The Pre-War Posture: How History Repeats in the Shadow of Iran
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B-2s are repositioning, missile systems are being concealed, and digital traffic is being suppressed—not as preludes to war, but as adjustments in a longer game of strategic signaling. Regional actors observe, recalibrate, and wait for the next move.
It has happened before—not exactly the same, but with the same rhythm: the quiet withdrawal of non-essential personnel, the sudden surge of tanker aircraft, the feigned diplomatic outreach while warplanes fuel in the dark. In 1998, Operation Desert Fox was launched under the pretense of unfinished business from earlier strikes on Iraq’s WMD program—just as today, intelligence gaps were framed as imminent threats. In 2003, the same playbook unfolded: base clearances in Kuwait and Qatar, stealth bombers flying from distant bases, and a narrative built on unverifiable nuclear ambitions. The world watched, debated, and then looked away as the bombs fell. And when the dust settled, the regime endured longer than expected, the region burned hotter, and the liberators became occupiers. Now, history leans in again. The B-2s are warming their engines, the IRGC is moving its missiles underground, and the internet in Iran has gone silent—not from technical failure, but from the age-old instinct of a state bracing for war. The protests are real, the anger is real, but they are also convenient—just as the Kurds were convenient in 1991, the Syrian rebels in 2013, and the Venezuelan opposition in 2019. Power rarely invades for morality; it invades for momentum. And when the first bunker buster cracks the earth above a hidden centrifuge hall, few will remember that the war was sold as liberation, not necessity. The pattern is not in the weapons, but in the silence before them—the way nations rehearse war long before they declare it.
—Marcus Ashworth
Published January 30, 2026