How Trump’s War With Iran Would Be Different

The largest concentration of U.S. military might in 20 years is massed in the Middle East. The Washington rumor-mill says strikes against Iran may be days away. Armed conflict, if it comes, would raise the most serious of questions: What life-and-death matters justify the potential cost of lives and treasure?

If a president’s most weighty task is to decide when and how to commit American forces, it is part of that task to explain to the citizenry why that step is being taken.

The conduct of President Donald Trump and his administration has left many asking: “If we go to war: Why?” Officials have offered a range of explanations — and possible tactics — that suggest everything from trying to pressure Iran to reach a nuclear agreement to pursuing an end to the Khamenei regime. Perhaps Trump will use his State of the Union address to make a comprehensive case for war, but so far, he has shown little interest in doing so. It is an approach that stands in sharp contrast to how other presidents have, for better or worse, braced the nation for conflict. And the distinction may matter.

Consider three very different cases.

For Franklin D. Roosevelt, the challenge was to convince a public with deep isolationist instincts that Adolf Hitler’s sweep through Europe required an American response. He proceeded carefully. From the time World War II began in the fall of 1939 until the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941, FDR was constantly looking for ways to aid of Britain — under relentless German bombing — and to prepare the United States for war. When Britain began running out of money to buy weaponry, he deployed a “lend-lease” program that enabled material to be “loaned” at no cost to Britain. FDR explained this program in typically vivid terms, arguing that if your neighbor’s house was on fire, you’d surely lend him your garden hose. Roosevelt also launched the first peacetime draft in American history in 1940.

At the same time, FDR was assuring voters as he sought a third term that “I shall say it again and again and again — your boys will not be sent into any foreign wars.” That promise reflected the political balancing act that Roosevelt had to execute until the attack on Pearl Harbor, which shifted public opinion massively and sent the U.S. into full-scale into combat. He was preparing for war while highlighting his reluctance to launch one — an approach that kept the public’s trust and positioned him well when the U.S. ultimately did enter the war.

For Lyndon B. Johnson, South Vietnam was a dilemma inherited from John F. Kennedy, who had put some 16,000 “advisers” into that country. Most of LBJ’s own advisers were convinced that only a serious commitment of troops could prevent a takeover by the Communist north and local guerrilla forces. But Johnson was running for a full term in 1964 as a peace candidate against Barry Goldwater, who was calling for escalation. When two American ships were — or more likely were not — attacked in the Gulf of Tonkin, Johnson used this incident to flex American muscle. He launched limited bombing runs and — more significantly — got Congress to approve a resolution giving the president power to “take all necessary measures to repel any armed attack against the forces of the United States and to prevent further aggression.”

It was this broadly worded resolution that Johnson repeatedly cited as authorization to escalate the war, with regular bombings of the North and the introduction of combat forces in the spring of 1965. As the war expanded, so did the reasons offered for it. In July 1965, as LBJ announced the deployment of 50,000 more troops to Vietnam, he offered two arguments for the commitment: first, that leaving would “dishonor “the United States by abandoning the commitment of three presidents; second, that if South Vietnam fell, it would “extend the Asiatic dominion of Communism.” It was this so-called “domino theory” that provided a key administration argument as the death toll rose and opposition to the war grew. The public grew tired of the argument eventually, but it was potent at first.

As for George W. Bush, he can argue that no administration provided a more focused, consistent case for war than his did in its drive against Iraq. The president put it this way in the fall of 2002: “It possesses and produces chemical and biological weapons. It is seeking nuclear weapons.” And, Bush added, “we cannot wait for the final proof — the smoking gun — that could come in the form of a mushroom cloud.”

It was the same argument that Secretary of State Colin Powell used when speaking at the United Nations: “Saddam Hussein and his regime are concealing their efforts to produce more weapons of mass destruction. ... Every statement I make today is backed up by sources, solid sources. These are not assertions. What we’re giving you are facts and conclusions based on solid intelligence.” (Of course, the intelligence was not solid, and Powell later disowned the speech, calling it a “blot” on his record.”)

Bush officials also argued that bringing down Hussein would open up the promise of a new, democratic Middle East, but the supposed WMD threat was the main argument. And it was enough to persuade Congress to authorize Bush’s use of force — a resolution passed with bipartisan support. The war was also popular with the public at the outset. Support would only erode as Iraq slipped into chaos and those weapons of mass destruction proved not to exist.

And now? Trump’s special envoy Steve Witkoff is warning that Iran may be a week away from weapons-grade uranium (despite the fact that Trump announced last June that air strikes had “obliterated” Iran’s nuclear facilities). Trump himself last month announced a “red line” that Iran would cross if it began killing protestors. So is the slaughter of thousands of Iranians reason for war? If Iran agrees to curbs on its nuclear activities, but not its ballistic weaponry, will that be a persuasive reason for conflict? And conflict to what end — forcing Iran to an agreement or unseating the mullahs? Trump has not said.

As history demonstrates, there’s no guarantee that the justifications offered for war will stand the test of time. The political ramifications are not always tidy either. Roosevelt, Johnson and Bush all sought to build support before launching their wars, and they were initially rewarded with backing from the public and Congress. But when the war effort struggled — particularly if the case for war collapsed as in Iraq or Vietnam — then people soured on them. Even Roosevelt saw his party suffer in the 1942 midterms amid rationing and sacrifice at home during World War II.

Perhaps Trump thinks any war with Iran will be a quick success, and so the public will go along. But such a risk goes beyond merely politics. When presidents make this kind of life and death decision, they have the obligation to answer “Why?”