Antonio Navalón
Whenever a new war breaks out, we are compelled to ask ourselves some fundamental questions. When one observes the initial military movements in a conflict that directly or indirectly involves the United States, a fundamental question immediately arises: What is the real objective of the war in Iran, and what does it aim to achieve? In reality, it is not just about the military dimension, but also about the political, strategic, and moral significance attributed to it.
In every war, there is a basic principle that is rarely stated clearly enough. A war is not waged simply for the sake of it. It is waged because someone believes that something must be gained that cannot be obtained by other means. That is why the first question any democratic society should ask is simple and direct: Who stands to gain from the war, and what exactly is at stake? Without that answer, any conflict risks losing legitimacy in its own population’s eyes and, in this case, the world’s.
The United States has historically faced this dilemma. Public opinion has reacted very differently depending on the nature of each conflict. When the objective is clear and perceived as a direct threat—as occurred during World War II following the attack on Pearl Harbor—domestic support tends to solidify. When the justification is ambiguous or prolonged over time, as occurred in Vietnam, Iraq, or Afghanistan, domestic support begins to erode. War then ceases to be a national strategy and becomes a source of political division.
One of the most recurring arguments in U.S. strategic policy has been prevention: the idea of preventing a potential adversary from acquiring capabilities that could seriously threaten international security. For decades, this logic was applied to nuclear proliferation. The premise was simple: to prevent regimes considered unpredictable or hostile from developing weapons capable of altering the global balance of power. That preventive logic has been a central part of U.S. defense policy from the Cold War to the present day.
Washington’s relationship with strategic allies such as Israel can also be understood in this context. For Israel, the central argument has always been the right to defend itself against existential threats in a region marked by recurring conflicts and deep-seated geopolitical rivalries. Since its founding in 1948, the State of Israel has maintained that its survival depends on maintaining a superior deterrent capability against its regional adversaries. For the United States, supporting that capability is part of its strategic architecture in the Middle East.
However, every war has a domestic political cost. And that cost is measured not only in lives or economic resources, but also in the public perception of its necessity. That is why the question asked by any ordinary citizen in places as far from the front lines as Michigan or Pennsylvania remains valid: what does an American citizen really gain from a new political-military adventure? That question is as legitimate as it is uncomfortable for any government that decides to become involved in a conflict.
Another element that always arises in the debate over war is the role of the military-industrial complex. Few historical warnings have been as clear as the one issued by President Dwight D. Eisenhower on January 17, 1961, in his farewell address from the White House. In that message, he warned of the growth of the so-called military-industrial complex, a structure of interests that combines political power, the defense budget, and the arms industry. Eisenhower warned that this alliance could come to exert a disproportionate influence on the country’s strategic decisions.
That warning is still cited today because it raises a fundamental question: to what extent do decisions about war respond solely to security needs, and to what extent do they respond to various internal economic and political dynamics of the countries involved? The defense industry is one of the most powerful sectors of the U.S. economy, and its influence on strategic debate has been a subject of discussion for decades.
History also shows that modern wars are not fought solely on the battlefield. They are also waged in the realm of terrorism and asymmetric conflicts. Since the attacks of September 11, 2001, it has become clear that the threat can emerge from dispersed networks, capable of attacking indiscriminately and without a conventional state structure. This type of violence completely transforms the perception of security within Western societies themselves.
That is why the debate on war always comes back to the same point: how can a democracy be protected without sacrificing the principles that underpin it? The threat of international terrorism, radicalized actors, or rapidly escalating regional conflicts forces states to make difficult decisions. But it also requires clearly explaining to their citizens why those decisions are necessary.
In the end, the fundamental questions remain open. What strategic objectives justify a war? Which threats are truly existential, and which can be managed by other means? And, above all, what is the balance between security, power, and political legitimacy in an increasingly unstable world?
Because war can be started for many reasons, but sustaining it without clear answers for society is much more difficult. And in a democracy, sooner or later, those answers are always demanded.
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