look more like:

  • Blind and confuse the sensing layer: This involves jamming or spoofing sensors, radars, or surveillance systems through cyberattacks, electronic warfare, or disinformation, essentially creating a “fog of war.”
  • Disrupt the coordination layer: Targeting communication networks, nodes, or decision hubs to isolate units and prevent unified responses. In other words, divide-and-conquer communication.
  • Throttle launch and targeting cycles: Slowing the adversary’s observe-orient-decide-act (OODA) loop by delaying, false data, or overloads, making their reactions sluggish.
  • Exploit paralysis with selective kinetic strikes: Using the induced vulnerability for exact physical attacks, like missiles or special operations, on critical targets.
  • Sustain while managing retaliation and off-ramps: Maintaining pressure through ongoing operations while controlling escalation, while offering diplomatic exits to avoid a wider conflict.

Modern air campaigns aim to achieve political objectives without occupying territory. It’s a cheaper cut.

The Larger Meaning: War in the Age of Persistent Visibility

In conclusion, a war with Iran would ultimately illustrate not just the mechanics of an air campaign but also a broader shift in how war is conducted in the twenty-first century. It is a far cry from the twentieth.

The campaign described here would not be centered on territorial conquest, nor would it depend primarily on traditional battlefield maneuver. Instead, it would revolve around managing visibility and strikeability within a persistently observed battlespace.

It is like fighting inside a snow globe, you might say. Everything can be seen, and nothing fully escapes observation, targeting, and death.

Modern war increasingly unfolds in a condition of persistent visibility. Satellites, drones, signals intelligence, and networked sensors have made the operational environment structurally transparent in ways that did not exist even a generation ago. Even as recently as 2003, the battlespace was obviously not as technologically dense as it is today.

Forces now emit — thermally, electronically, or physically — and in doing so become detectable. And once detected, they become targetable.

The result is a battlespace in which the logic of operations shifts. Movement alone no longer guarantees survival, but neither does concealment alone guarantee security. Both static and mobile forces operate under conditions of uninterrupted observation.

Under these conditions, the maneuver does not disappear, but it changes character.

Operational maneuver becomes inseparable from signature management. Understand that the force that survives is not necessarily the force that moves fastest; rather, it is the force that can control its visibility while sustaining combat power.

A war with Iran would likely demonstrate this clearly. The central operational problem would not be destroying Iranian forces outright, which would be an unrealistic objective against a large and redundant state. Instead, rendering them operationally ineffective via disrupting the systems that allow them to detect, coordinate, and strike.

This is why the campaign’s center of gravity would shift toward:

Sensor disruption

Command dislocation

Missile suppression

Defensive endurance

Victory in such a war would not come via decisive battlefield collapse, but through operational suffocation — the gradual reduction of the enemy’s ability to function as a coherent military system.

In that sense, the emerging model of warfare is neither purely maneuver nor purely attrition.

Better understood as maneuver-attrition conducted inside a transparent battlespace.

The objective is not simply to destroy the enemy’s forces, but to place them in a condition where meaningful operations become impossible.

That is the deeper logic behind what might be called cybernetic–kinetic decapitation — not the physical elimination of every launcher or facility, but the disruption of the networks that make those systems effective.

Modern war, in this sense, is less about the destruction of armies than the paralysis of systems.

And if a war with Iran comes, it will likely be remembered less for its opening strikes than for what it reveals about warfare in the age of persistent visibility.

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To Greenland, or Not to Greenland: The U.S. Question

On December 22, 2024, President Trump stated on Truth Social: “For purposes of National Security and Freedom throughout the World, the United States of America feels that the ownership and control of Greenland is an absolute necessity.”

Over the last 158 years, the United States has sought to purchase Greenland from Denmark at different times, beginning in 1867, when Secretary of State William H. Seward (Johnson administration) pursued Greenland for its Arctic position and telegraph ambitions. In 1910, the United States explored acquisition again, and again in 1946, and so on to the present day. Below is a chart/table I put together of each attempted push to acquire the island.

Year(s)U.S. Actor(s)Context / MotiveWhat HappenedOutcomeKey Primary Sources
1867–1868Sec. of State William H. Seward (Johnson admin)Post–Civil War expansion; Arctic navigation, coal stations, telegraph routesInformal discussions about buying Greenland + Iceland from DenmarkDenmark declined• U.S. State Dept. Papers Relating to Foreign Affairs (1868) • Congressional Executive Documents, 40th Congress
1910State Dept. (Taft admin)Arctic strategy; North Atlantic positioningDraft tripartite land-swap treaty (U.S.–Germany–Denmark) involving GreenlandNever ratified• U.S. National Archives, RG 59 (State Dept. records) • Draft treaty text in Foreign Relations of the United States (FRUS), 1910
1946Pres. Harry S. TrumanEarly Cold War; Soviet threat; air/naval basingFormal offer: $100 million in gold to DenmarkDenmark refused• FRUS 1946, vol. XI • Truman–Byrnes correspondence • Danish Foreign Ministry archives
1951Truman adminNATO consolidationInstead of purchase, long-term base agreement (Thule Air Base)U.S. gains permanent military access• U.S.–Denmark Defense Agreement (1951)
2019Pres. Donald TrumpArctic shipping lanes, China/Russia activity, rare earthsPublic inquiry to buy GreenlandDenmark refused• White House press statements (2019) • Danish PM statements

So, is the potential acquisition of Greenland good or bad? Politically, there is significant pushback—and rightfully so. This comes from Denmark, the European Union, and NATO, not to mention critics within the United States and, most importantly, the people of Greenland, who have the greatest say. However, the world is still ruled by realpolitik, justified by raison d’État. So, once again: is the purchase or taking of Greenland good or bad?

Politically, it is a bad move. The more relevant question is what the political fallout would be.

Why is it politically alarming?

The harm stems from system-level consequences, and it starts with NATO.

Buying territory via coercion from a fellow NATO member (Denmark) fractures alliance trust. This, in turn, sets a precedent in which alliances become conditional when power shifts. Moreover, it weakens Article 5’s credibility—psychologically, even if not legally.

This also brings us to EU and allied backlash, which reinforces the narrative that the United States treats allies as instruments rather than partners. Because of this, it could—or will—push Europe toward strategic autonomy. If so, one should expect hedging behavior, in which state “A” avoids fully committing to one power or one alliance and instead spreads its risks across multiple options.

This kind of behavior represents a form of neo-feudalization of international politics. States “A,” “B,” and so forth will no longer give exclusive loyalty to a single patron, but instead distribute their security, economic, and diplomatic dependencies across multiple great powers. Power is thus measured in self-economic control and security guarantees, which will increasingly resemble conditional contracts rather than formal alliances. These alliances will remain, but they will come to resemble contractual arrangements more than political communities bound by ideological similarity.

The Greenlandic legitimacy problem

This is a major issue, for legitimacy flows from the people, not merely from territory or treaties. In other words, sovereignty is no longer simply control of land. Control over the land people live on is now justified by the consent, identity, and political will of the population itself, and this has been the norm since 1945. One can point to the UN Charter, which promotes self-determination, decolonization, referenda, and human rights.

So, in the Greenlandic context, even if the United States and Denmark agreed legally, without Greenlandic consent, the acquisition would be viewed as illegitimate by most international institutions, most states, and the population itself. This could translate into chronic political instability, resistance politics, and permanent narrative warfare against the United States.

When I say resistance politics, I do not mean armed rebellion. More likely, it would take the form of protests and strikes, refusal to cooperate with institutions, and the emergence of sustained political movements.

Even a legal “purchase” without genuine local consent would create a permanent legitimacy deficit—that is, a lasting condition in which authority is never fully accepted by the governed population or by much of the international system. While this makes a low-level insurgency or sustained unrest unlikely, it would still serve as political cannon fodder: a propaganda gift to Russia and China.

This brings us to the global precedent.

Global precedent

The acquisition of Greenland could establish a global precedent if the United States were to go through with it. In other words, normalization. Normalizing territorial acquisition by a great power would encourage others to proceed with calculated caution. One can think of Russia’s dealings with Ukraine, Georgia, and Moldova (the Transnistria conflict), Turkey in northern Syria, or China in the South China Sea and the possible invasion of Taiwan. Not to mention the many other states with unresolved border disputes scattered across the globe.

This is where spheres-of-influence logic, to some degree, supersedes the rules-based order. In doing so, it weakens the very system that benefits the United States economically and financially.

Political fallout: What actually happens if the United States tries

From a short-term perspective, this would create a severe diplomatic crisis with Denmark. The European Union would almost certainly condemn the United States, and NATO would fracture internally under the strain. One would also expect significant domestic political backlash and public protest.

From a mid-term perspective—if there even is one—NATO becomes more transactional and less cohesive. In other words, NATO would still exist, but it would stop functioning as a political community and start operating more like a marketplace of temporary bargains. Think of it as a mercenary state for hire. Support becomes case-by-case. NATO members begin to think in terms of: What do I get in return? What does this cost me domestically? Is U.S. support conditional this time?

Obligations become negotiable and reversible rather than automatic. Alliance membership begins to resemble a protection racket—a pay-for-play arrangement, a mercenary logic applied at the level of states. NATO shifts from a community of mutual defense into a market for security guarantees. This is not a moral condemnation. It is a structural diagnosis.

Historically, systems built on that logic are stable only until the price changes. When it does, uncertainty follows.

Europe accelerates toward defense independence. China and Russia exploit the hypocrisy narrative relentlessly. Arctic militarization accelerates.

From a long-term perspective, two possible equilibria emerge.

The first is what one might call power normalization, in which the world once again accepts spheres of influence. The United States gains territory but loses moral authority, and the international system reverts to a more openly nineteenth-century character. History does not repeat, but it rhymes.

The second scenario is strategic overreach. In this case, the United States gains territory, but it pays a persistent alliance and legitimacy tax—one that quietly compounds over time. The map improves. The balance sheet deteriorates. Regardless of the territorial gain, the net power position stagnates or even weakens.

Conclusion

Surprisingly, none of this means the United States would be acting irrationally. Nor, for that matter, would any other major power. From the standpoint of realpolitik, the logic is clear. Geography does not change. The Arctic is opening. The chess pieces are positioning themselves, as if in a game of Go. The United States is acting rationally in seeking to secure Greenland regardless of EU or NATO cohesion, because in a multipolar system, strategic geography outweighs institutional loyalty. And when control is lost, it is rarely regained without cost.

As for raison d’État, it has never concerned itself with moral comfort, only with survival and advantage. Institutions will always preach unity to the masses, but states prepare for fragmentation. That is the essence of raison d’État. The problem is that what is strategically coherent can still be systemically destructive. The acquisition of Greenland may strengthen the United States on a map, but weaken the architecture that made that map stable in the first place.

Power is gained, and trust is spent. And in international politics, trust—once gone—is rarely rebuilt at the same price it was lost. That is the dilemma. Not whether the United States can pursue Greenland, but what kind of international order it is willing to inhabit if it does.

This is where the Wild West meets the Wild East.