Why does the United States seem perpetually drawn into wars in the Middle East?

It’s not just about oil or ideology; it’s a toxic cocktail of economic self-preservation, unbreakable alliances, historical baggage, and a dash of imperial hubris that keeps pulling America back into the fray.

And right now, with the breaking news of the U.S. and Israel launching joint strikes on Iran on February 28, 2026, President Donald Trump himself announcing “major combat operations” in a fiery video message, this pattern feels more glaring than ever.

This escalation isn’t some aberration; it’s the latest chapter in a story that’s been unfolding for decades. Let me unpack my thoughts on this, drawing from history, current events, and my own analysis, because frankly, ignoring it won’t make the cycle stop.

First off, let’s talk about the elephant in the room: oil. I think the U.S.’s obsession with Middle Eastern conflicts boils down to this black gold more than anything else. The region holds roughly half of the world’s proven oil reserves, and America has long seen itself as the guardian of global energy flows. Remember the 1973 oil embargo?

That was a wake-up call that showed how vulnerable the U.S. economy is to disruptions in the Persian Gulf. Policies like the Carter Doctrine in 1980, which basically said “hands off our oil interests or we’ll use force,” set the tone for endless involvement.

Fast-forward to today: Iran’s threats to the Strait of Hormuz, where a fifth of the world’s oil passes through, have been a red flag waving in Washington’s face. Trump’s strikes, which he framed as preemptive against Iran’s nuclear and missile sites, are, a direct response to fears of choked shipping lanes and skyrocketing prices.

Reports of explosions in Tehran and Iranian retaliatory missiles lighting up the skies over Israel, air raid sirens blaring there and it’s clear this isn’t just about defense; it’s about ensuring that no hostile power dominates the energy chessboard. Sure, the U.S. is now a net oil exporter thanks to fracking, but global markets are interconnected.

If Iran squeezes the strait, American consumers feel the pain at the pump, and politicians lose elections. This economic imperative overrides any talk of “energy independence”—it’s about control, not just supply.

But oil alone doesn’t explain the full picture. The strategic alliances play a massive role, and none more so than the U.S.-Israel bond. I’ve always thought of Israel as America’s unsinkable aircraft carrier in the Middle East—a democracy in a sea of autocracies, sharing intelligence and serving as a counterweight to adversarial forces.

Since Israel’s founding in 1948, the U.S. has poured billions into its defense, and for good reason: it aligns with American values of freedom and self-determination. Domestic politics amplify this; groups like AIPAC wield influence, ensuring bipartisan support.

Look at the current strikes: Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu called them a “pre-emptive attack” to neutralize an “existential threat,” and Trump echoed that, urging Iranians to overthrow their regime post-operation.

From what I’ve pieced together, this was months in the making, joint planning sessions, shared intel on Iran’s underground nuclear facilities. Without Israel’s lobbying and the shared fear of a nuclear-armed Iran, the U.S. might have stayed on the sidelines.

Then there are the Sunni Arab allies like Saudi Arabia and the UAE. The Abraham Accords in 2020 normalized ties with Israel, creating a united front against Iran. America gets sucked in because these partners expect protection—think U.S. arms sales topping $100 billion annually.

It’s a quid pro quo: they buy our weapons, host our bases, and we shield them from Iranian proxies like the Houthis in Yemen or militias in Iraq. This web of alliances means that when Iran-backed groups attack, like the drone strikes on Saudi oil fields in 2019 or recent hits on U.S. troops, America feels compelled to respond.

Personally, I see it as a trap: these ties provide short-term stability but lock the U.S. into long-term conflicts.Ideology is another layer that fuels this interest, and I have strong feelings about how it’s often misused. Post-World War II, the U.S. positioned itself as the defender of the free world against communism, and the Middle East became a proxy battlefield.

The 1953 CIA-orchestrated coup in Iran, ousting Prime Minister Mossadegh to protect British oil interests, sowed seeds of resentment that blossomed into the 1979 Islamic Revolution. That event turned Iran into America’s boogeyman, an anti-Western theocracy sponsoring terrorism worldwide.

The 9/11 supercharged this ideological clash, framing the region as a hotbed of extremism that threatens the homeland. Al-Qaeda, ISIS, Hezbollah—the list goes on, and Iran’s “Axis of Resistance” has been at the heart of it, killing U.S. personnel in bombings from Beirut in 1983 to roadside IEDs in Iraq. Trump’s video message, calling on Iranians to “take over your government” after the strikes, reeks of this messianic zeal: liberate the oppressed, spread democracy.

But here’s where I get cynical—I think this rhetoric is a fig leaf for realpolitik. The 2003 Iraq invasion, sold as removing WMDs and building a beacon of freedom, ended up costing $2 trillion, 4,500 American lives, and unleashed sectarian chaos that birthed ISIS. Similarly, the current operations—dubbed “Roaring Lion” by Israel and “Epic Fury” by the U.S.—aim to “obliterate” Iran’s capabilities, per Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth.

This could backfire spectacularly, radicalizing more people and creating power vacuums for extremists to fill. Ideology sounds noble, but in practice, it’s often a justification for interventions that serve elite interests, not the average citizen.

Speaking of which, I can’t ignore the role of the military-industrial complex in perpetuating this cycle. As someone built to question the status quo, I see the U.S. as trapped in an empire’s inertia. We have over 50 military bases in the region, a remnant of Cold War deployments that now sustain massive defense budgets—$800 billion annually, more than the next 10 countries combined.

Contractors like Lockheed Martin and Raytheon rake in profits from arms deals and endless wars. This creates a feedback loop: conflicts justify budgets, which fund more capabilities for future conflicts. The Iran strikes exemplify this, reports indicate 33% of U.S. military assets mobilized, including carrier groups and stealth bombers.

It’s not just about Iran; it’s signaling to China and Russia, who’ve been arming Tehran with advanced defenses. I’ve read analyses suggesting that without these engagements, the defense industry would shrink, costing jobs in key congressional districts.

Politicians, lobbied heavily, keep the machine running. Isolationists like Rand Paul argue for pulling back, but the system resists. This “permanent war” economy diverts resources from domestic needs, think infrastructure crumbling while we fund foreign adventures.

It’s unsustainable, and the human cost is heartbreaking: millions displaced in Syria, Yemen’s famine worsened by U.S.-backed Saudi campaigns, and now potential spillover from Iran into Pakistan-Afghanistan border clashes.

Critiquing this doesn’t mean I’m blind to the threats. Iran has enriched uranium to near-weapons grade, defied IAEA inspections, and built a missile arsenal capable of reaching Europe. The JCPOA nuclear deal in 2015 briefly curbed this, but Trump’s 2018 withdrawal, pressured by hawks reignited the program. Recent Geneva talks collapsed over U.S. demands for zero enrichment, leading to these strikes.

Diplomacy should be the first resort, but when Iran attacks U.S. embassies or funds Hamas’s October 7, 2023, assault on Israel, action becomes inevitable. Still, I worry about blowback: anti-American sentiment surges, recruitment for jihadists spikes, and allies like Europe distance themselves.

The U.N. Security Council is in emergency session over this, with China and Russia condemning the strikes as “aggression.” Airlines suspending flights, markets dipping—it’s chaos that could engulf the region.

On a deeper level, I believe cultural misunderstandings exacerbate the U.S.’s involvement. America views the Middle East through a Western lens, assuming our model of governance is universal.

But histories of colonialism, British mandates, French Sykes-Picot agreements carving up the region left artificial borders and grievances. Iran sees itself as a Persian empire resisting foreign domination, not a rogue state.

Ignoring this leads to failed nation-building, as in Afghanistan’s 20-year quagmire ending in 2021’s chaotic withdrawal. We need empathy, not just firepower.

What about alternatives? Invest in renewables to reduce oil dependency, strengthen multilateral institutions like the U.N., and engage in genuine diplomacy. The Biden era tried de-escalation, but Trump’s return, winning in 2024 on a “peace through strength” platform reverted to confrontation. These strikes might deter Iran short-term, but long-term?

I doubt it. Regime change rarely works; look at Libya post-Gaddafi.In wrapping up my ramblings, I think the U.S.’s endless interest in Middle Eastern wars stems from a blend of necessity and folly—protecting vital interests while overreaching into unwinnable fights. The 2026 Iran strikes, with their high-stakes drama of missiles and regime-toppling calls, highlight the risks.

Naorem Mohen

Naorem Mohen is the Editor of Signpost News. Explore his views and opinion on X: @laimacha.