By Mike Nelson
Wednesday, May 27, 2026
If Ulysses Everett McGill were asked to describe
President Donald Trump’s current situation with Iran, he might exclaim, “Damn, he’s
in a tight spot!” Almost three months into the conflict that he initiated sua
sponte, Trump finds himself in a sticky situation. He doesn’t want
conditions to remain as they are, with a mutually imposed blockade of the
Strait of Hormuz. Whatever advantage has come from stressing the already
fragile Iranian economy also comes with the cost of increasing energy prices
around the globe. The second-order impacts of these costs will only get worse
as the price of moving goods is passed on to consumers.
Trump was already facing concerns about affordability
before the war, and those concerns are now growing while his approval rating is
declining. He doesn’t want to be weighed down by a continued face-off over the
strait. And he doesn’t want to restart the combat operations that have been on
pause for a month and a half—operations that he naively believed would quickly
bring the Iranian regime to its knees with no cost to the United States.
Instead, they have depleted large quantities of some of our most critical
capabilities, resulted in hundreds of American casualties, destroyed American
aircraft and military infrastructure in the region, and caused pushback from
Gulf Arab allies who have been targeted for Iranian retaliation—while not
bringing about any signs of Iranian surrender.
Over the weekend, reports of a negotiated settlement
between the United States and Iran met with a chorus of disapproval for being too generous toward the
regime. The settlement is not yet finalized, nor have the details been
announced, but if even a small portion of what was reported appears in the
final version—including Iranian retention of their enriched uranium, a system
of tolling an international waterway, or a financial windfall with which the
regime can fund their proxies—we can expect an even more acrimonious reception,
including from several voices who had previously been reliable Trump
supporters.
So here we are, with a president who can’t stay where he
is, can’t move forward, and can’t step backward, mired in the quicksand of a
poorly managed confrontation. A president who ran a campaign in which he said
each problem facing the United States had a simple solution that he alone could
provide, now finds himself alone with no good options.
This dilemma is one of his own making. Not just the
decision to go to war without a full understanding of the costs, risks, goals,
and complications—Trump undoubtedly did that, and it’s been written about in
great detail. But also the fact that he is alone—without political support in
government, without allies, and without the will of the people in prosecuting
this war, or at least navigating his way out of it.
While Trump may be surprised and frustrated by where the
path of unilateral decision-making has led him, his sojourn down it is entirely
predictable. He is absolutely enamored by the authority of his office, reveling
in the decisions he’s empowered to make without outside input. In just the first
year of his second term, he has issued more executive orders than any other
president in an entire single term since Carter, and he has amassed more than
10 times the pardons and commutations than he did in his full first term
(admittedly, the mass pardoning of the January 6 rioters and get-out-jail-free
cards to finance and crypto scammers who have dealings with the Trump family runs up the score).
But the president hasn’t been satisfied to merely abuse
the unilateral power of his position. He has also sought to extend his reach
beyond the boundaries of the Oval Office and assume authority that isn’t his.
The Supreme Court ruled his attempt to implement widespread tariffs were an
unconstitutional attempt to usurp authority assigned to Congress. Hundreds of
federal judges have shot down thousands of specious claims about the administration’s
authority to deny civil liberties and due process protections as part of its
immigration enforcement.
Trump’s disregard for collaboration and consensus has
extended past domestic policy and legal matters to beyond the water’s edge. Not
only has the president suggested he would withdraw or fail to meet the
obligations of treaties ratified by Congress, he has thumbed his nose at
Congress’ role in matters of war and peace. The administration didn’t even
notify the Gang of 8 before removing Nicolás Maduro from power in Venezuela,
and the White House’s approach to dealing with the (as of yet untested in court)
timelines of the War Powers Act is to either ignore them outright or play
clever word games as to whether a “ceasefire” where both combatants still shoot
at each other pauses the stopwatch. Both Operation Southern Spear in the
Caribbean Sea and the conflict with Iran have extended past these timelines
without a vote from Congress authorizing them.
Whether Trump is unaware of or unconcerned with the
constraints on his power is largely academic—he does not abide by them
regardless of the cause. A man with neither the curiosity to learn about the
constitutional processes of the government he leads nor the patience to work
through them if he had, has been emboldened by a pliant Republican-led
Congress, more concerned with being sufficiently obsequious than in fulfilling
its duty to provide checks and balances between branches of government.
But the comfort level the president has developed, the
enabling he has received, and the momentum he has created with this style of
decision-making have served him poorly, leading to the situation in which he
now finds himself. The administration’s decision not to put the war to a vote
means the burden and the blame for stalled progress, regional instability, and
American losses rests solely on the president’s shoulders. Not only did he fail
to create a political coalition that shared the decision and responsibility to
go to war, he is starting to see defections as once supportive Republicans
cross the aisle and vote for war powers bills designed to force an end to the
conflict.
Perhaps most damning, Trump never made the case to the
American people. The will and passion of the people are essential to continued
effort in any war, especially when wars face inevitable setbacks and require
reassessment of the strategy (a truth written about by Von Clausewitz and
studied at the war colleges that Secretary Pete Hegseth rails against as too
woke). The fact that the president’s model prior to ordering Epic Fury—the
Maduro raid—was not a full campaign and was over before it was publicly disclosed
seems to have inspired Trump to believe he never needed buy-in from the public.
Any president has a limited amount of political capital
to expend and a finite amount of focus they can command when using their bully
pulpit. It would seem odd, therefore, under normal circumstances, that this
president has spoken with more frequency, greater specificity, and deeper
passion when trying to make a case to the American people for a ballroom than
the war in which we are entangled. The fact that the president is far more
animated and informed about his pet beautification projects might just suggest
the seriousness, or lack thereof, with which he is taking war—the most serious
undertaking into which a president can enter.
Insomuch as he does speak to the American people about
the war at all, his argument can be summarized as, “Other wars were longer, why
are you complaining?” Hardly a rallying cry.
But perhaps the greatest burr in the president’s saddle
are the allies he spent years saying we don’t need, suggesting their previous
wartime contributions were worthy of mockery, or whose territory he threatens
to annex (even the weekend’s negotiations with Iran, so taxing that he could
not attend his son’s wedding, didn’t stop the president from taking his eye off
the ball of aggravating the tensions over Greenland). Building
coalitions with annoying Europeans is beneath him, and listening to or
addressing the concerns and input of the allies during the planning process
would have been a frustrating timesuck for someone whose impulsivity and desire
to implement orders make Veruca
Salt look like she has the patience of a saint. Now, because of his own
disregard for international coalitions in the march to war, he finds himself
demanding support from one he does not have, lashing out and venting his rage
via social media posts and through wildly fluctuating decisions
about military presence in Europe.
The Europeans were not the only American partners who
were not consulted before the war. The Arab Gulf states, which have paid the cost of Iranian
reaction in lives and destroyed infrastructure, have expressed objection to the
handling of the war in their backyard, to the point that they have rallied
together to pressure and attempt to limit some of Trump’s options,
lessening further the wiggle room available to squeeze out of this mess.
That the president thought so little of needing consensus
from others on the war is evidenced by the fact that he initiated it with a
middle-of-the-night social media post—providing less focus and fanfare than a
Friday afternoon news dump. But now, three months on, Trump finds himself
paying the delayed costs of his approach, with no shared skin in the game from
Congress, cratering public sentiment for a war that began with underwater
polling, European allies sitting on the sidelines, and Gulf partners voicing
opposition to some of his options. Had he sought a consensus, he would likely
have a wider range of options and a longer time horizon to deal with the
conflict.
The lesson with which Donald Trump is now contending (but
not learning) is that the freedom of going it alone when it comes to
decision-making brings with it the burdens and consequences of going it alone
when things go poorly. The man who loves to take sole credit for any positive
outcome and pass blame for any negative one now finds himself flailing as he
tries to make the fault for his current dilemma stick elsewhere. But his usual
playbook hasn’t shifted the polls, hasn’t brought down inflation, and has not
compelled the Iranians to concede.
The words he once belted out at his rallies to adoring
crowds, his campaign boast—“I alone” —these words now take on new meaning, as
he alone is left with the consequences and complications of a situation he
never had the focus in understanding, nor the patience to prepare for any
contingency other than the most optimistic, and unrealistic, result. And now he
must navigate a way out—and deal with the consequences—alone.
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