History repeating

The Western World awoke this morning to the somewhat expected news of American strikes against Iranian nuclear sites.(1) As widely anticipated across global media, and as forecast months or even years ago by people closer to the world's intelligence communities, the strikes represent a seismic shift in the international landscape of the early 21st century.(2) None of this, however, is without historical precedent, and the precedents generally do not look especially favorable for American ambitions around the globe.

First, a note on Iran. The past ten days, or, if we like, roughly the past ten months, represent a pretty dramatic turn of fate for the Persian state.

• Start on September 17, 2024, with the devastating attacks — via pager! — on the leadership of Lebanese Hezbollah, and both asymmetrical and conventional Israeli attacks on the Iranian proxy thereafter, pretty much eliminating a leading Iranian proxy in a matter of weeks.
• Continue on to December 2024, and the collapse of the Assad regime in Syria. Again, in just a few weeks, Iran's entire western flank unravelled.
• Cap this off with Israeli and now American strikes on Iran itself over the past ten days, revealing in stark terms just how poor the Islamic Republic really is, not only in terms of projecting power and influence across the Middle East, but even acting in its own self-defense.

This is not new territory for a Persian state. The defeats of the past ten months are probably about as embarrassing for the regime as the battles of Issus and Gaugamela against Alexander the Great, or facing Heraclius' Nineveh campaign in 627-628 CE. It's for good reason that some commentators have started to anticipate the end of the Islamic Republic, though Iran itself may yet survive — not least thanks to Western norms known as the Westphalian system that frown pretty harshly on the idea of disestablishing sovereign states.(3) What form a new Iran may take is open to speculation, though in the current security environment, Iranian revival under a figure like Nader Shah seems extremely unlikely. (4)

Meanwhile, the geopolitical consequences for the U.S. and the rest of the world might be just about as shocking, and as long-lasting. Recalling my earlier "Cardinal Directions" posts, we're now broadly into the last era of Cardinal Fleury's influence in France, trying to limit French involvement in what became the War of the Austrian Succession and hold onto whatever prestige and reputation France had as an honest broker. In that event, surely some French ministers and diplomats remained on the level, and indeed James Pritchard's excellent study of the d'Enville Expedition (5) illustrates a pretty high degree of French professionalism in general, even amid some catastrophically corrupt high-level politics. There is little doubt that the American military and diplomatic corps today remain highly professional and highly capable, though top level leadership, again, may be leading them down a rather tortuous path where thinking minds among them may prefer not to go.

Where are they going? Military adventurism. It didn't work out well for France in the 1740s, and with Chinese threats to Taiwan today, and plenty of other regimes around the world seeing whatever advantage they can find in their spheres of influence, the door is now more open than it has been in many decades to probe the limits of kinetic operations. Pandora's box may well be open as Iran's leaders have warned. Whether Iran itself does much in the short term remains to be seen; but American action in this instance also has consequences that are much larger in scope, global in scale, and could well shape international relations as a whole for decades to come.

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1. https://www.axios.com/2025/06/21/us-strike-iran-nuclear-israel-trump

2. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5TU6-k1rgPA

3. Andreas Osiander, ”Sovereignty, International Relations, and the Westphalian Myth” International Organization 55:2 (Spring 2001): 251-287.

4. https://archive.org/details/b30529967/page/n3/mode/2up

5. James S. Pritchard, Anatomy of a Naval Disaster: The 1746 French Naval Expedition to North America. McGill-Queens, 1995.

The Road Too Eagerly Taken

In my previous post on weaponizing aid, I suggested that Cardinal Fleury's path to peace reflected not only a sincere and consistent pacifism, but also a wily exploitation of European geopolitical mores.(1) Again recalling the events of February and March of this year, President Trump does seem to have a working knowledge of what can be accomplished not only with the giving of aid — and quite probably with the front-line deployment of U.S. forces in a given theatre — but also by withholding it to achieve his ends.

And yet, the temptation to strike Iran as only U.S. forces can must be overwhelming — and not just any strike, either, but using a novel weapon to hit the highest profile target of a regime that has chanted "death to America" pretty consistently over nearly the past half-century. I think it should be fairly obvious on all sides that the U.S. possesses the capability and the technical know-how to pull this off, and, as Israel has already done, to mitigate much of the worst blowback that is likely to emerge — at least from Iran itself. I this sense, it's rather more of the same from the U.S., with its reputation pretty much still intact for waging anything like conventional war.

Enter France under Cardinal Fleury in 1741.

Wait. What?!

Yes, bear with the historical comparison. It's closer to the present than we might think, and not just because it falls at the end of Fleury's tenure in office.

Okay, so what happened? 

In an episode fairly familiar to historians of 18th century Europe, the newly-crowned King Frederick II of Prussia cooked up and exploited some legal fictions to seize the province of Silesia from the even more newly-Crowned Archduchess of Austria, the Empress Queen Maria Theresa. On the Prussian side, Dennis Showalter's Wars of Frederick the Great (Longman, 1996) gives a pretty good narrative; while Franze Szabo's Seven Years War in Europe (Longman, 2007) brilliantly captures the visceral feel of betrayal felt in Vienna, not only at a remove of sixteen years — at the start of the Seven Years' War in 1756 —but also at a remove of a quarter-millennium!

But what concerns us here is the French side, loosely allied with Prussia, not exactly friendly to Austria, and weighing whether to stake its hard-won reputation for honest brokering against the golden opportunity to rewrite European geopolitics on the battlefield, where Turks and now Prussians had done a lot of heavy lifting over the previous five years.

It's been about five or six days for Israel against Iran at this point, but the analogy holds shockingly well when we know the next move…

In the event, a group of hawks led by the charismatic Duc de Belle-Isle prevailed on Louis XV to get involved in what became known as the War of the Austrian Succession, to seek regime change in the Holy Roman Empire, and to weaken, perhaps fatally, the geopolitical standing of France's traditional Austrian rivals. The first campaign in 1741 broadly succeeded, but the pendulum swung the other direction by 1742, and French forces departed from Germany altogether after a disastrous campaign in 1744. Though she never recovered Silesia, Maria Theresa triumphed in other theatres of the war, and France, in particular, emerged as a significant loser by the Treay of Aix-la-Chapelle in 1748 — all the more so for opportunities missed or blown by rolling the dice on military solutions. For these, see the well-written histories of the War of the Austrian Succession by Reed Browning (St. Martin's, 1995) and M.S. Anderson (Longman, 1995).

So what about the road not taken? Fleury was none too fond of the young Prussian upstart, perhaps not entirely different in opinion from many Americans today about Israel's military adventures over the past couple of years. Had French policy been left in Fleury's hands, there remains little question of his own temptation to intervene — Austria did look quite weak, if not already beaten. But Fleury had been here before, and not much earlier. True, French intervention in the Balkans in 1738 would have been a stretch, at best, and a fair bit of Europe at the time would have looked askance at military intervention in favor of the Muslim Ottoman Empire against fellow Christian Austrians and Russians. Short of intervention, though, and well documented in Karl Roider's Reluctant Ally (LSU, 1972), Fleury did interpose his diplomats, and settled an advantageous peace for the Turks in the 1739 Treaty of Belgrade.

All of this to say, the temptation for President Trump must be overwhelming for going after Iran in its moment of weakness; yet the temptation could be, and should be equally great to stand aloof. If ever there were a moment when standing aloof and making a deal could reinvigorate American diplomatic efforts in other theatres, this may well be it. Yes, it is a reach to go back into the 18th century looking for historical parallels and Cardinal directions, but comparisons with Belgrade, and with what may well have been the road too eagerly taken to war in 1741, do seem to bear some reflection.

Weaponizing Aid

Following the infamous Trump-Zelenskyy press conference at the end of February this year (1), the U.S. government notably, publicly, intentionally withheld military aid from Ukraine. Opinions about the wisdom of this step continue to vary, as do opinions about the outcomes — for example, renewed Russian operations in Kursk Oblast.(2) In time, the Ukrainian diplomatic position shifted remarkably, posturing ever more as the party of peace in the conflict.

In recent days, Israel and Iran seem to have approached a similar tipping point, with U.S. military assets again — and even more — a decisive factor.

• President Trump's recent advice to "evacuate Tehran" seems a bit over the top, but with the ordinance that U.S. assets in the region could bring to bear on Iran, perhaps only a bit over the top. At the time of writing, this is apparently the most visible option under consideration. (3)
• And yet, key figures in the U.S. government, Trump not least among them, have also taken pains to say that the U.S. is more neutral than might first appear toward Tehran. As one official said of Prime Minister Netanyahu's ambitions for regime change, "It's the Ayatollah you know versus the Ayatollah you don't know." (4)
• And let it be said, too, that provisions between the U.S. and Israel — known as WRSA-I (5) — do, in principle, allow for a drawdown of Israeli access to U.S. munitions by executive order. Both executive and legislative branches of the U.S. government also have scope to revise packages of U.S. foreign aid to Israel — already a fairly significant talking point during Israel's operations in Gaza since October 2023. (6, 7)

Let's also look at a deep historical precedent for the third point here, from Cardinal André Hercule de Fleury.(8) The leading French minister some 300 years ago seems an odd choice for seeking historical parallels, but…

I am drawing here from my chapter in The New Makers of Modern Strategy (Princeton, 2023) (9), part of which notes specifically how Fleury reduced or refused foreign aid to his own allies in the 1720s and 30s, to good diplomatic effect.

I'll dig into this a bit more, with, I think some useful applications in the present historical moment.

Episode 1: The Anglo-Spanish War of 1727 (10)

Trade disputes between Britain and Spain escalated into an undeclared war in 1727. Britain sent one of its largest naval and marine forces up to that date to the Caribbean, while Spain embarked on a siege of Gibraltar. Britain and France were formally allied at the time, and British Prime Minister Robert Walpole called on France — under Fleury's functional leadership — to attack Spanish interests on land in Europe. Fleury flatly refused to get involved, very publicly withheld the French army, convened the long but ineffectual Congress of Soissons, and eventually brokered an Anglo-French-Spanish alliance with the Convention of El Pardo in 1729.

Episode 2: The War of the Polish Succession (11)

Disputes over the succession to the crown of Poland informed a rather unusual conflict between France, Spain, and Sardinia on one side, and Austria and Russia on the other. The highest-profile fighting took place up and down the Italian peninsula, and more modestly along the Rhine. This conflict would seem to have enabled British turnabout — refusing the services of their fleet to the French, for example, but Walpole remained neutral, with one key exception. A diplomatic flare-up in 1735 threatened a Spanish-Portuguese expansion to the ongoing war, and Walpole duly fulfilled British treaty obligations to Portugal, sending 28 warships and 9,000 troops. Spain called for French aid in its own right, and Fleury again refused. France, in turn, was soon able to play a leading role in peace negotiations that culminated in the Treaty of Vienna (1738).

With further detail and elucidation in my chapter, these two examples demonstrate how Fleury used the vital card of French military power to advantage, not by playing it, but rather by withholding it very visibly — and of course, keeping it in reserve. In both cases, France emerged as an honest broker in European diplomacy, while Walpole, by repute a fair pacifist in his own right, ruined the British position by resorting too visibly to the practice of gunboat diplomacy.

Channeling Fleury's wisdom for the present moment, President Trump's strongest geopolitical play may be to continue withholding U.S. assets, and perhaps even doing a bit more with this.

Could Trump by executive order, for example, simply (and loudly, visibly, publicly) omit ground attack assets from military aid to Israel for a short time?

With plenty of U.S. assets still in the region to accommodate the changing strategic situation, and storehouses still full or re-filling with American munitions, Israel need not worry too much about abandonment, certainly not from the perspective of self-defense, even as the U.S. postures more clearly as a disinterested broker with Iran — or rather, a broker properly interested in a nuclear deal and nothing more.

In the 1720s and 30s, France under Fleury's guidance gained a towering reputation for honest brokering and peacemaking, preferable in these roles to almost any other actor on the European stage, large or small. President Trump seems to want a similar role for the U.S. in the present day — not even so much isolated from the world, but more aloof if that were possible. In this respect, and in others that I will continue to tag as Cardinal Directions, perhaps there are a few pages he might borrow from Fleury's book.

A French Center?

Geopolitics in Western Europe has been dominated by the United States since World War II. That happened for a variety of reasons, many of which are now well out of date. If and as the American presence in Europe recedes, who might step in?

The French, of course! But not just for reasons of capability and prestige in the present day. (1, 2)

Going back to World War II, one might dispute how well Americans were prepared for the hostile seas, skies, and beaches that awaited them, but there is much less question about U.S. supply, logistics, force projection, and financial and infrastructure roles in shaping the late war and postwar order all around the world. Proud societies understandably felt themselves eclipsed by American largesse, and it's reasonable to see the Gaullisme of mid-century France (wikipedia summary here) as partly a reaction to Western Europe's traditional premier land power being completely overshadowed by Germany and Britain in quick succession, and soon enough, the newcomer Americans.

Fast forward to 2025, and the perseverance of France as one of the leading regional powers — and the only nuclear power on the continent of Western Europe — leads fairly rationally to suggestions that France, today, should take a leading role in NATO's ongoing progress into Eastern Europe and beyond.

Rewind to 1725, however, and it's possible to see some fairly deep historical grounding for the role that France is now set to take — perhaps a fair counterpoint to Russia's withdrawal from the European concert. It's around this time that premodern French involvement in Eastern Europe reached its height, amid some curious, potentially informative historical footnotes.

Putting the Band (Barrier) Back Together?

Earlier today, May 28, 2025, Finnish President Alexander Stubb gave an interview with CNN, reproduced on YouTube, here.

I strongly suspect that Stubb's sense of geopolitics is not especially informed by George Friedman's book, The Next Hundred Years (2009, Wikipedia summary here), but both noted the rise of Turkey and Poland as regional powers, and Finland, especially if combined with Sweden and the Baltics, might fairly constitute a third player in that bloc.

But wait!

There was a time when one might identify a Finno-Sweden, Poland-Lithuania, and Turkey with some Balkan allies, as forming a bulwark against Russian ambitions in Eastern Europe. The three powers among themselves did not exactly form a coherent coalition, yet what brought them together on one side was, indeed, the ambition of Russian leaders like Peter the Great, and on the other, Western support. In particular, France was notable for lending subsidies, political support, and at least on occasion, arms — what we would today call foreign aid, diplomatic cover, and, still, arms! The French knew this combination of powers as the Barrière de l'Est, or eastern barrier, broadly intended to keep Russia out of the affairs of the rest of Europe.

There seems to be even more to the conversation, as the Guardian notes here, and not for the first time. Invoking Peter's endurance in the Great Northern War (1700-21), Russian diplomats in the recent Istanbul summit hinted at their intention simply to outlast Western aid to Ukraine. President Putin does correctly note Russia's victory in the Northern War, though this was also the major occasion, at least at times, when France, Sweden-Finland, Poland-Lithuania, and Ottoman Turkey came together most coherently.

Putin might also note that Peter (fl.1682-1725), and pretty much all the rest of Russia's leaders of the 18th and 19th centuries, and well into the 20th, all had their eye on penetrating this eastern barrier so that Russia could not only march west, but also, and rather, engage with the West. Carrying forward Peter's legacy, Russia as a state wanted to be Western, to fit into the European systems of commercial and intellectual exchange, as well as foreign relations!

I opened this blog post thinking that I would discuss the Eastern Barrier coming back together, which it may well do. I close it, however, thinking about Putin not as repeating or even emulating the achievement of Peter the Great, but rather profoundly reversing it, and undoing some 300 years of Russian strategic thought. Thinking on earlier generations, the Treaties of Nerchinsk (1689) and Kiakhta (1727, 1768) were all designed to define and stabilize the East so successive Russian leaders could turn their attention to the West. If Putin and his successors in the coming years put Finlandization to rest, and truly have a NATO-Russia border, then well might we see, not even so much the renewed rise of the old Barrier powers, but rather the return of Russia to what it was before Peter's time: primarily a power of the Eurasian steppe lands, largely excluded from the community of European states.