Wars of the powerful, wounds of the powerless

After finishing Conflict by General David Petraeus and Andrew Roberts, I was struck not by the novelty of the insights, but by how familiar and cyclical it all feels. The strategies, the justifications, the shifting alliances—they change in form but not in function. The book is a masterclass in understanding the mechanics of modern warfare, but it reinforced a darker, unshakable belief: there will never be peace.

Not because people don’t want peace - most do. But because war is rarely waged by the people. War is owned, orchestrated, and perpetuated by political leaders. The general public, by contrast, has little say and bears much of the cost.

The political theater of war

Politicians wage war for many reasons: to assert dominance, to protect “interests,” to secure legacy, or simply to appear decisive in moments of crisis. It’s easy to call for action from behind a podium or in a situation room. It’s easy to send troops when you will never see their faces again. It’s easy to talk about geopolitics when you’ll never have to hold a dying soldier’s hand.  Petraeus writes in Conflict, “Military power is a tool of policy, but too often, policy is shaped without a clear understanding of what military power can and cannot achieve.”

This is at the heart of the problem: politicians author strategy but rarely bear the burden of its failure.  If our political leaders had to lead from the front, perhaps they would reconsider. If they had to walk through the bombed-out remnants of the towns their policies destroyed, maybe they’d think twice. But they don’t. And so, the cycle continues.

Former U.S. Defense Secretary Robert Gates once remarked “Too many of the people making decisions about war have never been in one.” The decisions are often sanitized, made in quiet rooms where death is measured in columns and charts.

Afghanistan - the graveyard of empires

Take Afghanistan. How many times has that country been entered, fought over, and abandoned? The British tried. The Soviets tried. The Americans stayed for two decades and left in scenes of chaos reminiscent of Saigon in 1975. Thousands of troops killed. Tens of thousands of civilians dead. Trillions spent. And for what? 

Petraeus reflected, “The mission in Afghanistan was undercut by short-term thinking and a lack of strategic patience. We were never fully clear about what success even looked like.”

And in the end, the Taliban—whom the U.S. aimed to dismantle in 2001—are back in control in 2025. The U.S. led coalition entered with promises of liberation and democracy and left behind uncertainty, fear, and an emboldened enemy.

The Iran–Israel pattern

Look at Iran and Israel—a rivalry as enduring as it is destructive. The latest escalations are not the first, and they won’t be the last. Both sides are caught in a vicious loop of retaliation and provocation, while politicians posture for domestic audiences and regional influence.  Petraeus writes that in the modern era, “Conflicts are increasingly fought in the shadows, through proxies and cyberattacks, creating ambiguity that blurs lines between war and peace.”

It is in this ambiguity that politicians thrive. It gives them plausible deniability and endless justification to act without true accountability.  And who pays? Civilians. Always.

The public's powerlessness

There’s a myth in modern democracies that the public holds the power. “We elect the leaders.” “We can protest.” “We have a voice.” And while that’s partially true, in matters of war, that voice is often muffled or ignored entirely. Once the machine of war begins turning, it’s nearly impossible to stop.  By the time the public hears about it, the wheels are already in motion. “Support the troops” becomes a way to silence dissent, not understand the cause. “National security” becomes an all-encompassing rationale to avoid scrutiny.

So what?

If we accept that this system is unlikely to change—at least not soon—what does that mean for us? Do we check out, disengage, and accept war as an inevitability? Or do we fight in different ways? Personally, I choose awareness over ignorance. I choose to write, to speak, to challenge the narratives that justify endless war. I choose to question the leaders who send others to fight battles they themselves would never face.

Peace is a political inconvenience. War, on the other hand, is politically useful - until it isn’t. That’s the tragic reality we live in. But even if we can’t stop the next war, we can stop pretending it’s fair, necessary, or inevitable.

War may always be with us. But so too can be the will to expose its lies, remember its victims, and demand better - even if the system resists.

That might not change the world. But it changes how I live in it. And that matters.