Tuesday, September 1, 2026

The Illusion of One Voice in Wartime

By Seth Cropsey

Tuesday, September 01, 2026

 

As the Iran war drags into its sixth month without a clear pathway to resolution, one could forgive chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff General Dan “Raizin” Caine for making a clear policy intervention. Yet it is remarkable that military professionals and the general public do not recognize this intervention as such. Equally remarkable is the process of intervention — specifically the lack of countervailing military advice.

 

Six months without a serious policy choice should indicate to any policymaker or military officer that the American policy system has failed. The question is why. The standard answer, in which there is some truth, is to blame the lack of an interagency process. But the deeper issue during a war is necessarily that of military planning. The legacy of the Goldwater–Nichols Act of 1986 has made it nearly impossible for the president to receive a coherent menu of policy options in a conflict rather than the idealized end of policy advice. The result is an increasingly militarized policy process. This is a problematic but manageable issue against Iran, considering the United States’ relative advantages. Against a first-rate adversary, however, this is a mortal weakness.

 

China will learn the limitations of America’s policymaking system rapidly following this Middle Eastern adventure. The more rigid American policymaking becomes — and the more a constrained military advice system is reinforced — the more likely it is that China will present the United States, under this administration or the next, with a series of options that encourage capitulation.

 

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The Iran war’s frenetic veering between talks and strikes since early April is an indication of a policy process that has fundamentally stalled. This stalling is not primarily a civilian problem. It is a military one.

 

A series of leaks and off-the-record comments suggest that the choice for war with Iran was a decision made by an executive with limited strategic discipline. The underlying motivation was, admittedly, sound enough. Iran had suffered extreme damage to its nuclear and missile programs during the Twelve-Day War, in no small part because President Donald Trump authorized Operation Midnight Hammer against Iran’s key nuclear facilities. Iran has been locked in an inflationary spiral for years, which has caused rising domestic discontent against the regime. This discontent exploded in early January with large-scale protests that threatened state integrity. The United States may well have acted then, executing a more limited series of strikes with long-range airpower against core regime targets while waiting for assets to move from Venezuela to the Middle East for the full conflict to begin. Instead, it chose to wait and build up an enormous force package in the region, including multiple carrier strike groups, fixed-wing aviation supported by a transatlantic tanker bridge, and long-range strike aircraft ultimately launched from the U.K.

 

Israel may well have exaggerated the Iranian regime’s instability. More likely, the Israelis oversold to themselves — and by extension to the Americans — their ability to topple the Iranian regime without “boots on the ground.” And this was likely possible, but only until January. After that point, Iranian reprisals against identified and suspected Israeli agents made it increasingly difficult for the Mossad to coordinate operations across the country. Indeed, the majority of Mossad case officers working the Iran file were seldom actually in Iran, instead handling assets remotely after building yearslong relationships online and training them in third countries. This covert action apparatus was clearly effective enough to stress the Islamic Republic. Otherwise, Iran would not have executed more than 30,000 of its own citizens. But after the January protests were suppressed, such covert action was severely curtailed.

 

This explains the American policy debate in run-up to the war. Secretary of State and national security adviser Marco Rubio, alongside CIA Director John Ratcliffe, were vocal skeptics of the Israeli plan, which involved leveraging remaining in-country assets and enabling a Kurdish ground offensive. However, Rubio and Ratcliffe endorsed a more tailored operation to cripple Iran’s drone production and broader military-industrial base.

 

Critics of the administration have blamed it for not sticking to this plan; particularly for broadening its objectives and killing Iran’s top leadership, including Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei. However, even the plan’s original scale and objectives, namely the elimination of Iran’s ballistic missile and drone program alongside more extensive damage to its nuclear capabilities, required the paralysis of the Iranian regime. This demanded some attempt at decapitation, and Iran’s top leadership echelon offered a prime opportunity. The more fundamental issue, by contrast, was President Trump’s strategic slippage. The public record indicates that he could not select between objectives — the destruction of the Iranian regime or the more proximate damage that could be caused to its military capabilities. Hence the United States pursued the latter while its rhetoric reflected the former.

 

This issue became acute once Iran established a choke hold over the Strait of Hormuz. Iran added a third strategic variable into the situation, a third potential objective for the U.S. The confirmed degradation of Iranian offensive capabilities mattered little alongside the optics at the strait. President Trump, however, was unwilling to pay the price to reopen the strait for fear of casualties. (Such an effort would have involved either a concerted air campaign and a light ground force deployment, or an attempted escort mission through the strait, or most likely both.) Hence the negotiation process, which had begun in early April, continued intermittently for the next five months.

 

The first six weeks of the war can be blamed on presidential indecision, exacerbated by a timid policy process. The subsequent five months cannot.

 

President Trump has presented time and again his strategic parameters. He has no desire to capitulate to Iranian demands, which include de facto Iranian control over a crucial global waterway and the release of all Iranian frozen assets. Nor does he have the desire to escalate, thereby risking Gulf State oil infrastructure and triggering a global economic catastrophe that would have direct ramifications for his own political position. (The latter is evidently beyond the purview of a military officer, but it is relevant to the president and therefore must be taken into account when crafting policy.) The result, after halting negotiations and a framework for a deal that fell apart soon after it was signed, were intermittent strikes on Iranian coastal installations. It is worth dwelling on the decision-making process that led President Trump to call off a much more expansive series of strikes, for it reveals the deeper problem of civil-military relations in the United States.

 

Since early April, there have been three options available to the United States to pressure Iran. They are not mutually exclusive, but each has a different emphasis. Option one has been the blockade on Iranian oil exports, belatedly implemented after the U.S.-Iran “cease-fire” began. This would undermine the Iranian economy, but it’d takes time. Iran is certainly feeling economic pressure but has built a shadow economy to survive it. Such an economic strategy would therefore require patience. Option two includes a resumption of the countrywide air campaign to neutralize remaining Iranian missiles and drones. The focus of this campaign would be on the coast, but it would necessarily include nationwide pressure to suppress Iran’s remaining longer-range ballistic missiles that can be launched from the country’s interior. Option three involves hitting regime infrastructure to raise the cost of resistance, whether this includes transportation facilities or energy storage.

 

In this debate, policy advice from the Pentagon has largely been absent. This extends the relationship that the Biden administration established between policy and civilian defense officials, by which the largely politically ineffectual Lloyd Austin had been supplanted by chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff General Mark Milley. Indeed, the void left by an absent defense policy establishment will eventually be filled one way or another.

 

Nor is the answer to these questions obvious. Escalation carries all the risks of broader war that President Trump seeks to avoid, but letting the conflict drag on makes it an unresolved strategic canker sore. The president deserves to be offered a menu of policy options, including the full explication of trade-offs that each option entails. President Trump has gotten none. Implicitly, the military has been making policy.

 

General Caine has injected himself into this debate, arguing vociferously against U.S. Central Command’s Admiral Brad Cooper, who advocated resuming the bombing campaign for around two weeks. Caine referenced depleted stockpiles and the risks that resumed fighting posed to deterrence in Asia. First, however, the stockpiles in question, according what has been leaked to the public, were either irrelevant for a contingency in Asia or were depleted long before the 2025 or 2026 Iran operations. Trump responds well to imagery, so Caine might have selected this argument not on strategic merits but on psychological ones. Second, Caine’s objection to Cooper’s strategy sailed through absent much of a fight. Cooper, who is running the war but is isolated at CENTCOM, was incapable of pressing a different course of action. Caine, as the chairman of the Joint Chiefs, is proximate to the president and could advance his preferred alternative.

 

Caine is unmistakably offering policy advice rather than a simple evaluation of military reality. His line of argument has a specific set of political implications — either maintain the blockade with Iran or negotiate an exit. The latter aligns with the preferences of other civilian leaders in the Trump administration, including undersecretary of defense for policy Elbridge Colby, a noted “restrainer” who prioritizes China. The point is not to evaluate whether Caine’s policy preferences are correct. There is a strong argument for them, as distasteful as the president might find them, much as the consequences of Cooper’s proposed military course of action must have given President Trump immediate pause. However, we must recognize that Caine’s policy intervention carries serious implications for the future of American strategy.

 

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Caine’s intervention was possible because of the structures that the Goldwater–Nichols Act has imposed on the U.S. military. Specifically, it has narrowed the sources of professional military advice that the president may receive absent concerted effort, thereby also narrowing the options the president is presented with during a crisis. But the military’s job is to provide these options, not to select among them.

 

Goldwater–Nichols was, according to the congressional staffers who drafted the legislation’s language, the outgrowth of Operations Eagle Claw and Urgent Fury. The former, the attempted rescue of American hostages in Iran, catastrophically failed. But this failure was largely due to extreme secrecy (the late General Robert Barrow, then the commandant of the U.S. Marine Corps, was not told the purpose of the Marine helicopters requested by the mission planners) and planning errors. Had one service been responsible for planning and execution, the operation may have been conceived radically differently. Moreover, joint planning and joint execution have little to do with a poor concept and shoddy implementation. The U.S. invasion of Grenada, which the latter describes, was plagued by interservice coordination issues, but these were mostly issues about hardware. For instance, the lack of a shared communications system between the Army and Navy made Naval Gunfire Support extremely difficult to coordinate. Such problems could be fixed through acquisition changes, not a new command structure.

 

Nonetheless, Goldwater–Nichols attempted to solve the problem of military failure with extensive bureaucracy. The most obvious result was the gross reduction in relevance of the service chiefs and service secretaries and the elevation of the combatant commanders. The former were reduced to bureaucratic holding commands. The latter became the center of action, with ambitious officers offered promotion incentives to serve on combatant-command staffs and the Joint Staff rather than with the services, where they could exercise and hone their operational skill. Combatant commanders, at least in times of low-intensity large-scale land wars, became proconsuls.

 

Even more pernicious has been the growth in power of the chairman of the Joint Chiefs and the Joint Staff, which functionally replicates the duties of the State Department and much of the civilian Defense Department. It has enmeshed itself in every regional and thematic issue imaginable. It is capable of running the Pentagon without civilian input at all if necessary. It has arguably done so for the better part of two administrations.

 

This structure is possible only because the concentration of talent in the Joint Staff parallels that in the combatant commands, to the detriment of the services. The incentive structure is obvious. The chairman of the Joint Chiefs is the president’s sole legal source of military advice. The president has the right to seek additional opinions, but there is no structured mechanism for him to do so. Hence the ambitious officer is far better served in combatant commands or Joint Staff billets than any billet directly relating to the services — unless he aspires to manage a complex acquisition program for a few years, after which his work will be summarily lambasted and transformed.

 

The Iran war demonstrates the remarkable second-order effect of Goldwater–Nichols. Not only are the services largely irrelevant compared with the combatant commands, but the combatant commands themselves are increasingly in the shadow of the chairman of the Joint Chiefs. This is likely a natural structural evolution. Combatant-command relevance grew out of the Cold War’s bipolar global competition and was sustained by bureaucratic inertia in the 1990s and 2000s, despite years of pervasive War on Terror–linked combat. Trade-offs in force management were less relevant than actual operational command. The talent shift was obvious. Officers such as the hard-charging Tommy Franks, the warrior-intellectual David Petraeus, and the warrior-monk James Mattis went to combatant commands, typically CENTCOM.

 

This began to change in the mid-2010s. The budget cuts under sequestration wiped out a decade of post–War on Terror modernization funding. And the growing assertiveness of Russia and China compelled the Pentagon to reconsider major-power rivalry. The chairman of the Joint Chiefs is the secretary of defense’s adviser on global force management, giving him leverage over global resource allocation. First Joseph Dunford, then Milley, and now Caine have embraced this role. Their proximity to the president — particularly the mercurial Trump — has made them especially politically relevant.

 

As a result, the chairman can shut out any pieces of military advice he doesn’t like. When Admiral Cooper passed his memorandum to the White House, Caine could in all likelihood control the debate around it and shape executive decision-making. Absent Goldwater–Nichols, Cooper would have a recourse. His naval superior, for example, Chief of Naval Operations Admiral Daryl Caudle, would have direct access to the president and the National Security Council. Whether the chief of naval operations would agree with a combatant commander on any specific issue is unknowable — and Goldwater–Nichols has created significant incentives against assertive service chiefs, meaning that perhaps they would fall in line — but at least there would be a process for different military opinions to be aired.

 

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The Iran war’s outcome remains in doubt, but the United States still has inherent advantages. Despite the economic pressure Iran can apply, the U.S. remains in an excellent medium-term energy position. Paradoxically, the more Iran disrupts global energy supply, the more viable it becomes for American firms to expand production domestically, and the more leverage the U.S. gains over global oil and gas production. In turn, Iran must tread carefully in the Gulf, lest pressure on the U.S. and its Middle Eastern allies trigger a severely punishing reaction from the Trump administration. So long as Washington does not simply capitulate, this is a contest of attrition, and Iran has fewer long-term options than the United States. The dangers of military intervention in policymaking might therefore not be acutely felt in the current conflict. They would be significantly magnified in the event of a U.S.-China confrontation that involves the risk of large-scale war.

 

China’s regional ambitions are clear. Whether by strength or guile, it wishes to shatter the American security system and, among other things, absorb Taiwan into its political orbit and break the First Island Chain. This would undermine America’s position across Asia and destroy the global economy. The United States has an enormous, nearly existential interest in preventing this eventuality. The question is which means of resistance the U.S. should adopt.

 

The man on the spot, the combatant commander for the U.S. Indo-Pacific Command, would present a variety of military options to the president. Questions related to global weapons stockpiles would constrain but not eliminate American options. In fact, they might encourage the United States to consider the realities of the U.S.-Chinese military balance. The crucial variable becomes the intervention of the chairman of the Joint Chiefs. Absent countervailing policy advice from the secretary of defense, it is eminently possible that the man primarily responsible for America’s future is a uniformed unelected official. The president deserves access to every source of expert military advice he can get. The current system and civil-military relations limit his sources and pose a great danger to national security.

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