When force, deception, and control are presented as diplomacy.
Diplomacy is not complicated. It requires honesty, restraint, and respect for human life. When those are absent, what remains is not diplomacy—it is manipulation. Bullies rely on pressure. Conmen rely on deception. That is what this is.
Iran, Lebanon, Ukraine, Palestine
1 Having a state use proxies to attack sovereign states, then present itself as a mediator, is ludicrous. Its normalization makes it worse.
2 Diplomacy only works when both sides come to the table in good faith. It is not diplomacy when one side lies to buy time, rearm, troubleshoot failure, or gather outside forces. That is not negotiation. That is staging.
Bullying has no place in diplomacy. Threats, coercion, intimidation, and unprovoked attacks are not “statecraft.” They are aggression dressed up and sold as leadership. Diplomacy is dialogue short of violence. When force and threats take over, diplomacy has already failed.
How did diplomacy work out for Iran?
Iran has been under sustained pressure for decades—sanctions, isolation, and confrontation with the United States and Israel. U.S. sanctions date back to 1979 and have expanded over time, targeting Iran’s economy, banking, and energy sectors, as documented by U.S. and international policy institutions.
At the core of that tension is Iran’s refusal to align itself under U.S. and Israeli influence. Iran is not a recent state—it is a millennia-old civilization. By contrast, the modern state of Israel is less than a century old, and the United States less than three centuries.
That distinction matters. It speaks to what is at stake: sovereignty, identity, and historical continuity.
The United States itself sits on land once home to advanced Indigenous civilizations. Societies such as the Mississippian culture built major urban centers like Cahokia—one of the largest cities in North America before European arrival, with complex political and economic systems.
Those civilizations were dismantled through colonization, forced displacement, warfare, and disease. Indigenous populations declined dramatically—by as much as 50–90 percent in some regions—through violence, dispossession, and introduced disease.
That history is foundational.
So when the United States frames pressure, sanctions, or intervention as “stability,” the question remains: Stability for who—and at whose expense?
In the current phase, Iran has made its position clear: if U.S. bases embedded in neighboring countries are used to launch attacks—whether through missiles, surveillance, cyber operations, or coordination—those bases become targets. That is deterrence stated plainly.
If regional states object when their territory is struck in response, the question is simple: how does Iran view countries that allow foreign military presence under the banner of “security,” when that presence is used against it? Security for who exactly?
From Iran’s perspective, those installations are viewed as extensions of U.S. and Israeli power. When those same states condemn retaliation, the contradiction is clear.
Historically, Iran has absorbed pressure from multiple directions—foreign intervention, regional conflict, targeted killings of officials and scientists widely reported in international media and attributed in part to foreign intelligence operations, and decades of sanctions. Over time, it turned inward. External pressure did not create stability—it reinforced distrust.
That pattern is not unique.
Cuba has faced a U.S. embargo since 1960, with long-term economic damage documented by the United Nations.
Venezuela has been subject to escalating sanctions targeting its oil and financial sectors, contributing to economic decline, as outlined in U.S. government analyses.
North Korea has endured decades of sanctions and isolation tied to its weapons programs.
Syria has faced extensive sanctions alongside a devastating civil war, with massive economic loss documented by international institutions.
Across these cases, sanctions function as tools of aggression and coercion at a national scale.
The human cost is not theoretical. Research published in The Lancet Global Health and cited in policy discussions estimates that broad economic sanctions contribute to hundreds of thousands of deaths globally each year—largely borne by civilians.
The economic potential of these nations was shaped first by colonial histories, and in modern times further constrained by sustained external pressure, particularly from the United States.
So the following question is not rhetorical—it is necessary: Who, exactly, gets labeled the “bad” actor and by whom?
States harden under pressure. The United States did not develop by yielding—it expanded, consolidated power, and used force to do so. From the displacement of Native populations to modern interventions, the United States has consistently used force, coercion, and violence to shape outcomes.
That pattern has evolved into its current, most dangerous form—one that now affects the lives of billions around the world.
After Citizens United (2010), concentrated money gained greater influence over political direction, as widely analyzed by legal scholars and policy institutions. Under Trump, the shift became more visible—less restrained, more direct. The language hardened. The posture became openly and shamelessly transactional.
Legal Standard: War Crimes
Under international humanitarian law, including the Geneva Conventions, war crimes include:
- Intentional targeting of civilians
- Attacks on journalists not participating in hostilities
- Targeting humanitarian workers
- Indiscriminate attacks
- Destruction of civilian infrastructure without military necessity
These are established legal standards, reinforced by bodies such as the International Criminal Court.
These are not gray areas.
Japan
And since nuclear history is often used as a symbol of strength, it should be stated clearly.
The United States dropped atomic bombs on Hiroshima (August 6, 1945) and Nagasaki (August 9, 1945). By the end of that year, roughly 140,000 people in Hiroshima and 73,884 in Nagasaki were dead, figures widely accepted by historians. Many died instantly; others died slowly from injuries and radiation.
These are not abstractions. These are cities turned into mass graves.
The survivors—hibakusha—numbered about 280,000 by 1950. They carried lifelong effects: burns, radiation sickness, leukemia, cancer, and chronic illness, as documented by long-term research studies.
As for remorse, the U.S. has been deliberate in its language. In 2016, President Obama’s Hiroshima visit was explicitly not framed as an apology.
That distinction matters.
And decades later, that history is still used as political theater. On March 19, 2026, sitting beside Japanese Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi, Trump referenced Pearl Harbor to justify “surprise” U.S. actions.
Who knows better about surprise than Japan?”
Donald J Trump
He used historical trauma to score a political point at the expense of the visiting Prime Minister—reducing statecraft to pressure and performance, while belittling a visiting dignitary.
That was not diplomacy. It was invoking the deaths of thousands of Japanese civilians as a point of pride—bullying presented as leadership by the president of the United States.
That is not leadership. It is the use of provocation to control the the Japanese Prime Minister, the media and the narrative.
Diplomacy made complicated and unsafe.
When a country fuels or responds to violence with force while presenting itself as a mediator, that is not diplomacy—it is aggression and control.
Bullies rely on pressure. Conmen rely on deception. When both show up together, it’s the perfect storm.
