US President Trump ordered US forces to "shoot and kill" boats laying mines in the Strait of Hormuz, while the Israel-Lebanon truce was extended.

You have seen the decisive hand of authority moving to secure the Strait of Hormuz, a visible display of strength intended to purge the waters of the treacherous mines that threaten the flow of global commerce. You have not yet looked for the silent, mounting costs that accrue in the shadows of such a confrontation. Let us follow the movement of these forces a little further, and introduce the person who has been left out of the account.

The headlines present us with a spectacle of clarity: a commander-in-chief issuing an order to “shoot and kill” those who would obstruct the vital arteries of the world’s energy supply. To the casual observer, this is a triumph of resolve. The seen benefit is the immediate preservation of the status quo - the prevention of a sudden, catastrophic blockage of the Strait, and the visible deterrence of those who would use the sea as a theater for asymmetric warfare. There is a certain satisfaction in watching a powerful actor move to protect the gears of the global machine from being jammed by the debris of conflict.

But we must ask: what happens when the hand that seeks to clear the path begins to strike at the very vessels it intends to protect?

When we observe the order to engage and destroy, we see the destruction of a threat. We see the “clearing” of the waterway. But we do not see the cost of the ammunition, the cost of the fuel, the cost of the lives of the sailors, nor the cost of the heightened tension that follows such a decree. More importantly, we do not see the cost of the stability that is being traded away for the illusion of control.

Consider the first iteration of this consequence. By asserting “total control” through the threat of lethal force, the state seeks to lower the risk of maritime disruption. This is the visible goal. However, the unseen consequence is the creation of a new, more volatile incentive structure. When a chokepoint is managed not by the predictable rules of commerce and international law, but by the unpredictable impulse of military engagement, the “risk” does not vanish; it merely changes form. It moves from the visible risk of a mine to the invisible risk of an escalation that no one - not even the most confident commander - can truly calculate. The mine is a static danger; the escalation is a dynamic one.

Let us follow the chain a step further. Suppose this policy of decisive engagement succeeds in the short term. The mines are cleared, the ships pass, and the oil flows. The “seen” world celebrates a victory for maritime security. But what of the “unseen” world? In the pursuit of securing the Strait, we have signaled to all actors in the region that the price of disruption has been raised to the level of kinetic warfare. This does not discourage the placement of mines; it merely encourages the development of more sophisticated, more clandestine, and more devastating methods of interference. The cost of maintaining this “control” will rise exponentially. We will see more ships seized, more naval escorts required, and more insurance premiums levied against every ounce of cargo passing through the region.

The merchant in a distant port, reading of this “total control,” does not see a safer route. He sees a route that has become a theater of war. He sees a route where the cost of doing business now includes the unpredictable volatility of a high-stakes military standoff. He sees the invisible tax of instability being levied upon every barrel of oil.

We are presented with a choice between two types of destruction. One is the destruction of a ship by a mine - a tragedy, certainly, but a localized one. The other is the destruction of the very concept of a predictable, peaceful maritime commons - a much larger, much more insidious tragedy. The former is a broken window; the latter is the systematic dismantling of the street upon which all our commerce depends.

The proponents of this policy point to the ships that were not sunk and the mines that were not laid. They point to the “control” they have exerted. But they have failed to account for the peace that was lost in the process of asserting it. They have failed to account for the commerce that will never be undertaken because the Strait has become too expensive, not because of the mines, but because of the cost of the protection.

We must ask ourselves: in our haste to strike down the visible threat, are we inadvertently funding the much larger, much more expensive, and much more permanent threat of a world where the only law is the reach of the cannon?