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The United States Is Still Addicted to War
Why every U.S. president ends up in a major military campaign.
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Stephen M. Walt
By Stephen M. Walt, a columnist at Foreign Policy and the Robert and Renée Belfer professor of international relations at Harvard University.
President Donald Trump observes naval flight demonstrations on the deck of the USS George H.W. Bush aircraft carrier on October 5, 2025 off the eastern coast of the United States. Alex Wong/Getty Images
March 2, 2026, 2:42 AM
No matter what they say, American presidents find it impossible not to go to war. Back in 1992, Bill Clinton won the presidency by saying “it’s the economy, stupid,” and declaring the era of power politics to be over. Once in office, however, he found himself ordering missile strikes in several countries, maintaining no-fly zones over Iraq (and sometimes bombing it), and waging a long aerial campaign against Serbia in 1999.
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In 2000, George W. Bush captured the White House by criticizing Clinton’s overactive foreign policy and promising voters a foreign policy that was strong but “humble.” We all know how that turned out. Eight years later, a young senator named Barack Obama became president in good part because he was one of the few Democrats who had opposed the invasion of Iraq in 2003. Within a year of assuming office, he had a Nobel Peace Prize he had done nothing to earn, simply because people believed he’d be a committed peacemaker. Obama did try on several issues and eventually reached an agreement scaling back Iran’s nuclear program, but he also ordered a pointless “surge” in Afghanistan, helped topple the Libyan regime in 2011, and grew increasingly comfortable ordering signature strikes and other targeted killings against an array of targets. As his second term ended, the U.S. was still fighting in Afghanistan and no closer to victory.
Then a mediocre businessman and reality TV star named Donald Trump ran for president in 2016, openly condemning the “forever wars,” denouncing the foreign-policy establishment, and vowing to put “America First.” After an unexpected electoral victory, he, too, announced a temporary troop surge in Afghanistan, kept the global war on terror going full-speed, ordered the assassination by missile of a top Iranian official, and presided over steady increases in the military budget. Trump didn’t start any new wars during his first term, but he didn’t end any, either.
Joe Biden did end a war when he pulled the plug on America’s futile U.S. campaign in Afghanistan, and he got pummeled for recognizing the reality his predecessors had ignored. Biden did orchestrate a vigorous Western response to Russia’s illegal invasion of Ukraine in 2022, but most observers ignored how his earlier efforts to bring Ukraine within the Western orbit had made war more likely. Having ignored the Palestinian issue during his first two years as president, Biden provided the billions of dollars’ worth of weapons and diplomatic protection for Israel’s genocidal response to Hamas’s attack on Israel in October 2023.
Biden’s errors (and his stubborn insistence on trying to win a second term) helped Trump to return to the Oval Office, once again pledging to be a peace president and to end the incessant interventionism that has cost Americans trillions of dollars and thousands of lives. But instead of making a sharp break with the past, Trump 2.0 turned out to be even more trigger-happy than the presidents he used to mock. The United States has bombed at least seven countries in his first year back in office, is energetically killing boat crews in the Caribbean and Pacific on the mere suspicion that they might be shipping drugs, has kidnapped the leader of Venezuela in order to take control of the country’s oil (while leaving the country in the hands of a new dictator), and has now launched his second war against Iran in less than a year. Having told the world that Iran’s nuclear infrastructure had been “obliterated” last summer, he now says the U.S. had to bomb it to stop “imminent threats.”
What’s going on here? Since 1992, a series of presidents representing both parties have run for office vowing to be peacemakers and to avoid their predecessors’ excesses and mistakes, yet once in office they cannot resist the urge to blow stuff up in faraway lands. Once again, we must ask ourselves the question: Is the United States addicted to war?
Until Trump’s second term, one might explain this pattern by examining the hubristic mindset of the bipartisan foreign-policy “Blob,” which saw military force as a useful tool for advancing a global liberal order. But that explanation has trouble explaining Trump’s actions during his second term. Trump still loathes the establishment (aka, the “deep state”), blames it for the failures of his first term, has gutted the national security bureaucracy, and appointed a lot of loyal lackeys who will do his bidding to key positions. This latest war can’t be blamed on the Blob.
Defenders of these policies might argue that the United States has unique global responsibilities, and although presidents may come into office with a lot of idealistic notions about using force less often, they soon get schooled in the need to use American power all over the world. The problem with this explanation is that blowing things up with such frequency rarely solves the underlying political problems, doesn’t make the U.S. safer, and certainly isn’t good for most of the countries we’ve been pummeling. Even a country as slow to learn as the United States should have learned this by now. So the puzzle remains: Why does Washington keep doing these things, even under a president who would dearly love to win a real peace prize (and not just the phony one he got from FIFA)?
One obvious reason is the long-term consolidation of executive power that has been underway since the early Cold War and expanded even more during the war on terror. We have granted presidents enormous latitude over decisions for war and peace, the conduct of diplomacy, the activities of a vast intelligence apparatus and covert action capability, and tolerated a degree of secrecy that makes it easier for the executive branch to lie when it needs to. Presidents from both parties have been all too happy to accept this freedom of action and rarely welcomed efforts to trim their powers. The consolidation of executive power has been aided and abetted by Congress, which has become decreasingly willing to exercise any meaningful oversight over decisions to use force. Thus, when the Obama administration actively sought a new authorization to use force (to replace the outdated resolutions that had authorized the war on terror and invasion of Iraq), Congress refused to provide one because its members didn’t want to go on the record. And now they complain that the Trump administration didn’t ask their permission before it decided to start another pointless war on Iran.
Second, as Sarah Kreps and Rosella Zielinski have both shown, American presidents are free to go to war because they have learned not to ask the American people to pay for it in real time. Korea was the last war that we directly raised taxes to pay for; since then, presidents have just borrowed the money, let the deficit grow some more, and stuck future generations with the bill. The result is that most Americans don’t feel the economic consequences of even long and costly campaigns like the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, which cost at least $5 trillion.
The all-volunteer force also facilitates decisions for war, because the people sent into harm’s way all signed up for this possibility and are less likely to complain than random draftees might be. It also allows elites like Trump (and his children) to evade service entirely, thereby reducing the extent to which the wealthy and politically connected feel personally affected by these decisions and gradually turning the professional military into a separate caste that is less connected to the broader society it is supposed to defend. But don’t blame the military for these recurring decisions to use force; it is the civilians who are driving this train.
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You can, however, blame the military-industrial complex. Please note: I’m not saying Lockheed Martin or Boeing lobbied for war with anyone, but when you are in the business of selling weapons, you are also in the business of selling insecurity. And that means portraying a world that is brimming with threats (some of which might need to be preempted), where diplomacy is devalued, and kinetic solutions are oversold. It is no accident that defense firms are prominent supporters of many foreign-policy think tanks, which often work to convince Americans that threats are lurking everywhere, that the United States might have to take military action against them no matter where on the planet they are occurring, and that bigger defense budgets are the obvious remedy. Once you’ve bought all those capabilities, it can be hard to resist the temptation to use them. There will also be special interest groups like AIPAC and the hawkish parts of the Israel lobby that will sometimes succeed in persuading presidents to go along and convince vulnerable congressional leaders not to object.
There’s a final reason American presidents have become addicted to war: The use of force has become too easy and seemingly risk-free. Cruise missiles, stealthy aircraft, precision-guided bombs, and drones have made it possible for the United States (and a few other countries) to wage massive air campaigns without having to put boots on the ground and without worrying very much about direct retaliation (at least initially). Iran may hit back at the United States or its allies in various ways, but it cannot hope to inflict the same level of damage on U.S. soil that Washington can inflict on it. When facing a vexing foreign-policy challenge, therefore, or when looking for a way to distract citizens from domestic problems or scandals (Jeffrey Epstein, anyone?), it can be immensely tempting to reach for the military option. Or as Sen. Richard Russell—who was no dove—put it back in the 1960s, “There is reason to think that if it is easy for us to go anywhere and do anything, we will always be going somewhere and doing something.”
I sometimes think of this as the problem of the “big red button.” It is as if every president has a big red button on his desk, and when foreign-policy troubles arise (or when a distraction is needed), his aides come to the Oval Office and describe the problem. They point out that pushing the button will show resolve and that he’s doing something, and might produce a positive result. If they are honest, they may acknowledge that there’s no absolute necessity to push the button and that doing so might make things worse. But the risks are small, they will remind him, the costs are affordable, and if you don’t push the button, the problem could almost certainly get worse, and you will look indecisive. They close the briefing by intoning solemnly: “It’s your choice, Mr. President.” It would take leaders with better judgment than most recent presidents to resist such blandishments consistently.
To be clear, this latest orgy of violence is the least necessary shedding of blood by the U.S. military since the invasion of Iraq in 2003. But what it says about America’s addiction to war is at least as important as what it tells us about America’s current president.
Wasn’t the bone spurs thing a way to get out of being drafted? Trump himself wouldn’t apply to the all-volunteer force aspect, then, right?
This post is part of FP’s ongoing coverage. Read more here.
Stephen M. Walt is a columnist at Foreign Policy and the Robert and Renée Belfer professor of international relations at Harvard University. Bluesky: @stephenwalt.bsky.social X: @stephenwalt
