The Empire After Iran

Why a U.S. war on Iran looks like someone else’s agenda

There is a question that keeps surfacing the more Washington escalates against Iran, and it’s a question people are often trained to dismiss before they even finish asking it: why does this feel like Israel is calling the shots, and the United States is paying the bill?

I’m not presenting this as a confirmed fact. I’m presenting it as a pattern that produces a very uncomfortable impression, especially if you’ve watched American foreign policy long enough.

Because if you strip away the slogans and look at the geography, the economics, and the costs, a direct U.S. war against Iran makes very little sense on paper. Iran is not sitting on America’s border. It is not threatening American territory. It is not an existential danger to the U.S. state. And yet, the escalation rhythm has shifted—more deployments, more reinforcement, more pressure—especially after Netanyahu’s latest trip to Washington and the political choreography that followed it.

So you inevitably arrive at the core question: whose security is being prioritized, and whose interests are being served?

If we speak purely in military-industrial terms, the leverage should run in the opposite direction. Israel is a formidable military actor, but it does not have the industrial depth to sustain a long, high-intensity confrontation with Iran without massive resupply. In any scenario where things spiral beyond a short exchange, Israel’s endurance is measured in weeks, not years, and the only actor capable of building the “air bridge” of ammunition, spare parts, interceptors, and replenishment is the United States.

That reality would normally mean Washington holds the leverage. Yet what many people see is a reverse dynamic, where Washington behaves like the guarantor that cannot say no, even when the costs to American interests are obvious.

And when a superpower behaves as if it is trapped in an obligation, people start asking what sits behind the visible stage.

Not because people love conspiracy theories, but because the visible logic is insufficient.

This is where the Epstein dimension becomes politically combustible because it reminds the public of leverage through kompromat.

Is it possible that elements connected to Israel—or to the broader network of power that uses Israel as an instrument—possess compromising material that can be deployed against American officials to enforce compliance? It’s possible.

And here, we have to be precise: even if you believe Netanyahu is aggressive, ruthless, and ideologically maximalist, it still doesn’t mean Netanyahu is the “final” decision-maker. The more realistic reading is that Netanyahu operates as an executive operator, selling and implementing policies that align with larger structures: the Israel lobby ecosystem, the donor networks, the military-industrial machinery, the big-tech influence complex, and the financial class that benefits from permanent crisis management.

In other words, if someone tells you “this is just Netanyahu,” they are actually minimizing the architecture.

The easiest way to understand why this matters is to compare Iran to Iraq. Even at its weakest, Iran is not Iraq 2003. It is bigger, deeper, more organized, more geographically complex, and far more capable of retaliation through multiple vectors. The idea that the U.S. can “manage” a controlled war with Iran like a clean operation is a fantasy, because the entire region is wired for escalation and miscalculation.

And the most obvious point that should shut down the propaganda immediately is this: a war with Iran threatens the arteries of global energy and trade. The Strait of Hormuz is one of the central choke points of the global economy. A serious conflict, especially a weeks-long one, means insurance spikes, shipping chaos, supply chain instability, and energy price shock.

So when we’re told this is “for America,” we are entitled to ask: for which America? The public that pays at the pump and absorbs inflation? Or the America of certain industries, certain financial interests, certain crisis-profiteering sectors that don’t experience war the way ordinary people do?

Because if a war sends fuel prices into the stratosphere, if it shakes global markets, if it triggers a broad energy shock, it is difficult to argue this serves the well-being of American society.

This is where speculation becomes unavoidable, because the question starts to shift from geopolitics to political economy. If such a war is irrational as a national security move, could it be rational as a system-management move?

A major Middle East war is one of the few shocks large enough to justify extraordinary economic measures, such as emergency powers, market interventions, accelerated financial restructuring, and the kind of crisis narrative that can make populations accept policies they would otherwise reject.

And yes, some people will roll their eyes when you say the words “reset” or when you connect war to the long-term push toward cashless systems and central bank digital currencies. But the premise is not mystical. It is simply that large crises are historically used to restructure systems, and the U.S. debt structure is not a secret.

So the question becomes: if the American state is weighed down by obligations it cannot resolve cleanly, do certain actors see a major war as a gateway to financial transformation under the cover of emergency?

Again: I’m not claiming this is the plan. I’m saying it is the kind of question that becomes rational to ask when the official story fails to explain why a superpower behaves against its obvious interests.

So, if it’s not America’s interest, what is it?

At minimum, the immediate strategic benefit of a U.S.-Iran war is not “protecting America.” It is hardening Israel’s regional posture, attempting to strip Iran of deterrence capacity, and enforcing a new order where the only acceptable Iran is an Iran that is reduced to a managed state rather than an independent strategic actor.

That is why the escalation feels darker now because the logic resembles coercion for structural submission.

And if that is the goal, then the Epstein moment matters because it reminds everyone that empires do not rely only on arguments. They rely on pressure, blackmail, patronage networks, and elite discipline. And when you see the discipline kicking in, you are allowed to wonder what enforces it.

So, I will end where I began: if war with Iran would cost America billions—perhaps trillions—destabilize the Middle East again, disrupt global trade routes, and trigger an energy shock that punishes ordinary people, then it is reasonable to ask why Washington is moving in that direction at all.

If the leverage should run from Washington to Tel Aviv, why does it feel inverted?
If Iran is not a direct threat to American territory, why is the U.S. acting as if it must fight? And if the answer is “because Israel,” then the next question is even more serious: what mechanisms exist that can bend American policy into that shape, even when it defies American interest?

Maybe the answer is lobbying, ideology, donor capture, and institutional inertia. Maybe it is something uglier that thrives in the dark corridors behind the stage.

But pretending the question is illegitimate is no longer an argument. It’s an instruction to stop thinking precisely when thinking is most needed.

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—Kevork Almassian is a Syrian geopolitical analyst and the founder of Syriana Analysis.