History’s ironies: When illegal wars get the silent vote

History has a cruel sense of irony. It rarely repeats itself in form, yet it often returns in spirit. The technologies change, the alliances shift, the rhetoric evolves – but the logic of power remains stubbornly familiar.

As the Gulf War enters its second week, the world watches a conflict wrapped in the language of peace. Military strikes launched even as diplomatic negotiations appeared to make progress. A war justified in the vocabulary of security, deterrence, and even liberation. Leaders speaking of stability while missiles redraw the strategic map of West Asia. And perhaps most striking of all: the uneasy quiet of a global order that once claimed to be built on rules, law, and the sanctity of sovereignty.

Such rhetorical inversions are not new. Great powers have long claimed necessity. What is striking today is the ease with which such claims pass with little serious institutional resistance.

The first irony lies within the Islamic world itself. What is often portrayed externally as a civilisational bloc is in reality fractured by enduring political and sectarian rivalries. The Sunni-Shia divide continues to shape regional geopolitics, while competition among powers such as Saudi Arabia, Iran, and Turkey prevents any coherent collective response. Solidarity exists in rhetoric far more than in strategy. Into this fragmented landscape steps Pakistan, occasionally presenting itself as a mediator. Yet mediation requires credibility. A country long entangled in controversies surrounding militant networks struggles to command the trust required to stabilise crises. Mediation without credibility often deepens cynicism rather than resolving conflict.

A second irony concerns the narratives of leadership. Political figures across democracies frequently oscillate between the rhetoric of peace and the practice of force. Promises of ending wars coexist with the preparation for new ones. This duality is not unique to any individual leader; it reflects a deeper tension within the strategic culture of major powers. Yet the dissonance between rhetoric and reality has rarely appeared so stark – Trump and Netanyahu being prime examples.

The third irony lies in the paralysis of the institutions created precisely to prevent such crises. The United Nations was founded on a simple but profound principle: aggressive war must be constrained by international law. Article 2(4) of the UN Charter prohibits the use of force against the territorial integrity of states. In practice, however, the system has always collided with the realities of power. Whenever a permanent member of the Security Council – or a close ally – is involved, the mechanisms of collective enforcement stall. The veto ensures that the most powerful states remain effectively beyond the reach of the rules they helped design. The UN continues to function as a humanitarian network and diplomatic forum. But as an instrument capable of restraining great-power force, it appears increasingly paralysed.

Does this represent a return to 19th-century geopolitics? Only partly. The 19th-century Concert of Europe operated within a small circle of imperial powers largely insulated from public scrutiny. Today, war unfolds in real time before a global audience. Legitimacy still matters. Yet, what may be emerging is something more subtle: a world of stratified sovereignty. On paper, every member of the UN is equal. In practice, sovereignty exists on a sliding scale shaped by military capability, nuclear deterrence, financial power, and technological control.

The instruments of influence today are rarely colonial armies. They are sanctions regimes, semiconductor supply chains, financial networks, and payment systems. Empire has evolved. Control can be exercised without colonies and influence, without annexation. For many states observing the current conflict, another lesson is difficult to ignore. Countries without credible deterrence remain vulnerable. The ideals of non-proliferation often collide with the strategic realities of survival in an unequal international system.

Beneath this vocabulary lies a familiar danger: moral absolutism. When warmongers become convinced that their cause is uniquely righteous, restraint begins to dissolve. The post-1945 international order was never purely idealistic. It was a bargain. Major powers accepted partial institutional constraints in exchange for legitimacy. The rules were imperfect, but they imposed constraints. Today, that restraint appears weaker. When the rules-based order becomes rules for some and discretion for others, smaller states draw an obvious conclusion: principles are luxuries for the protected. Everyone else must find a patron, build deterrence or accept vulnerability.

History’s deepest irony may therefore lie here: An international order created to restrain power risks eroding precisely when its principles are most needed. The silence of global leaders may be tactical. Or it may be symptomatic. If it is the latter, then the crisis is not only regional. It is systemic. And history, with its unforgiving memory, will record not merely who acted – but who acquiesced. The moral question will run deeper: did the empire of power expand because the conscience of the world fell silent?

The writer is a former civil servant and enjoys traversing the myriad spaces of ideas, thinkers, and books.

Disclaimer: The views expressed above are the author's own. They do not necessarily reflect the views of DH.