“We’re starving them, literally”—exact quote, source: Newsmax, April 22, 2026
You have to read this sentence in context to grasp its full weight. Marshall isn’t describing an unfortunate consequence of the U.S. blockade on Iran. He’s boasting about it. “We also have this embargo that’s working—the blockade—and we’re literally starving them, financially and physically—they can’t feed themselves for very long.” This isn’t a confession wrung from him. It’s a voluntary statement, made on a television set, with the characteristic smile of a man announcing good news.
The deliberate use of famine as a weapon of war is prohibited by Article 54 of Additional Protocol I to the Geneva Conventions. This is not a legal gray area. It is not a debate among experts. It is a war crime that has been defined, codified, and condemned by international humanitarian law since 1977. And Senator Marshall has just publicly claimed responsibility for it, live on air, with the composure of a man who has never had to look a starving child in the eyes.
The UN warned in March 2026 that an additional 45 million people were at risk of falling into acute hunger if the conflict and the closure of the Strait of Hormuz continued through June. 45 million. Marshall calls that “working.” I call it something else.
319 million people, and the strait that no longer opens
The World Food Programme had already documented 319 million people facing acute food insecurity worldwide before the Iran-U.S. conflict. The Strait of Hormuz, through which approximately 20% of the world’s oil and a significant portion of grain bound for the Middle East passes, has been closed for weeks. Iran had agreed to reopen it as part of the temporary ceasefire. But Israeli strikes in Lebanon and the U.S. blockade of Iranian ports—which Tehran considers violations of the ceasefire—have once again shut down the passage.
Meanwhile, in Kansas, Senator Marshall is tallying the results. The blockade “is working.” People “can’t feed themselves for very long.” That is the victory he proclaims. Empty stomachs as indicators of strategic success. Children wasting away as proof that the pressure is mounting. There are no words to describe this level of moral dissociation—except perhaps: normalization.
The trajectory: It's no accident—it's a documented escalation
May 2025: Randy Fine Wants to “Nuke Gaza”—and Lands a Key Position
This isn’t the first time. In May 2025, Republican Representative Randy Fine of Florida publicly stated: “We nuked the Japanese twice to secure an unconditional surrender. The same must be done here.” Fine was referring to Gaza—to the 2.3 million people trapped in a 360-square-kilometer strip of land. The Council on American-Islamic Relations (CAIR) condemned these statements. The Republican administration responded by granting Fine a seat on the House Foreign Affairs Committee.
That is the institutional response to a call for nuclear genocide: a promotion. Not a disciplinary hearing. Not a statement of disavowal. Not even an awkward silence. A promotion. Fine talks about nukes; Fine gets foreign affairs. Marshall talks about Truman; Marshall remains a senator with his reputation intact. The mechanism is crystal clear: in the Republican Party of 2025–2026, rhetorical escalation toward the atomic bomb is not a red line. It’s a launch pad.
In March 2024, Representative Tim Walberg (Michigan) said that Gaza should be attacked “like Nagasaki and Hiroshima.” Three elected officials. Three references to atomic bombs. Three times: no consequences. At what point does a series of three become a policy?
March 2024: Walberg, Nagasaki, and the Silence of Republican Leaders
Tim Walberg, a Republican representative from Michigan, told voters in March 2024 that Gaza should be treated “like Nagasaki and Hiroshima.” The quote was reported by The New York Times. The Republican leadership did not condemn it. Kevin McCarthy said nothing. Mike Johnson said nothing. Donald Trump said nothing. Walberg is still a representative. He still holds his seat. He still votes.
Three elected officials. Three explicit references to the use of nuclear weapons against civilian populations—Japanese in 1945, Palestinians and Iranians in 2026. Zero disciplinary action. Zero expulsion. Zero break with the party line. This is no longer just a slip of the tongue. It’s a culture. And a culture must either be defended or allowed to spread. There is no third option.
What Trump Said on Tuesday — and What Legal Experts Are Saying
“Blow up the rest of their country”: The President’s Words, April 21, 2026
The day before Marshall’s interview, Donald Trump publicly threatened to “blow up the rest of their country” if ceasefire negotiations failed. He had also threatened to target Iranian power plants. Legal experts from Amnesty International stated the following day that these threats constituted threats of war crimes under international humanitarian law—civilian infrastructure such as power grids enjoys special protection under the Geneva Conventions.
This isn’t a deleted tweet. It isn’t a statement taken out of context. It is the President of the United States publicly announcing that he is considering destroying the civilian infrastructure of a sovereign state if negotiations do not yield results to his satisfaction. Two days later, his allied senator invoked Truman and the atomic bomb. The rhetorical ecosystem is complete: the president sets the tone, and elected officials provide the ammunition.
I’m not a lawyer. But I can read. And what I’ve been reading for the past forty-eight hours resembles less foreign policy than a process of collective desensitization to the idea of a mass slaughter.
52 Senators Against a Check—The April 15, 2026, Vote
On April 15, 2026, the U.S. Senate voted on a resolution aimed at limiting Trump’s war powers regarding Iran. Fifty-two Republican senators voted against it. Fifty-two elected officials chose to give free rein to a president who threatened to “blow a country to smithereens.” Among them: Roger Marshall, a senator from Kansas, who spoke a few days later on Newsmax about Truman and the atomic bomb.
Those 52 votes are names. Those names have addresses. Those addresses receive ballots every six years. This is not a democratic abstraction—it is a direct causal chain between a voting booth in Kansas and a decision that could kill millions of people in Tehran. And yet, the vote took place amid relative media silence. And yet, most of these senators faced no significant public pressure. And yet, it continues.
Iran in 2026: How the Blockade Is Affecting Ordinary People
Morteza, 43, a pharmacist in Isfahan — what he can no longer order
Since the U.S. blockade was tightened in January 2026, imported medications have all but disappeared from provincial pharmacies in Iran. Morteza Ahmadi, 43, a pharmacist in the Jolfa neighborhood of Isfahan, told Reuters on March 3, 2026, that he can no longer order insulin analogs for his diabetic patients. Local production covers only 40% of the demand. The rest comes from Switzerland, Germany, and France—countries whose companies no longer want to risk secondary U.S. sanctions.
This isn’t just a statistic. It’s a person with type 1 diabetes in Isfahan who has to ration their insulin because a Kansas senator thinks the blockade “is working.” It’s an elderly woman undergoing chemotherapy who learns that her next cycle will be jeopardized. It’s the acrid smell of crowded waiting rooms where doctors explain, for the third time this week, that they can no longer prescribe what was standard six months ago. The hunger that Marshall celebrates has a face. It has millions of them.
Marshall said, “We’re starving them.” Morteza Ahmadi, for his part, has to explain to his patients why there’s a shortage of insulin. These two realities coexist at the same time, on the same planet. One is spoken in an air-conditioned studio in Washington. The other is lived out in a pharmacy in Isfahan. I prefer to name both.
An additional 45 million people: the figure Marshall did not mention
The UN documented this in March 2026: if the conflict and the closure of the Strait of Hormuz persist until June, an additional 45 million people could fall into acute hunger due to rising food prices. This number is in addition to the 319 million people already facing acute food insecurity worldwide. These people do not live in Iran. They live in Egypt, Yemen, Somalia, Bangladesh, and dozens of other countries that depend on trade passing through the Strait of Hormuz.
The U.S. blockade does not just punish Iran. It punishes the entire planet. Roger Marshall’s decision to call this a strategy “that works” reveals either a profound ignorance of global economic geography or—worse still—a complete indifference to the consequences. Forty-five million more undernourished people is not acceptable collateral damage. It is a crime that has been foretold, documented, and quantified. And celebrated on Newsmax.
The Truman Precedent: What Marshall Failed to Mention
Hiroshima, August 6, 1945: The Facts That the Metaphor Overshadows
When Roger Marshall refers to “Truman’s decision,” he conjures up an image. He does not conjure up the facts. The facts: On August 6, 1945, at 8:15 a.m., the “Little Boy” bomb exploded 580 meters above Hiroshima. In a matter of seconds, 70,000 people died. Among them: children on their way to school. Women opening their shutters. Elderly people boiling water. By the end of the year, the effects of radiation would bring the death toll to 140,000. Nagasaki, three days later: another 80,000 dead.
Historians still debate the actual military necessity of these bombings. That is not the point here. The point is that Marshall used this decision as an illustration of a normal political option, applicable to Iran in 2026. Iran has a population of 90 million. Tehran alone has 9 million. A 50-kiloton tactical nuclear bomb dropped on the Natanz nuclear complex—250 kilometers from Tehran—would contaminate the groundwater of a region with 5 million inhabitants for decades. Marshall says to “take everything into consideration.” He does not specify what.
Truman’s metaphor is not innocent. It is deliberate. It normalizes the situation. It implies: other presidents have had to make difficult choices; this isn’t madness, it’s responsibility. But Truman killed 200,000 civilians. If that’s the model, it must be stated clearly. Marshall does not state it clearly. That is precisely the problem.
Modern nuclear weapons are nothing like those of 1945
In 1945, “Little Boy” had a yield of 15 kilotons. The current U.S. arsenal includes weapons ranging from 0.3 kilotons (B61-3) to 1.2 megatons (B83). The smallest “tactical” nuclear bomb in the contemporary U.S. arsenal is twenty times more powerful than “Little Boy.” The B61-12 bomb, deployed in Europe since 2023, can be set to yields ranging from 0.3 to 50 kilotons. Even at its minimum yield, if dropped on an underground Iranian nuclear site such as Fordow—built inside a mountain 90 meters deep, 30 kilometers from Qom, a city of 1.5 million people—radioactive fallout would reach Tehran within 72 hours, according to models by Physicians for Social Responsibility.
This is public information. Marshall knows it—or should know it—since he serves on the Senate Armed Services Committee. He made these remarks either fully aware of what he was talking about, or completely ignorant of the committee on which he serves. In either case, he is not qualified to have this conversation. In either case, no one in his party has demanded that he clarify his remarks.
Why doesn't anyone in the Republican camp say "no"?
The Mechanics of Escalation: Who Speaks Up, Who Stays Silent
There is a specific political dynamic that explains why the statements by Marshall, Fine, and Walberg do not spark an internal revolt within the Republican Party. Republican primaries reward radicalism. An elected official who condemns a colleague for mentioning a nuclear bomb risks being perceived as “too soft on national security.” An elected official who remains silent—or who approves—solidifies his or her base. This dynamic has been well documented since at least 2015: in a system of open primaries with a polarized voter base, escalation is rational on an individual level but catastrophic on a collective level.
And yet, this is not inevitable. Republicans have said “no” in the past. John McCain refused to let an elderly woman call Obama “an Arab” at a rally in 2008. Mitt Romney voted to convict Trump during the first impeachment trial. These moments exist. They are rare because the political cost is real. But they prove that a choice exists. Marshall chose. Fine chose. Walberg chose. They are not victims of the system—they are actors who fuel it.
People will say: these are just rhetorical gestures. Posturing. No one is actually going to press the button. Perhaps. But genocides don’t start with the button. They start with the normalization of language that makes the button conceivable.
The silence of European allies: complicity by omission
Since Trump’s statements on Iranian power plants, since the 52 Senate votes against curbing war powers, since Marshall’s interview—the French, German, and British governments have issued no formal public condemnation. No recall of ambassadors. No joint E3 statement. No summoning of the U.S. ambassador. A diplomatic silence that, from the outside, looks like acquiescence.
Europe has direct interests at stake in this matter. Commercial contracts with Iran are worth billions. The 45 million people threatened by hunger include populations in countries where Europe funds humanitarian programs. And above all: if the United States crosses the nuclear threshold—even rhetorically—without its allies saying a word, Europe will have lost something irreplaceable in terms of its own moral credibility. That’s not something you can easily recover.
What we do when we read without reacting
Scrolling and Everyday Companionship in Peacetime
You’re reading this on a screen. Maybe on the subway. Maybe while eating. When you’re done, you’ll close the tab and move on to something else. That’s normal—it’s what most of us do, most of the time. Myself included, often. The problem isn’t psychological. The problem is structural: we live in democracies where decisions about war are made by elected officials who depend on our votes, our attention, and our organized outrage—and we have collectively decided that online outrage is enough.
It’s not enough. The 52 senators who refused to rein in Trump have office hours. They have phone numbers. They have campaign accounts that depend on donors. They have potential opponents in their states who are waiting for funding. A world in which a senator can call for considering a nuclear strike against a country of 90 million people and then go home to eat dinner without facing any consequences is a world we have built through our passivity. Not out of malice. Out of fatigue. Out of detachment. Out of the comfort of believing that someone else is taking care of it.
I’m not accusing you. I sat down to read this transcript thinking: someone is going to react strongly. Someone in the U.S. Senate is going to stand up and say no. I waited. Twenty-four hours. Forty-eight hours. Nothing significant. So I’m writing this. Because silence comes at a cost.
The Difference Between Condemning and Taking Action
Human rights organizations have condemned it. CAIR issued a statement. Amnesty International quoted legal experts. Social media accounts shared the story. And yet Marshall is still a senator. And yet Fine is still on the Foreign Relations Committee. And yet the 52 votes against curbing war powers are still on the record, with no visible electoral consequences. Condemnation without political follow-through is a ritual of self-righteousness. It changes nothing.
Taking action, in this specific context, doesn’t necessarily mean protesting in front of the Capitol—though that’s not without effect. Taking action means refusing to let this sequence of events—Marshall, Fine, Walberg, the 52 votes—disappear into the flow of current events. It means anchoring it in memory. It means bringing it up again in September 2026, in November 2026, on the day of the midterm elections. It means ensuring that “he mentioned Truman and the bomb” is a phrase that sticks to a name for the next four years.
What history remembers about silences of this kind
The Words That Precede Catastrophes: A Well-Documented Pattern
Historians of genocide—Gregory Stanton, Raul Hilberg, Samantha Power—have all documented the same sequence: before the acts come the words. Not always explicit words. Often euphemized, metaphorical, or normalized words. The “Final Solution” did not emerge overnight—it was preceded by years of gradual dehumanization, rhetoric of infestation, and less “final” “solutions” that were publicly discussed and tolerated. Tolerance of words always precedes tolerance of actions.
I’m not saying that the United States is going to launch a nuclear attack on Iran tomorrow. I’m saying that three Republican elected officials have cited Hiroshima and Nagasaki as positive examples in the last eighteen months. I’m saying that each time, nothing happened. I’m saying that in the archives our descendants will read, these moments will either be ignored warning signs or evidence that someone said “stop.” We are still choosing which column we will appear in.
Power wrote: “The problem is not a lack of information. It is a lack of political will to deal with the available information.” She was referring to past genocides. The statement applies to today as well.
What Truman Really Felt—What Marshall Did Not Quote
Harry Truman, in his personal diaries, wrote on July 25, 1945, ten days before Hiroshima: “We’re going to use it against Japan before August 10… The target will be purely military.” ” Hiroshima was not purely military. 140,000 civilians died. In his memoirs published in 1955, Truman maintained that the decision had saved more lives than it had cost. Historians such as Gar Alperovitz have challenged this justification for the past fifty years.
What Marshall failed to mention: Truman banned any further use of the atomic weapon without his express personal authorization, as early as August 1945. He refused to authorize its use in Korea in 1950. He relieved MacArthur of his command in part because of his repeated requests for nuclear authorization. The man Marshall holds up as a role model was, himself, convinced that this weapon could not be used a second time. The irony is complete. And cruel.
Conclusion: The bomb is not a metaphor
What Happens If No One Says “No” Out Loud
There is a scenario in which Marshall’s statements remain exactly what they appear to be: campaign rhetoric for a base that wants to hear tough talk. In this scenario, nothing happens. The negotiations succeed. The ceasefire holds. Marshall is re-elected in 2028 without anyone even asking him about it. This scenario is possible. But it is not guaranteed.
There is another scenario. In this one, negotiations fail in June 2026, just as they have nearly failed three times since January. Trump, whose impulsiveness has been documented by his own aides in six separate memoirs, seeks a military option capable of “finishing the job” before the midterm elections. His advisors present him with the options. Senators on his side have already normalized the reference to Truman. He no longer has to break a taboo—the taboo has been erased by Marshall, by Fine, by Walberg, by fifty-two votes of deference. In this scenario, the words have laid the groundwork.
I don’t know which of these two scenarios will play out. No one does. What I do know is that we still have the choice to decide which one is possible. And that this window is closing.
Dar, age 7, South Tehran—why we write
Dar Hosseini is 7 years old. She lives in the Shahre Rey neighborhood, south of Tehran. Her mother, Nasrin, 34, works as a seamstress from home. Since the blockade began, the synthetic thread she used to order from Germany has been unavailable. She now uses local thread, which is less durable but half the price. She earns about 40% less than she did before January 2026. Dar is still eating. Dar is still going to school. Dar draws horses, according to what her mother told a Reuters correspondent on April 7, 2026.
Roger Marshall doesn’t know Dar. He doesn’t know Nasrin. He has probably never set foot in the Shahre Rey neighborhood. He said, “We’re starving them,” without ever having looked anyone in the face. That is precisely what makes the language of the bomb possible: abstraction. In this discourse, Iran’s 90 million inhabitants are not Dars who draw horses or Nasrins who sew with weaker thread. They are “them.” “Iran.” An entity. A threat. A target.
Sources
Main sources cited in this article
Statement by Roger Marshall on Newsmax: Interview aired on April 22, 2026, YouTube/Official Newsmax
Source article from Truthout: “GOP Senator Suggests Trump Should ‘Finish’ Iran With Nuclear Bomb,” Truthout, April 22, 2026
Senate vote on war powers: “52 Senators Vote Against Reining In Trump’s War on Iran,” Truthout, April 2026
Trump’s threats against Iranian power plants: Amnesty International, March 2026 — threats of war crimes
UN warning on hunger: Al Jazeera / UN, March 2026 — an additional 45 million at risk
Randy Fine’s statements on Gaza: CAIR, condemnation of Fine’s statements, May 2025
Tim Walberg’s statements on Nagasaki/Hiroshima: New York Times, March 31, 2024
Trump’s genocidal rhetoric on Iran: Truthout, analysis of Trump’s threats, 2026
Statement by the Iranian Foreign Minister on the ceasefire: Abbas Araghchi, official X account, April 2026
By Maxime Marquette, columnist
This content was created with the help of AI.