The war in Ukraine could have been avoided in December 2021, when Russia proposed sitting down to deal with a much more general issue: European security. Had those negotiations — which never began — taken place and achieved any kind of compromise, Ukraine’s sovereignty would have remained intact. An estimated million or more dead Ukrainians and Russians would now be alive.

In today’s international climate, expecting Western diplomats to calculate that it might be healthier to avoid war than prove a point about who has the right to make decisions for others would be totally illusory. From Washington’s point of view, there are principles that must be applied in the defense of a “rules-based order,” even at the expense of another allied country’s population.

Perhaps the seasoned strategists of DC’s State Department felt that the larger issue of European security was too big a morsel to chew on. In their eyes, the only manageable issue to consider was the right of a particular nation, Ukraine, to adhere to a sprawling and fundamentally incoherent military alliance. They had good reason to insist on this. In their mind, this was the key to maintaining control of what Zbigniew Brzezinski called “the grand chessboard.” The risk associated with spending unproductive months seeking to thrash out the mutual security requirements of neighboring, culturally connected nations was clearly not worth taking. By refusing to waste time in pointless discussion, they could seize the opportunity to continue on a well-trodden path by launching yet another one of Washington’s forever wars, another one of those epic conflicts that can carry on for “as long as it takes.”

War may be bad for some, but the war economy is good for anyone in power. That is the lesson America learned during World War II and it has never been forgotten.

In August 2021, the administration of American President Joe Biden finally wound up one of the most recent forever wars in Afghanistan. After 20 years, it had clearly run out of gas. The new Biden administration knew that Ukraine could be the new opportunity to focus on. Nearly three years on, it has become clear to everyone that — just like Vietnam, Afghanistan, Iraq, Libya and Syria — the war could not be won by the “good guys.” But winning apparently isn’t the major objective. Keeping a wartime economy going is clearly the top priority.

If, as early remarks by none other than Hillary Clinton indicated, the Ukraine fiasco was strategically planned to create an “Afghanistan situation” for Russia, the war that broke out in Gaza and Israel on October 7, 2023 was on no one’s agenda. Washington didn’t need another headache. It was too busy stoking the fires in Ukraine in its quest to postpone the resolution as long as possible. This time, the value of waging a new forever hot war accrued to a local leader, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin “Bibi” Netanyahu. A prolonged war would have the twofold merit of pleasing a lot of key people in his own government and postponing the inevitable inglorious end of Bibi’s political career.

For authoritative voices inside the Beltway, the successive killing of the two top leaders of Hamas — Ismail Haniya and Yahya Sinwar — tells them the end of the conflict may be in sight. The White House followed up Sinwar’s elimination with this pronouncement: “There is now the opportunity for a ‘day after’ in Gaza without Hamas in power, and for a political settlement that provides a better future for Israelis and Palestinians alike.”

Today’s Weekly Devil’s Dictionary definition:

Day after:

An imaginary moment of the future that governments and every other defender of the status quo in times of war has an absolute need to invoke rhetorically as a demonstration of their commitment to peace while doing everything in their power to prevent it from occurring.

Contextual note

Washington’s track record on assessing the dynamics of ongoing wars — how long they might last and when they might end — has never been brilliant. No sooner had Biden expressed his optimism about the sunny day after than his staunch ally, Netanyahu, contradicted him. “Israeli leaders,” Al Jazeera reported, “had a drastically different message. Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu said the war is ‘not over’ and pledged that Israeli forces would operate in Gaza for ‘years to come.’”

H.A. Hellyer, a geopolitical analyst, dismissed American talks of a day after in Gaza as “laughable,” noting “that the Israelis have made it very clear that they’re not leaving Gaza, that the military presence will remain, so the idea of any sort of political horizon here is just very, very unrealistic.”

So why such disparity of perception between the two allies, Bibi and Biden? One answer might be the American penchant for “hyperreality” that infects the country’s political and social culture, transforming even the average citizen’s perception of the world. Americans simply don’t see the meaning of events in the same way as others, including their ironclad allies, the Israelis. In fact, no two countries share the same vision of history, a fact State Department diplomats would do well to ponder.

For Americans, days are always significant, especially for tracking the ends of wars. The American Civil War ended on April 9, 1865, with the unconditional surrender of General Robert E. Lee at Appomattox. General Ulysses S. Grant and Lee concretized the moment with a dramatic handshake. Adolf Hitler’s suicide on April 30, 1945 put an end to World War II in Europe. A pair of atomic bombs in early August of that year ended the Pacific version of the conflict.

Hollywood war films and most westerns build up to the single dramatic moment — often a showdown — when the villain dies or is humiliated and a brighter future emerges. This pattern of expectations appears to be wired into every American’s mindset as the key to understanding existential dramas. The successive deaths of Hamas leaders Haniya and Sinwar, with the added subplot of Israel’s elimination of Hassan Nasrallah’s in Lebanon, inevitably signaled to Americans that the year-long violent movie was coming to an end.

What Americans fail to recognize is that the Israeli screenwriters were working on a different script, one that derives not from Hollywood screenplays but from the mythology of the Old Testament. Messiahs don’t take over after the death of a villain. They don’t sign peace agreements. As instruments of a divine will, they install a new order. Their mission transcends the kind of everyday human goals associated with the banalities of governance and democracy.

Historical note

 “Forever wars” inevitably produce a curious linguistic paradox. “Forever” evokes timelessness, if not eternity. But for the sake of reasonable, peace-loving political discourse, the same promoters of forever war need to invoke a precise moment of theoretical resolution: the day after. Sadly, neither term — “forever war” or day after — makes any real-world sense.

Take the case of Afghanistan. In 2001, America mobilized NATO, transporting Western troops well beyond the confines of its “home base,” the North Atlantic. Its goal was to rid a remote Asian nation of the dreaded Taliban. On that occasion, America rejected a reasonable proposal to negotiate a solution whereby Afghanistan itself would arrest and try the criminals. The administration of President George W. Bush preferred launching a war that would last 20 years. And what did the day after of that war turn out to be in 2021? The restoration of an even more radicalized Taliban.

In 1967, in the midst of the war in Vietnam that provided the initial template for future forever wars, General Westmoreland and the administration of President Lyndon B. Johnson began repeatedly evoking “the light at the end of the tunnel.” That was an earlier version of the day after. That war lasted 20 years and ended in chaotic humiliation for America.

The Hollywood treatment of war may appear inspired by Shakespearean tragedy, which always ends with a dramatic death. But William Shakespeare’s tragic characters, even villains like Richard III or Macbeth, have something heroic about them that we cannot help but admire. And the perception of the day after always remains ambiguous. When Hamlet dies, the crown is given not to a Dane, but a Norwegian rival, Fortinbras, whose name, derived from French, means “strong in arm.” In other words, despite Hamlet’s own encouragement (“he has my dying voice”), the day after will more likely be a continuation of a forever war.

*[In the age of Oscar Wilde and Mark Twain, another American wit, the journalist Ambrose Bierce produced a series of satirical definitions of commonly used terms, throwing light on their hidden meanings in real discourse. Bierce eventually collected and published them as a book, The Devil’s Dictionary, in 1911. We have shamelessly appropriated his title in the interest of continuing his wholesome pedagogical effort to enlighten generations of readers of the news. Read more of Fair Observer Devil’s Dictionary.]

[Lee Thompson-Kolar edited this piece.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.