Notes and Asides

I recently read an excellent essay by Cal Newport titled There’s a Good Reason You Can’t Concentrate. It struck a personal chord.

There was a time when I could sit for hours and read without interruption—five or six books a month, fully absorbed. At 73, that kind of sustained attention has faded. I now struggle to finish three books a month, and even then, my focus isn’t what it once was.

Newport argues that technology—especially the ever-present phone—has rewired our attention. His advice is deceptively simple: keep your phone out of reach. When it’s not within arm’s length, it loses its power to hijack your thinking. A small habit, perhaps, but one that hints at a larger truth: we are living in an age of constant distraction.

That theme—diminished focus—feels like it extends beyond the personal and into the national.

I’ve been watching commentary from Paul Krugman on the current tensions involving the U.S. and Iran. In one particularly sharp observation, he contrasted the so-called “Best and the Brightest” of the Lyndon B. Johnson era—those who guided America into Vietnam—with what he jokingly calls today’s equivalent: “the worst and the dumbest.”

The remark is biting, but it reflects a deeper concern about competence in leadership. Krugman suggests that this problem may not be confined to politics alone but could extend into the military, where experienced leadership has reportedly been sidelined in favor of loyalty.

Watching recent confirmation hearings only reinforces that impression. Time and again, nominees evade straightforward questions—particularly those concerning January 6, 2021 United States Capitol attack and the outcome of the 2020 election. The refusal to engage plainly with basic facts is not just frustrating—it’s revealing.

All of this points to a broader unease: a sense that competence, once expected as a baseline, is now optional.

Leadership matters most in moments of uncertainty, and yet this is when clarity, judgment, and integrity seem in shortest supply. The handling of tensions abroad, particularly involving Iran, reflects not just strategic missteps but a deeper erosion of seriousness.

Even figures like Pete Hegseth—sometimes dismissed as more performative than substantive—have come to symbolize this shift. The comparison to “Baghdad Bob” may be harsh, but it captures a growing perception: rhetoric is replacing reality.

Perhaps Newport’s observation applies more broadly than he intended. When attention fragments, so does judgment. And when judgment falters at the highest levels, the consequences are no longer personal—they are national.

Did Trump Fall for the old “Rope a Dope?

Mr. Trump prides himself on his sporting acumen, boxing included. He might profit from revisiting the old tactic known as rope-a-dope—absorbing an opponent’s early blows while allowing him to exhaust himself.

It increasingly appears that Iran, whether by design or by default, has let the United States and Israel expend their fury in the early rounds. The fantasy of a swift and decisive victory has already begun to fade. The later rounds, as history reminds us, are rarely kind to the overconfident

I am struck by how many baby boomers—people who lived through the long, humiliating unraveling of the Vietnam War—now sit mute as events in Iran unfold with eerie familiarity. Administration officials boast of battlefield successes, air superiority, and naval dominance, seemingly oblivious to the central truth: one can win engagements and still lose a war. We have seen this movie before, and it did not end well.

Robert McNamara and Pete Hegseth could scarcely be more dissimilar in intellect, temperament, or experience. Yet each, in his own way, has helped steer the nation toward costly and unnecessary entanglements—misjudgments dressed up as strategy.

Donald Trump’s reaction to the death of Robert Mueller—equal parts gloating and grievance—barely registered. The public has grown accustomed to his braying bombast. What future historians may judge more harshly is not the noise, but the silence: the quiet acquiescence of supporters and enablers to language that is scurrilous, conduct that is aberrant, and a worldview steeped in grievance and suspicion.

Who, then, is winning?

Perhaps it is the side whose propaganda is merely implausible rather than preposterous. A concealed—and possibly incapacitated—ayatollah now enjoys more perceived credibility than an American president. That alone should give pause.

And who will yield first?

The Israeli citizen huddled in a basement as drones darken the sky? The Iranian civilian surveying shattered streets and calling it survival? Or the American consumer, grumbling at the gas pump before heading to the shore or a matinee?

Epic Fury and the Sound of Premature Victory.

It is a curious coincidence that my current mood mirrors the title of our military operation in Iran: “Epic Fury.” The name suggests thunder, certainty, and righteous purpose. The reality, at least from the cheap seats, looks more like improvisation.

I have lived long enough to watch the United States march confidently into a number of foreign adventures—Vietnam, Afghanistan, Libya, Bosnia, and Iraq. Each was introduced with a sense of urgency and moral clarity. Most ended with a mixture of exhaustion, regret, and unanswered questions. Our present venture in Iran already shows signs of joining that distinguished club, perhaps even eclipsing it.

The consequences are beginning to show up in the most ordinary places. Less than two weeks ago, I was able to buy gasoline for $2.75 a gallon. Today the price stands at $3.29, nearly a 20 percent increase in a remarkably short time. If the conflict drags on—and poorly managed wars have a habit of doing just that—it is not difficult to imagine four- or even five-dollar gasoline within a couple of months.

Military operations also have political consequences beyond the battlefield. Whatever chance there might have been for ordinary Iranians to rise up against their government likely vanished with the bombing of a school that reportedly housed more than 160 girls. Matters were made worse when the President of the United States denied American responsibility for the strike, despite widespread evidence suggesting otherwise. In international affairs, credibility is a fragile currency; once spent, it is not easily replenished.

Meanwhile, reports have surfaced of American citizens stranded in the Middle East and struggling to return home. Many of them have publicly criticized the government’s response as slow and ineffective. European nations appear to have moved more quickly to assist their citizens. One might think that when preparing to launch military action in a volatile region, the vulnerability of civilians traveling there would be among the first considerations.

At home, the tone of official commentary has been oddly celebratory. President Donald Trump and Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth have spoken enthusiastically about the progress of the war, as though they were watching a football game and cheering for the home team. The president has even suggested that victory is already at hand. One cannot help recalling the moment when George W. Bush stood beneath a banner reading Mission Accomplished during the early days of the Iraq War—history’s way of reminding us that wars rarely consult our schedules.

Equally striking is the silence from United States Congress, which has shown little appetite for asserting its constitutional role in declaring war. In an odd twist, the make shift government of Iraq seems to have displayed more backbone than the legislative branch of the United States.

Nor does the rhetoric appear to be cooling. The president and Senator Lindsey Graham have already floated the possibility of confronting Cuba next. If this pace continues, the rest of the world may soon revive the old phrase “axis of evil,” this time with the United States awkwardly included in the lineup.

Yet the most unusual feature of this conflict may be the public reaction—or lack of it. There is little enthusiasm for the war. Outside of Fox News, vocal support seems muted. To be sure, few people mourn the death of Ruhollah Khomeini, but his successor—his son, widely described as even more militant—now stands ready to assume power. If the goal was regime change, the results remain unclear and may even prove counterproductive.

At the same time, there are no massive protests in the streets. My suspicion is that the country is suffering from a kind of national exhaustion—call it Trump fatigue. Americans have been through so many political convulsions in recent years that many seem to have retreated into weary silence. That quiet might evaporate quickly if the conflict expands into a ground war requiring a military draft.

History provides its own contrast. During World War II, the United States benefited from the leadership of Franklin D. Roosevelt and a formidable group of experienced military commanders. Today’s leadership—President Trump and Secretary Hegseth—presents a different picture. Comparisons are inevitable, though perhaps best left unstated.

Where all this leads is anyone’s guess. The conflict has already begun to ripple through the global economy and the delicate machinery of international politics. My own sense is that the outcome will prove costly for the United States in both arenas. At the moment, the only nation that appears satisfied is Israel. Elsewhere, goodwill toward America is becoming a scarce commodity.

For a country that prides itself on making friends and leading alliances, that may turn out to be the most serious casualty of all.

One Liners (Shout out to late Henny Youngman)

Take my President, please….

If the first casualty of war is truth, the second casualty is trust..

What if you throw a regime-change party and the people you’re “liberating” don’t come?

Iran is an example of intelligence failure, not that attributed to the CIA or military sources but specifically the lack of judgement, expertise and rationality from decision makers in Washington.

Trump supporters and enablers are learning or will soon find out that they will be held with the same regard as those associated with Jeffrey Epstein.

Past “credible war spokeswomen”: Tokyo Rose and Axis Sallie; today: Karoline Leavitt

Opportunity open for regime change in Iran= Khomeini killed; opportunity closed for regime change in Iran= Minab school bombing

Personal Note: What a mess! Not much rationality and reason getting through at this time. Iran’s drones are more successful penetrating our defense system.

Book Review: King of Kings: The Iranian Revolution: A Story of Hubris, Delusion and Catastrophic Miscalculation by Scott Anderson

After reading this book, it’s easy to understand why U.S. relations with Iran remain so strained and why so much hostility exists toward America. For nearly a century, presidential administrations have made diplomatic blunders, compounded by intelligence failures that shaped disastrous outcomes.

I recently finished Tim Weiner’s The Mission: The CIA in the 21st Century, which documented the CIA’s missteps in Vietnam, Afghanistan, Iran, Iraq, and elsewhere. Anderson’s account shows the same pattern: Did we get anything right?

The intelligence failures in Iran were staggering. Agencies recorded Ayatollah Khomeini’s speeches but never bothered to translate them—missing clear warnings about his intentions. Meanwhile, the U.S. continued to prop up Shah Mohammad Reza Pahlavi, a weak and indecisive ruler despised by his own people. Ironically, his wife, Farah Pahlavi, displayed far more backbone and foresight. Yet to Washington, Iran’s real value was simply the oil beneath its soil.

Equally unconscionable was the way U.S. embassy staff in Tehran were treated as expendable pawns. The Carter administration fully understood the risks—especially after allowing the Shah into the United States—yet left personnel exposed to the fury of revolutionary crowds.

The lack of coordination between diplomatic and intelligence communities in the 1970s was nothing short of criminal. Mixed signals to the Shah, who desperately needed guidance and resolve, only deepened the chaos. Even today, the lingering question remains: Did Ronald Reagan deliberately delay the hostages’ release until after his inauguration?

Anderson does an excellent job highlighting both the heroes and villains of this tragic story. One memorable account involves teacher Michael Metrinko, who earned the respect of his Iranian students by deliberately standing up to—and physically subduing—the toughest among them.

By weaving personal tales with geopolitical history, Anderson makes the Iranian Revolution come alive in all its complexity. The result is a powerful and unsettling reminder of how deeply poor leadership and intelligence failures can alter history.