Deadline for US Congress on war in Iran

23 June 1954

The news reports speak of “plans” and “options” - as if war were a problem to be solved by computation. But before one asks how to strike Iran, one must ask whether the question itself is computable. Can “deterrence” be formalized into a decision procedure? Does there exist any finite sequence of military actions guaranteed to produce a stable outcome?

The generals speak of “short and powerful” strikes, as if violence were an algorithm with predictable termination. But war is not a Turing machine. There is no halting state where the opponent simply stops. Each action begets unpredictable reactions, branching into an infinite tape of consequences. The problem is undecidable - not for lack of intelligence or precision, but because the system itself is non-computable.

They imagine they are optimizing a solution. In truth, they are iterating a function with no fixed point. The real question is not “how to strike,” but “can the desired outcome be computed at all?” If not, then no amount of force will converge on stability.

I see the same error everywhere - in diplomacy, in policy, in the crude mechanical thinking that mistakes power for control. The map is not the territory. The procedure does not halt.

April 23, 1899

The papers are full of it today - the President, they say, is considering a new set of military strike options against the Persians. The plan, I read, is for a series of “short and powerful” strikes. It put me in mind of a fellow I knew out West who proposed to cure his mule’s stubbornness with a series of “short and powerful” kicks. He was most persuasive on the theory of it, explaining how the brevity would spare the mule undue suffering while the power would convey the necessary message. He administered the first kick with great precision. The mule, absorbing this diplomatic communiqué, promptly kicked him through the wall of the livery stable. The fellow was puzzled by this, as the plan had looked so elegant on paper.

I have always wondered why it is that the drafting of these plans is left to the same gentlemen who will be farthest from the consequences, while the execution is left to the young men who will be closest to them. It is a marvelous division of labor. The former work in quiet rooms with maps that show no blood, and the latter work in loud places the maps never mentioned. The former call it policy; the latter, if they come back, seldom call it anything at all.

They say these strikes would be aimed. One supposes that is a comfort. Everything is aimed until it isn’t, in the same way that every stone you throw into a river is aimed, but it’s the ripples that do the visiting on distant shores you never intended to call upon. But no matter. The Commission will draft the plan, and the Congress will have a deadline to consider it, which lends the whole affair a satisfying air of orderly deliberation. It is always a noble thing to see a great nation proceed with haste toward a precipice it has carefully agreed not to look over.

This morning, I read with interest that the United States Congress has been given a deadline to consider new military strikes against Iran. How efficient! One must admire the precision with which these matters are timed - like a gardener planting seeds according to the almanac, only these seeds are explosives, and the harvest is not certain.

I am told the strikes are to be “short and powerful,” which sounds rather like a description of a good sermon - brief, but with impact. It reminds me of a tale I once heard of a man who, upon being struck by lightning, declared it an efficient way to warm oneself quickly. And indeed, if one must have a war, it is best to have it swiftly - though perhaps not so swift that one forgets to ask why it is necessary at all.

They say the plan was drafted by Central Command. How fortunate we are to have such diligent planners, who can arrange destruction with such precision. It is, no doubt, the best of all possible plans - for if it were not, surely they would have chosen another.

I shall tend to my garden today, where the only explosions are those of blossoms opening to the sun. There, at least, the consequences are predictable.