It’s a feeling many of us share: a knot in the stomach when the news breaks of another deployment, another strike, another tense standoff involving American forces. In a world that feels increasingly fractured, the sight of our military engaged overseas can be deeply disconcerting. It raises valid questions about cost, both in blood and treasure, and about the endless cycles of intervention. Yet, within this anxiety lies a crucial, often unspoken truth—one that guides the most sober minds in foreign policy: the United States, for all its power, cannot go to war with everyone.
The burden of being a global power is the constant pull of crises. From regional aggressors to humanitarian catastrophes, the calls for action are relentless. Each situation presents its own moral and strategic complexities, and the impulse to “do something” is a powerful one. But strategic wisdom is not defined by the strength to act alone; it is defined by the harder discipline of choosing when, where, and how to act. A nation that tries to confront every challenge with direct military force doesn’t showcase its strength; it stretches its resources to the breaking point and abdicates its role as a stable, long-term leader.
Engagement must not be confused with endless conflict. America’s toolbox is vast, and military power is but one instrument within it. Diplomacy, economic statecraft, intelligence sharing, and building alliances are the quieter, more sustained engines of influence. They are the tools that contain problems, isolate bad actors, and create pathways that aren’t paved with escalation. Choosing not to launch a military campaign is not the same as choosing indifference. Often, it is the prerequisite for crafting a smarter, more collective response that doesn’t center solely on American boots on the ground.
This understanding is rooted in a profound responsibility to the women and men who serve. To commit them is to commit a piece of the nation’s soul. That decision must be reserved for moments where core interests are truly at stake, and where the objective is clear and achievable. Using force promiscuously dilutes its impact, wearies the public, and ultimately risks the very credibility it seeks to project. Restraint is what keeps our actions significant and our promises solemn.
So, when the news unsettles us, let that feeling lead not to despair but to a more nuanced conversation. Let it steer us toward questions about enduring partnerships, about diplomatic resilience, and about the patient, often unglamorous work of deterrence. The goal of American strategy cannot be to fight every fire. It must be to build a world resilient enough that fewer fires spark, and to ensure that when we must act, we do so with overwhelming purpose and the broad support of those who share our stake in a stable order. That is not a sign of weakness; it is the hallmark of a power built to last.