The Trump administration has announced an operation called "Project Freedom" focused on the Strait of Hormuz.

Forget the speeches. Here is who has leverage: the actors who control the flow of commerce, specifically the shipping lanes and the energy markets that depend on the Strait of Hormuz. Here is who is constrained: the Trump administration, which must balance domestic political imperatives against the catastrophic economic risk of disrupting global oil supplies. The rest follows from this.

The announcement of “Project Freedom” is a rhetorical maneuver, not a strategic reality. In Florence, we learned that a prince who shouts of war while his treasury is empty and his allies are hesitant is usually trying to distract his subjects from a failure elsewhere. The Strait of Hormuz is not merely a body of water; it is the throat of the global economy. To choke it is to choke the world. Any power that threatens to close it holds the ultimate leverage, not because of its military strength, but because of its ability to inflict pain on everyone, including itself. The administration’s move is therefore a test of resolve, but it is a dangerous one. It assumes that the adversary will blink first. History suggests that when a cornered actor faces an existential threat to its revenue or sovereignty, it does not blink. It strikes.

Consider the precedent of the Pazzi Conspiracy in Florence. The conspirators believed that by striking at the Medici, they would remove the head and the body would fall. They miscalculated because they assumed the body was passive. In the Strait, the “body” is the regional network of proxies and state actors who have a vested interest in keeping the tension high but the war contained. A full-scale resumption of hostilities benefits no one except those who profit from chaos. The administration appears to be operating under the illusion that military posturing can substitute for diplomatic resolution. This is a fatal error. Posturing without a clear exit strategy is not strength; it is vanity.

The incentive structure here is perverse. For the administration, the cost of inaction is perceived as weakness, a political liability at home. The cost of action is economic instability, a global liability. The administration is betting that the domestic political gain outweighs the international economic risk. This is a calculation that ignores the interconnectedness of modern power. In the fifteenth century, a war in Tuscany stayed in Tuscany. Today, a spark in the Gulf ignites the global market. The leverage does not lie with the one who threatens the strike, but with the one who can absorb the shock. The United States, as the guarantor of the current economic order, cannot afford to be the arsonist.

The situation requires a different approach. The administration must recognize that its leverage is not military, but economic and diplomatic. The true power in the Strait lies with the merchants, the insurers, and the consumers who rely on the flow of oil. By threatening the flow, the administration undermines its own position. It is like a man who holds a knife to his own throat to prove he is brave. The adversary sees this not as strength, but as desperation.

The forecast is clear. The operation will likely result in heightened tensions but not immediate large-scale conflict, because the costs are too high for all parties. However, the credibility of the administration will erode. When the threat does not materialize into action, it will be seen as bluster. When it does materialize, it will be seen as madness. The middle ground, where the administration hopes to reside, is unstable. The precedent of Rome’s wars with Carthage teaches us that half-measures against a determined adversary lead to prolonged and costly conflicts. The administration must either commit to a decisive resolution that secures the Strait permanently or retreat to diplomacy. There is no third option.

The virtue of the administration’s stated goal - freedom of navigation - is undeniable. But virtue without competence is a liability. The competence required here is not military force, but the political will to negotiate a stable arrangement that addresses the underlying grievances of the regional actors. To ignore these grievances is to invite their return. The administration must understand that power is not just about what you can destroy, but what you can preserve. The preservation of the global economic order is a greater test of statecraft than the projection of military force.

In the end, the question is not whether the policy is just. The question is whether the coalition that supports it has the leverage to sustain it against the coalition that opposes it. Justice implemented and then reversed is worse than justice deferred until the position is defensible. The administration must ask itself: can it afford the war it is threatening? If the answer is no, it must find a way to achieve its ends without it. This is the hard work of statecraft. It is not glamorous. It does not make for good speeches. But it is the only thing that keeps the republic - and the world - safe. The alternative is chaos, and chaos favors no one, least of all those who believe they can control it.