COLUMN: Trump in the Middle East — 30 Days of Verbal Chaos, Zero Visible Strategy

When Geography Dictates Terms to Presidents

Twenty-one kilometers. That is the width of the Strait of Hormuz at its narrowest point. Approximately 21 million barrels of oil—one-fifth of global consumption—pass through this chokepoint every day. Since the start of the conflict, the mere risk of a closure has sent crude oil prices soaring by more than 30%. In France, the price of a liter of unleaded gasoline has exceeded 2.10 euros at some gas stations. The price of liquefied natural gas has followed the same steep upward trajectory.

This is not a distant war. It is a war that we pay for at the pump, every morning, in every city in France.

The weapon Iran doesn’t even need to use

Iran’s strategic genius—and we must call a spade a spade, even when speaking of an adversary—lies in the fact that Tehran does not need to close the Strait of Hormuz. It is enough for it to let people believe that it could do so. Every mine laid, every naval exercise, every threatening statement by a Pasdaran general does exactly the same job as an actual closure: fear produces the same economic effects as the act itself.

Trump has vowed that the strait will remain open—“at any cost.” But who, exactly, is paying that cost? Not the American oil companies, which are raking in record profits. Not the Wall Street traders, who are speculating on volatility. It is French, German, and Japanese families who are paying the price—at the gas pump, on their gas bills, and in the cost of every product transported by truck.

Day 1: The strike. Day 3: The negotiations. Day 5: The threat

Let’s retrace the sequence with surgical precision. February 28: Massive strikes on Iran; Trump declares it a “limited and targeted” operation. March 2: The Pentagon reveals that the strikes hit far more targets than expected—Trump claims that was “exactly the plan.” March 5: Trump announces he is open to negotiations “very soon.” March 8: More strikes, this time justified by “Iranian provocation.” March 12: Trump declares that the war “will be over in two weeks.” March 28: The war continues.

And yet, every statement was treated by the media as new information—analyzed, commented on, and taken seriously. The problem isn’t that Trump lies. The problem is that the media system is structurally incapable of treating lies as a constant factor.

The Doctrine of Intentional Chaos

There are two schools of thought. The first—advocated by Trump’s critics—sees these contradictions as evidence of fundamental incompetence, of a president who doesn’t read his briefings and governs on impulse. The second—advocated by certain conservative strategists—sees them as a deliberate form of destabilization, inherited from the world of New York business: never let your opponent know what you’re going to do.

The truth is probably more unsettling than either of these. It is neither strategy nor incompetence. It is indifference. Trump does not contradict himself because he changes his mind—he contradicts himself because his statements are not commitments. They are performances. Every sentence is tailored to the audience of the moment: supporters, the markets, the media, opponents. Consistency between these performances is simply not a consideration.

The Most Tense Group Photo Since Biarritz 2019

The G7 summit held in France in late March—in the midst of the conflict—gave rise to scenes that would have been comical if the stakes weren’t so deadly. European leaders, caught between their security dependence on Washington and their deep disagreement over the conduct of the war, produced a final communiqué of staggering emptiness. Ten paragraphs that said nothing. Three pages that decided nothing.

Emmanuel Macron tried his signature move: the theatrical middle ground. Support for Israel, a call for restraint, a mention of international law, a reference to civilians—it was all there, in a balance so perfect that it became invisible. The problem with diplomatic tightrope walking is that no one watches the tightrope walker when the circus is on fire.

What the corridors said that the microphones didn’t pick up

Diplomatic leaks—a time-honored tradition of the G7—tell a different story. Several European delegations reportedly expressed, in private, unprecedented exasperation with American unilateralism. Germany, in particular—whose economy depends heavily on imported energy—reportedly argued that Trump’s strategy in the Middle East amounted to an economic war against Europe disguised as a counterterrorism operation.

But this exasperation remains confined to the corridors. In front of the cameras, Western unity prevails—that polite fiction that everyone maintains because the alternative—publicly admitting that the transatlantic alliance is dysfunctional—would be even more dangerous than the lie.

Netanyahu in Trump’s Shadow—or Is It the Other Way Around?

The question no one is asking loudly enough: Who decided to strike Iran on February 28? The official version—that Washington acted in coordination with Jerusalem—is technically true but fundamentally misleading. Coordination implies a symmetry that does not exist. Israel had its own reasons for wanting to strike Iran—reasons that predate Trump, that will outlast Trump, and that stem from a three-decade-old Israeli security logic.

Benjamin Netanyahu, mired in his own domestic crises, has found in this war an unexpected political lifeline. In times of war, trials are suspended, the opposition falls silent, and poll numbers rise. This is no conspiracy—it’s a mechanism as old as politics itself: when the house is burning from the inside, you light a fire outside.

Iran’s nuclear program—the retrospective justification

Trump justified the strikes by citing the threat posed by Iran’s nuclear program. The argument has an apparent logic: if Tehran were approaching the nuclear threshold, a preemptive strike could be strategically justified. But this logic falls apart when the facts are examined. The 2015 nuclear deal (JCPOA), which Trump himself tore up in 2018, was specifically designed to control Iran’s program through diplomacy.

The sequence is cruelly ironic: destroy the diplomatic agreement → Iran accelerates its enrichment → use that acceleration to justify a war. It is the arsonist-firefighter elevated to the status of a geopolitical doctrine. And yet, this timeline—perfectly documented, perfectly public—is absent from virtually all American media coverage of the conflict.

The Numbers You Won’t Find on 24-Hour News Channels

How many Iranian civilians have died since February 28? The honest answer is: no one knows for sure. Iranian figures—likely inflated for propaganda purposes—range from several thousand to several tens of thousands. U.S. figures—likely downplayed for the same reasons—refer to “limited collateral damage.” Somewhere between these two extremes lies the truth, buried beneath the rubble and the press releases.

What is certain is that children have died. Women have died. Elderly people have died. People who had never heard of Iran’s nuclear program—who perhaps didn’t even know where to find Washington on a map—have died because two governments decided that their lives were worth less than their strategic objectives.

The Grammar of Invisibility

Pay attention to the language. “Targeted strikes”—as if a cruise missile could tell the difference between a military laboratory and the elementary school next door. “Collateral damage”—as if civilian deaths were a regrettable side effect rather than the predictable result of any massive bombing campaign. “Legitimate military targets”—as if legitimacy were measured by the size of the bomb rather than the number of innocent people it pulverizes.

This vocabulary is not neutral. It is designed to make death acceptable. To turn human beings into statistical data. To allow TV anchors to read the casualty figures without their voices wavering. Every euphemism is a small linguistic coffin in which reality is buried so that the viewer can continue to eat dinner in peace.

When the price of oil speaks, rhetoric falls silent

The price of oil is the most reliable lie detector in this war. When Trump announces a de-escalation, the price of oil drops—only to spike sharply 48 hours later when the de-escalation turns out to be a fiction. When the Pentagon talks about “significant progress,” traders watch the movements of the Fifth Fleet in the Persian Gulf and act accordingly.

In one month, Brent crude has risen from about $78 to over $105 per barrel. This 35% increase is no accident. It is the price of fear. And that fear will not dissipate with a reassuring tweet or an optimistic press release. It will only dissipate when ships pass through the Strait of Hormuz without a military escort—which, at the current pace, won’t be for a very long time.

Who Benefits When Oil Prices Soar

Here’s a question the mainstream media avoids with suspicious consistency: Who benefits from rising oil prices? American oil companies, first and foremost—ExxonMobil, Chevron, and ConocoPhillips are posting quarterly results that their shareholders describe as “spectacular.” Next, Russia—Moscow, despite sanctions, continues to sell its crude at sky-high prices to China and India, and every additional dollar per barrel directly funds the war in Ukraine.

And yet, in public debate, this connection is treated as an unfortunate coincidence rather than what it is: a predictable structural consequence of Trump’s Middle East policy. Striking Iran means enriching Russia. This sentence should be printed in large letters on the door of every newsroom in the Western world.

The Trap of Constant “Breaking News”

24-hour news channels are structurally ill-suited to covering a president who lies at the speed of light. The format—breaking news, immediate analysis, panel of commentators, new breaking news—is designed for a world where presidential statements have a minimum degree of temporal consistency. When that minimum disappears, the format becomes a chamber that amplifies chaos.

Every about-face by Trump generates a new media cycle. Every media cycle consumes the informational oxygen that could have been devoted to substantive issues: How many deaths? What is the exit strategy? Who is negotiating behind the scenes?

Fact-checking as a combat sport—necessary but insufficient

Fact-checking sections—such as those at TF1 or the Washington Post—do indispensable work. But fact-checking always comes after the statement. The lie travels at the speed of a tweet; the correction arrives at the speed of an article. And in the meantime, the lie has already done its job: it has framed the debate, steered emotions, and shifted the Overton window.

The real problem isn’t a lack of fact-checking. The real problem is that fact-checking has become a catch-up industry in a world that rewards speed. It’s like setting up an excellent emergency room in a country that refuses to fund prevention.

Strategic sovereignty: that phantom everyone talks about but no one is building

For years, European leaders have been talking about “strategic sovereignty”—Europe’s theoretical ability to act autonomously on the world stage. The war in the Middle East is the ultimate test of this concept. And the result is indisputable: Europe has no capacity for autonomous action in this conflict. None.

No credible projection of force without the Americans. No independent intelligence on the Iranian theater of operations. No sufficient economic leverage to influence Washington. Europe can condemn, express regret, and call for dialogue—but it cannot act. And in a war, those who cannot act are the ones whose interests are sacrificed first.

The Energy Bill—The War We Don’t See

While missiles rain down on Iran, another war is unfolding—silent, invisible, but just as devastating. It is the war over energy prices. European households, already weakened by post-COVID inflation and the energy shock from the war in Ukraine, are facing a third wave of price hikes. Gas, fuel, electricity—everything is going up. And this time, there’s no American Marshall Plan to cushion the blow. This time, it’s America itself that’s driving the price increases.

And yet, no European leader dares to utter this simple sentence: “U.S. foreign policy is impoverishing Europeans.” This statement is factual, verifiable, and well-documented. It is also politically unspeakable—because to say it is to admit that the transatlantic alliance is not a partnership but a relationship of asymmetric dependence.

Beijing Counts Its Money While Washington Counts Its Missiles

While the United States spends billions on Tomahawk missiles and military logistics, China is doing what it does best: buying. Discounted Iranian oil—with U.S. sanctions paradoxically creating a captive market for Beijing. Diplomatic influence throughout the Global South—every U.S. bomb dropped on Iran is a selling point for China’s narrative of an imperialist West.

Xi Jinping doesn’t even need to speak. His silence speaks louder than any speech. It says: Look. Look at what America is doing. Look at the chaos. Look at the destruction. And now, look at what we’re offering: roads, ports, investments. The contrast is devastating—even if the reality of the Chinese model is infinitely more complex and darker than this showcase.

Moscow—the paradox of the sanctioned nation that grows richer

Russia presents the most absurd case of this entire war. Sanctioned by the West for its invasion of Ukraine, it should theoretically be suffering from instability in the Middle East. Yet the exact opposite is true. Every additional dollar per barrel of oil represents billions in annual revenue for Moscow. The money that was supposed to fund economic pressure on Russia is instead financing its war machine.

This is perhaps the most spectacular contradiction in U.S. foreign policy over the past twenty years: waging two proxy wars simultaneously—one against Russia in Ukraine, one against Iran in the Middle East—and ensuring that the second financially nullifies the first.

What Trump Actually Said — and What Actually Happened

Statement on March 1: “This operation will be over very quickly. Maybe a week.” — Reality as of March 28: The war continues, with no ceasefire in sight.

March 5 statement: “We are not seeking regime change in Iran.” — Reality: The Secretary of State spoke of the need for “new Iranian leadership” three days later.

Statement on March 12: “The Strait of Hormuz is completely secure.” — Reality: Marine insurance premiums in the Persian Gulf have quadrupled, a sign that shipowners do not share this optimism.

Statement on March 18: “Iran is on the brink of collapse.” — Reality: The Iranian regime is functioning, fighting back, and mobilizing allied militias in Lebanon and Iraq.

And yet, every statement has been repeated, amplified, and analyzed—as if it came from a leader whose words held predictive value. Gullibility in the face of power is not naivety—it is institutional laziness.

Language as a Weapon of Mass Distraction

There is a logic to this contradictory verbiage. Each new statement erases the previous one from the collective memory. When Trump says on Tuesday the opposite of what he said on Monday, the debate focuses on Tuesday’s statement—no one checks Monday’s anymore. This is the principle of the information conveyor belt: the speed of the flow prevents in-depth analysis.

Traditional dictators control information by suppressing it. Trump controls information by drowning it out. The result is the same: citizens no longer know what to believe. Saturation is the censorship of the 21st century.

Macron Is Walking on Eggshells—and the Shells Are Cracking

France’s position is a balancing act that is reaching its limits. Paris is trying to simultaneously maintain its alliance with Washington, its historic relationship with the Arab world, its commitment to international law, and its credibility with a public increasingly hostile to war. Four conflicting objectives. Zero room to maneuver.

The result is a series of deliberately ambiguous statements that satisfy no one. Pro-Israel advocates find Macron too lukewarm. Pro-Palestinian advocates find him complicit. Atlanticists find him hesitant. Sovereigntists find him submissive. When everyone is dissatisfied, it isn’t necessarily a sign of a good balance—it’s sometimes a sign of a lack of a clear position.

What France Could Do—and What It Doesn’t Dare to Do

Yet France does have real assets. A permanent seat on the UN Security Council. An independent nuclear deterrent. One of the most extensive diplomatic networks in the world. A tradition of mediation—from De Gaulle to Chirac—that has historically allowed Paris to play a role disproportionate to its raw power.

But playing that role would require something that Macronism, in its current form, seems incapable of producing: diplomatic courage. Not words—but actions. Propose an international conference. Send an envoy to Tehran. Say publicly what everyone is thinking privately: this war is a strategic mistake, it enriches the West’s adversaries, and it must end. But saying that means upsetting Washington. And upsetting Washington means risking trade retaliation at a time when the French economy cannot afford it.

What Africa, Asia, and Latin America See—and What the West Refuses to See

For four billion people living in the Global South, this war confirms a narrative that has been solidifying over the past two decades: the West applies international law selectively. When Russia invades Ukraine, it is an intolerable violation of national sovereignty. When the United States bombs Iran, it is a “preemptive security operation.”

This asymmetry in treatment is not a paranoid perception—it is a fact documented by decades of precedents. Iraq in 2003. Libya in 2011. Syria. Afghanistan. Every Western intervention without a clear Security Council mandate widens the credibility gap between the West and the rest of the world a little more.

The UN vote that no one is talking about

The UN General Assembly voted on a resolution calling for a ceasefire. 143 countries in favor. 9 against. 25 abstentions. The 9 countries against: the United States, Israel, and a handful of Pacific nations whose foreign policy is tied to U.S. aid. This vote—overwhelming, massive, and unambiguous—was the subject of a brief mention in the Western press before disappearing from the news cycle.

143 countries. That’s not a vocal minority. It is not an ideological bloc. It is virtually the entire planet saying: Stop. And this virtual totality is ignored—because in the current world order, the U.S. veto in the Security Council carries more weight than the combined voices of 143 sovereign nations. International democracy is a myth that the West upholds only as long as it serves its interests.

Scenario 1: Stalemate (the most likely)

This is the default scenario—the one that unfolds when no one makes a bold decision. Strikes continue at a reduced pace. Iran retaliates sporadically. The Strait of Hormuz remains open but unstable. Oil prices fluctuate between $95 and $115. No victory, no defeat, no end—just a slow hemorrhage that everyone learns to regard as normal.

This is the most dangerous scenario in the long term—because the stalemate creates its own dynamics of escalation. A naval incident. A missile strike that hits a civilian vessel. An attack claimed by an Iranian militia. Every day of stalemate is a day when chance can turn a limited conflict into all-out regional war.

Scenario 2: Escalation (the most feared)

Iran closes the Strait of Hormuz—even temporarily. Hezbollah opens a northern front against Israel. Pro-Iranian militias in Iraq attack U.S. bases. Suddenly, it’s no longer a war against Iran—it’s a regional war on five simultaneous fronts. Oil prices surge past $150. The global economy enters a recession. And Trump finds himself facing a choice that all his predecessors have dreaded: deploying ground troops to the Middle East.

This scenario is not science fiction. Every element of it is technically possible today. The only thing holding it back is restraint—on both sides. Yet restraint, in a conflict fueled by impulsive statements and a logic of mutual escalation, is the most fragile resource of all.

Scenario 3: Negotiation (the least likely in the short term)

A diplomatic agreement. A ceasefire. Perhaps even a new nuclear deal—a JCPOA 2.0 that would incorporate the lessons learned from the failure of the first one. This scenario is theoretically possible. It is also, given the current political landscape, the least likely. Trump has built his political brand on the rejection of multilateral diplomacy. Returning to the negotiating table with Iran would be an admission of failure that neither his ego nor his electoral base would tolerate.

Peace requires what this war destroyed in the first place: the ability to speak to the enemy without threatening it.

The Most Bitter Lesson

A month of war in the Middle East teaches us something we already knew but refused to admit: the international system is broken. The Security Council is paralyzed by vetoes. Alliances are dysfunctional. International law is applied with double standards. Diplomacy has been replaced by tweets. And human life—that value which all charters, all treaties, and all constitutions place at the top of the hierarchy—has become a variable to be adjusted in strategic calculations of which most of the victims are unaware.

And yet—and this is perhaps the most dizzying part—the world keeps turning. The stock markets open on Monday. Planes take off. Children go to school. We have developed a terrifying ability to integrate the unacceptable into our daily routine. The war in the Middle East has become a scrolling ticker at the bottom of the screen—between the weather and the sports scores.

The Responsibility of Those Who Watch

There is a temptation—understandable, human, almost irresistible—to look away. To tell ourselves that it’s far away. That it’s complicated. That, in any case, there’s nothing we can do about it. These three phrases are the three stages of the rocket of indifference. But that’s not true. It’s not far away—it’s at the gas station. It’s not that complicated—it’s a war triggered by identifiable political choices. And there’s nothing we can do about it—except that we live in democracies where leaders are, in theory, accountable to citizens for their decisions.

The opposite of courage isn’t cowardice. It’s indifference. And indifference, when lives are at stake, has an older and more weighty name: passive complicity.

Signed, Jacques PJ Provost