By Don Terry & Mary Jones | Monday, June 23, 2025 | 9 min read
The recent airstrikes on Iran’s nuclear sites—Natanz, Fordow, and Isfahan—were carried out by B-2 Spirit stealth bombers, which dropped Massive Ordnance Penetrator (MOP) bombs designed to destroy deep underground facilities. Trump himself confirmed the operation on Truth Social, signaling a readiness to use extreme military force. While retaliation from Iran was predictable, the pressing questions about what comes next remain largely unasked.
In moments of crisis, great leaders ask hard questions. They weigh consequences. They consider not only what’s possible, but what’s wise. “What comes next?” is the kind of question a serious president asks before taking a nation to the brink. It’s a question grounded in humility, caution, and an understanding of history. But in the current political landscape—particularly with figures like Donald Trump—that question too often gets lost under layers of ego and spectacle.
The escalating tension between Israel and Iran is not a political sideshow. It is a deadly serious standoff between two powers with vast military capabilities, complex regional alliances, and a long history of mutual hostility. Intelligence reports and leaked briefings now suggest that Iran may possess or be close to deploying hypersonic or supersonic missile systems capable of reaching Israeli cities—including Jerusalem—in a matter of minutes. Whether or not that threat is fully realized, the risk is real. And any U.S. president worth the title should be laser-focused on understanding that risk before stoking the flames.
But that’s not what we’re seeing from Donald Trump. Instead, there’s a disturbing pattern—one that places personal legacy over national security, and political gain over global stability. Trump has long shown a fascination with military spectacle. He boasts about weaponry. He threatens adversaries with language more suited to a video game than a diplomatic briefing. And more troubling, he has expressed interest in the use of bunker-buster bombs as if their use would somehow cement his name in the history books.
The fact that he once accused his own Director of National Intelligence of lying speaks volumes. Not just about his distrust of institutions, but about his willingness to discredit expert assessments when they don’t align with his political agenda. That moment alone should give the public pause. If a president dismisses intelligence about adversaries like Iran, how can we trust he’ll handle real threats with the seriousness they require?
There is nothing wrong—indeed, there’s everything right—with asking Prime Minister Netanyahu: How did you get the Iraqi intelligence so wrong? That miscalculation didn’t just cost Israel credibility; it cost the United States blood and money. In a just world, that kind of failure demands accountability, not silence. American leaders often avoid asking tough questions of their closest allies, but true partnership means honest scrutiny—especially when the stakes are this high.
Let’s be clear: bunker-buster bombs are not symbolic. These are massive, precision-guided munitions designed to penetrate fortified underground facilities—like those used to shield nuclear programs. Their use signals an escalation far beyond conventional warfare. Dropping one doesn’t just destroy a facility. It sends a message: that diplomacy has failed, that de-escalation is no longer on the table, and that the rules of engagement have fundamentally shifted.
In the context of the Israel-Iran conflict, the deployment of such weapons could set off a chain reaction—militarily, diplomatically, and psychologically. Iran, a regional power with asymmetric warfare capabilities and alliances with non-state actors like Hezbollah and the Houthis, would almost certainly retaliate. Civilians would pay the price. American troops in the region would face immediate danger. Israeli cities could be targeted with precision strikes. And the chance of drawing in other global powers—Russia, China, and European allies—would increase dramatically.
This isn’t about hypotheticals. It’s about responsibility. A president’s job isn’t just to pull the trigger—it’s to ask whether the trigger needs pulling at all.
So when Trump treats these scenarios like a backdrop for bravado, we have to stop and ask ourselves what kind of leader we’re dealing with. Is he someone who will listen to military advisors? Will he seek counsel from diplomats? Will he consider the long-term implications of short-term decisions? His record says no.
Beyond Iran’s retaliations, a chilling question lingers: What if Russia, an ally of Iran, escalates further and targets Israeli nuclear sites? Such a move would risk plunging the entire region—and possibly the world—into an unprecedented conflict. Would America be prepared to respond? Would diplomacy even stand a chance in the face of such a crisis?
These are the hard questions that demand answers but remain unasked. Yet, for a figure like Trump—eager to brandish military might and claim historic “firsts” in warfare—these critical strategic inquiries seem to be missing from the agenda. The cost of ignoring them could be catastrophic.
This is the same president who, when tensions flared with North Korea, bragged about having a “bigger button.” Who praised authoritarian leaders while alienating allies. Who withdrew from the Iran nuclear deal without a replacement strategy and then claimed vindication when tensions predictably surged. For Trump, conflict seems to serve as a stage, not a crisis to be managed with care.
But war isn’t a performance. And leadership isn’t about who gets to be the loudest in the room. It’s about who has the courage to pause. To listen. To ask “What comes next?”—even when the answer is politically inconvenient.
For Israel, the stakes couldn’t be higher. While it has unmatched intelligence capabilities and a powerful military, it is also geographically vulnerable. A single miscalculation could cost thousands of lives and spark a broader regional war. For Iran, retaliatory strikes are almost guaranteed if its sovereignty is directly attacked—especially with American munitions. And for the United States, involvement in another Middle Eastern conflict would come with massive costs: in blood, in treasure, and in global credibility.
The American people deserve a president who understands this. Who views military force not as a legacy-making tool, but as a last resort. Who recognizes that the goal of foreign policy is not dominance, but stability. Who sees human lives—not just headlines.
This isn’t about ideology. You don’t have to be a progressive to recognize the dangers of impulsive war-making. You don’t have to be a pacifist to demand accountability from those with the power to launch bombs. You just have to care. About consequences. About truth. About people who live far from the headlines but who suffer the most when politicians treat war like strategy games.
Trump may believe that using a bunker-buster bomb would cement his place in history. He’s probably right—but not in the way he imagines. It wouldn’t make him a visionary. It wouldn’t make him a leader. It would make him a cautionary tale—a symbol of what happens when ego outpaces empathy, and when legacy is valued more than life.
In times as dangerous as these, what we need isn’t reckless posturing dressed up as strength. We need steady, thoughtful leadership. We need humility. We need people at the helm who are willing to ask the toughest questions—not for their own ego, but because real lives hang in the balance. And what we absolutely don’t need is a president spinning fiction about a ceasefire that doesn’t exist, just to nudge the markets he helped send into chaos—chaos triggered by his own failure to think through the fallout of bombing another nation.
The Strike Was Just the Beginning. Is the State Ready for What Comes Next?
When war becomes a tool of statecraft, every lever of government must be engaged—not just the Pentagon. Treasury and Commerce must anticipate economic shockwaves: sanctions backlash, volatile markets, and global energy tremors. Homeland Security must elevate threat levels and guard the borders. Cybersecurity agencies must prepare for digital retaliation from Tehran’s operatives. Intelligence officials must track Iran’s proxies—from Hezbollah’s strongholds in Beirut to quiet cells in Buenos Aires—and monitor other rogue regimes like North Korea, which edges ever closer to nuclear capability.
But here’s the deeper question: were these agencies even part of the conversation before the strike? Are they part of it now?
Many of these institutions are underprepared for the role they must now play. Some have been politically compromised. Others are struggling with internal turnover, budget constraints, or leadership voids. The result is a national security apparatus that’s fragmented, under-coordinated, and distracted at precisely the moment it should be unified.
The decision to bomb Iran’s nuclear facilities in Natanz, Fordow, and Isfahan was a moment of tactical clarity. But in war, tactical clarity means little without strategic cohesion. Military action should not be improvisational. It must be the final act in a broader plan—woven tightly with diplomacy, economic policy, and honest public messaging. To win a war—or even avoid the next one—you have to know what you’re trying to achieve.
What follows this strike? What’s the red line for escalation? How do we signal deterrence without inciting a wider regional war? Are our forces postured for a multi-theater confrontation? Are our citizens ready?
These are not questions to be asked after the missiles have flown. They are precisely what war planners and civilian leaders should answer in the days, weeks, and months beforehand. A military operation may be over in minutes. The consequences can stretch on for years.
Every operation ends with a risk assessment. Not “can we succeed?” but: what if we don’t? What if Iran responds in unexpected ways—through cyberattacks, oil tanker sabotage, or proxy terror in a Western city? What if American political support evaporates after the first wave of casualties? What if our allies turn away?
This is not alarmism—it’s statesmanship. War is never clean. It’s never predictable. And in today’s interconnected world, it’s rarely confined to the battlefield.
The first move has been made. The target has been hit. Iran will respond—in its own time, and likely on its own terms. The question is whether the United States is prepared not just militarily, but institutionally, psychologically, and politically for what comes next.
And if we’re not, we should be asking why.
Because sending Americans into conflict is not just a show of strength. It is a burden, a responsibility, and a test of leadership. One that demands preparation, seriousness, and the humility to know that even the best-laid plans can unravel.
Now, the burden of foresight begins and the question isn’t just what comes next? It’s who will be left to ask it?
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