One day after the New York Times published newly released video footage of a U.S. drone strike that killed 10 innocent civilians in Kabul, Afghanistan last year, a group of 50 U.S. senators and House members wrote to President Biden calling on him to “overhall U.S. counterterrorism policy” with a greater emphasis on human rights and international law.
The letter — led by Sens. Elizabeth Warren (D-Mass.) and Chris Murphy (D-Conn.), as well as Rep. Ro Khanna (D-Calif.) — urges Biden to “prioritize non-lethal tools to address conflict and fragility, and only use force when it is lawful and as a last resort.”
The lawmakers note that U.S. airstrikes since 9/11 have killed at least 48,000 civilians with drone strikes alone accounting for 2,200, including 450 children. “Alarmingly,” they write, “the actual numbers are likely significantly higher given the difficulty of comprehensive reporting and the United States’ consistent underreporting of these numbers and reported refusal to investigate reports absent ‘potential for high media attention.’”
The letter is admirable and a step in the right direction but there is more these lawmakers themselves can do. For example, Human Rights Watch’s Sarah Yager and Leah Hebron have argued on these pages that given the lack of accountability for U.S.-caused civilian casualties, Congress can launch investigations similar to the 2008 inquiry on detainee treatment.
“The critical piece,” they said, “is to evaluate not just the individual strikes but systemic failures by the U.S. military and its civilian leadership — failures to set the right guidance on civilian harm, to follow up on investigations, to avoid safeguards and oversight.”
Congress could also repeal the laws that the executive branch has used to justify these airstrikes that cause civilian casualties — the 2001 Authorization for the Use of Force against the perpetrators of 9/11 and the 2002 AUMF greenlighting the invasion of Iraq. They do nothing but prolong America’s forever wars, which President Biden himself has pledged to end.
Ben Armbruster is the Managing Editor of Responsible Statecraft. He has more than a decade of experience working at the intersection of politics, foreign policy, and media. Ben previously held senior editorial and management positions at Media Matters, ThinkProgress, ReThink Media, and Win Without War.
Photos: Phil Pasquini, Paul Boucher, and viewimage via shutterstock.com
Eighty years ago, on June 26, 1945, the United Nations Charter was signed in San Francisco. But you wouldn’t know it if you listened to European governments today.
After two devastating global military conflicts, the Charter explicitly aimed to “save succeeding generations from the scourge of war.” And it did so by famously outlawing the use of force in Article 2(4). The only exceptions were to be actions taken in self-defense against an actual or imminent attack and missions authorized by the U.N. Security Council to restore collective security.
And yet, after the United States bombed Iran’s nuclear program last weekend, the leaders of the E3 countries (the United Kingdom, France and Germany) released a joint statement that made no reference to international law, let alone the U.N. Charter whose 80th anniversary was just days away. EU Commission President Ursula von der Leyen’s post on X mentioned the risks of a nuclear Iran and the need for regional stability ahead of respect for international law, almost as if the latter were an afterthought.
When Russia launched its war of aggression against Ukraine in 2022, European leaders most certainly did not underline the need to preserve stability on the European continent above all else. Russia’s illegal invasion of its neighbor was seen as an attack on Europe itself and on everything that it stood for. A herculean effort was undertaken to punish Moscow and provide Kyiv with military assistance, financial support, and a path toward joining the West. EU leaders have even endorsed the establishment of a special tribunal to try Russia for the crime of aggression.
Due to pressure from the Trump administration, European decisionmakers have finally come around to the idea of a ceasefire in Ukraine. But after three years of war and hundreds of thousands of dead, they are still not prepared for a veritable and unavoidable compromise. Ukraine’s right to join NATO is still defended in many circles as a matter of principle, even though the administration ruling it out has rendered the entire discussion a moot point. Sanctions cannot be lifted while Russian troops remain on Ukrainian soil, even partially as a means of advancing a delicate peace process.
Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, we were told, left the world a binary choice: either fight to preserve the “rules-based international order” or enter a dangerous new reality defined by the “law of the jungle.”
To be fair, the “rules-based order” was always a deliberately opaque term, designed to allow a subset of states to dictate the terms of legitimate interstate behavior. But while the U.S. under Joe Bidenconceived of this order as a bloc with both proponents and opponents, the Europeans seemed to view it more earnestly as a neutral description of the post-World War II global system based on multilateralism, international law, and the peaceful resolution of disputes.
Unfortunately, Russia’s invasion of Ukraine exposed — and deepened — Europe’s dependence on the United States for its security. This came after the EU’s worsening ties with Russia in the years prior to the war had already illustrated the tension between Brussels’ desire to “speak the language of power” while remaining a normative actor. As a matter of principle, no third country could exercise a veto over the EU and Ukraine pursuing mutually beneficial cooperation — but what if such cooperation exacerbated security tensions on the continent and was, therefore, of dubious strategic utility?
Three years ago, Brussels elites were patting themselves on the back over the resurgence of transatlantic unity and the EU’s newfound status as a “geopolitical actor.” Unbeknownst to them, they were actually laying the groundwork for the world to roll their eyes at any European reference to the “rules-based international order.” That European leaders continue to fall in line with the U.S. despite the major (and crudely manifested) rift that has opened up between them under Trump speaks volumes.
Going forward, appeals to international norms in the case of Ukraine will carry far less water. It has become clear as day that European governments refuse to compromise on Ukraine not to uphold universal principles, but rather because of their perceived security (and status-related) interests and fears. Ironically, this will come at the expense of Europe’s ability to get much of the rest of the world on board for its strategy of isolating Russia and increasing pressure on Vladimir Putin to compromise.
Twenty months of Israeli violations of international humanitarian law in Gaza have not prompted a significant break in relations between Jerusalem and European capitals. In that case, at least one could argue that Hamas was systematically violating the laws of war as well. But Israel’s attack on Iran was a clear-cut violation of international law — a preventive rather than pre-emptive war, aimed at averting an unfavorable security situation in the future rather than thwarting an imminent threat. In that sense, it was not entirely dissimilar from Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, which ostensibly aimed to halt Kyiv’s deepening ties with NATO.
All too often, we hear that the existence of a rules-based international order is the sine qua non of a European Union that itself is a rules-based organization composed of 27 equal member states. Yet Europe’s evident double standard in responding to the events of the past three years has laid bare its contradictory aspirations and the rudderlessness of its foreign policy.
With the U.S. invasion of Iraq and Russia’s more recent assault on Ukraine, the great powers have set a precedent that rising middle powers appear all too happy to emulate. To help reverse this trend, European governments will need to condemn violations of international law more consistently. They should also consider rallying a global coalition behind an effort to forge new and tighter international norms to regulate the use of force — a campaign that would also offer an opportunity to reset relations with Global South states that have been alienated by Europe’s response to the war in Ukraine.
Moreover, in recent years, countries such as Azerbaijan and Israel have succeeded in demonstrating that conflicts that high-minded internationalists insisted only had a political solution may have a military solution after all. It is imperative that Europe lead by example in sending a message to the world that diplomacy, rather than military coercion, represents the best way to achieve one’s political goals.
If Europe were more open to a genuine compromise peace with Russia — one that compartmentalizes disagreements but reaffirms key international norms — this would affirm quite powerfully that negotiations, rather than territorial gains, offer the most reliable means of guaranteeing one’s core security interests. Successful negotiations would also help to avert a decades-long cold war that risks going hot — and dealing the final blow to the world that the U.N. Charter envisioned in the process.
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Top image credit: Tehran Iran - November 4, 2022, a line of Iranian Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps troops crossing the street (saeediex / Shutterstock.com)
In a startling turn of events in the Israel-Iran war, six hours after Iran attacked the Al Udeid Air Base— the largest U.S. combat airfield outside of the U.S., and home of the CENTCOM Forward Headquarters — President Donald Trump announced a ceasefire in the 12-day war, quickly taking effect over the subsequent 18 hours. Defying predictions that the Iranian response to the U.S. attack on three nuclear facilities could start an escalatory cycle, the ceasefire appears to be holding. For now.
While the bombing may have ceased, calls for regime change have not. President Trump has backtracked on his comments, but other influential voices have not. John Bolton, Trump’s former national security adviser, said Tuesday that regime change must still happen, “…because this is about the regime itself… Until the regime itself is gone, there is no foundation for peace and security in the Middle East.” These sentiments are echoed by many others to include, as expected, Reza Pahlavi, exiled son of the deposed shah.
Yet for many Iranians, regime change would represent a profound betrayal of their long-held democratic aspirations through peaceful protests. It also raises several uncomfortable but necessary questions: What person or what organizations are ready to govern the day after, and is there a viable roadmap for what comes next?
The answer, according to leading Iran scholars and analysts, is bleak.
“Absolutely no one,” says Hamid Dabashi, professor of Iranian Studies at Columbia University.
“The monarchists and the Mojahedin are positively despised by the overwhelming majority of the Iranian population with no grassroots support,” he adds. “Despite a significant opposition to the ruling regime, it is still widely and passionately popular among many others.”
The vacuum left by the regime’s collapse would not be filled by democratic forces, but likely by the Iranian Revolutionary Guards Corps (IRGC), the military organization dedicated to regime control and survival, or violent power struggles.
And yet, external promoters of regime change — from exiled elites to Western think tanks — continue to push a fantasy of democratization-by-collapse. They fail to answer the most basic questions: Who forms the interim authority? What coalition can command legitimacy across Iran’s deeply diverse and fractured society? How is order maintained in the days and weeks following the fall of the current regime?
Without consensus on even the basic norms of democratic governance, the opposition remains paralyzed and ill-prepared to step in if the regime collapses.
As foreign intervention again becomes a tool of Western policy, more Iranians are invoking the legacy of Mohammad Mosaddegh, the democratically elected prime minister overthrown in a CIA- and MI6-backed coup in 1953. That act of foreign interference cleared the path for decades of autocratic rule, first by the Pahlavi monarchy and eventually by the Islamic Republic itself. If the lesson of Mosaddegh means anything today, it is that externally engineered regime change often backfires and ends in more repression.
Beyond the leadership vacuum lies an even more volatile threat: the fragmentation of the Iranian state. Iran is a multi-ethnic society, and the sudden collapse of central authority could trigger a surge in secessionist movements among the Kurds, Balochis and Azeris. These groups have legitimate historical grievances, but they also risk becoming pawns in a larger geopolitical struggle.
“This is quite serious,” warns Dabashi. “These groups have legitimate grievances against the central government that have been put to illegitimate ends by Israel financing and arming them. They will remain legitimate only so far as they demand and exact their rights within the Iranian polity — the instant they raise the Israeli flag, get weapons from them, and side with the invaders of their own homeland they become illegitimate bandits.”
Neighboring countries will not stand idly by. Turkey, Syria and Iraq are likely to resist any Kurdish independence efforts, while Pakistan will fiercely oppose Baloch separatism. Azerbaijan’s meddling in Iran’s Azeri-populated regions could provoke confrontation. In the wake of its victory against Armenia in the 2020 Nagorno-Karabakh war, Baku’s irrendenstist rhetoric has sparked fury across Iran. On November 10, 2022, a private Azerbaijani TV channel sent a message to Iranian Azerbaijanis: “Your path is the path of justice. In this path, we stand by your side. We are with you until the end.” Images of the Khudafarin Bridge connecting the Azerbaijan border with Iran through the Araz River were shown in the background.
These dynamics raise the specter of regional war fueled by proxy militias, with Iran as the battlefield.
As noted earlier, the one force poised to fill the void is the IRGC. With a nationwide infrastructure and command over both military and economic assets, the IRGC may emerge as the de facto ruling power.
“IRGC at its core is a guerrilla operation,” Dabashi says. “One consequence of this Israeli invasion might in fact be a military coup in Iran by the IRGC rather than a democratic government.”
Thomas Warrick, former senior adviser in the U.S. State Department, concurs.
“The most likely ‘winner’ if the present government collapses would be a military dictatorship (‘election by coup’) by the Iranian Islamic Revolutionary Guards Corps, which is the best-armed, and far away the richest actor in Iranian politics,” says Warrick, who also served as deputy assistant secretary for counterterrorism policy. “They would likely install a figurehead religious leader to give their rule the mantle of legitimacy. But the level of internal repression would likely increase. This is not the only possible outcome, but it is the most probable unless outside forces intervene — which is unlikely at the moment.”
That scenario would amount not to liberation, but to a change in autocrats, from clerics in robes to generals in fatigues, propping up a new Ayatollah not only dependent on the IRGC for his security but also for his position.
And the international community must be prepared for any such possibilities. There is no historical precedent, Dabashi warns, for violent regime collapse in Iran or the broader Middle East leading directly to democratization.
“You cannot bomb, destroy and slaughter people to democracy,” he says.
Nor can Iran count on popular mobilization for change. The Arab Spring uprisings in 2010 and 2011 were characterized by protests and armed rebellions, and led to the overthrow of regimes in Tunisia, Egypt, Libya and Yemen. Yet the 2009 Iranian Green movement prompted by allegations of election fraud against reformist Mir-Hossein Mousavi was quashed by Iranian security forces. Subsequent movements such as the 2019 Bloody November movement protesting the rise in fuel prices and the recent (and ongoing) Mahsa Amani protests have been met with more heavy-handed crackdowns and large-scale killings, to include executions, by authorities.
Iran is fertile ground for popular mobilization as a means of regime change. Yet, while the regime is unpopular, high inflation wreaks havoc among families and cultural warfare divides the theocracy and the people, such mobilization still faces a multi-layer security apparatus dedicated to regime perpetuation and political repression. Until there are visible signs of fractures in the Basij, the Iranian Army and/or the Iranian Revolutionary Guard Corps, the current regime is unlikely to change.
Still, many Iranians long for change. As Massoumeh Torfeh, an Iran specialist at the London School of Economics, notes, “Regime change is a deeply misguided idea. It may be what 80 percent of Iranians desire, but without a credible opposition or a unifying leadership figure, there is no viable alternative on the horizon” — at least before the passing of the Supreme Leader, 86-year-old Ayatollah Ali Khamenei.
What is needed now is a reassessment of U.S. and Israeli policies toward Iran. Bombing campaigns and regime decapitation strategies have failed time and again in the region, from Iraq to Libya to Syria. Each time, they created new vacuums filled not by representative institutions, but by violence, warlordism and foreign interference. The lessons from these misadventures are clear: the plan for the day after is far more important than the war plans themselves.
In both the U.S. and Israel, recent comments from the Israeli defense minister and President Trump seem to indicate a willingness for regime change (even while positions seem to change daily) but they have offered absolutely no evidence that their teams have made serious efforts to develop plans to address “the day after.” This is not George Santayana’s “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” Or an oft stated definition of insanity as “doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.” This is worse. Those senior government officials and influential voices who still call for regime change when an opportunity for a return to diplomacy exists are committing egregious professional malpractice.
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Top photo credit: People line up to use an automated teller machine (ATM) outside a bank in Havana, Cuba, May 9, 2024. REUTERS/Alexandre Meneghini
Among the elements of the budget bill working its way through the U.S. Congress is a proposal for a 3.5% tax on all retail money transfers made by all non-citizens residing in the United States (including those with legal status) to other countries.
Otherwise known as remittences, these are transfers typically made by immigrants working in the U.S. to help support family back home.
The revenue impact of the bill is expected to be relatively small; the Tax Foundation cites estimates from the Joint Committee on Taxation that the tax revenue over 10 years will likely amount to $26 billion. To put this in perspective, the U.S. fiscal deficit in 2024 alone was estimated at $1.8 trillion (or 6.4% of U.S. GDP), so the remittance tax would bridge less than 0.16% of the deficit.
While the direct fiscal impact of the tax on the United States might be small, the consequences would be much greater outside the country, with a particular impact on many of America’s neighbors. According to the World Bank, global remittances to lower and lower-middle income countries amounted to $685 billion in 2024. The World Migration Report put U.S. outbound remittances at $79 billion in 2022.
However it is likely that this number is a significant underestimate as outbound data for source countries typically captures only about 65% of funds received. The countries receiving the largest inflows were India with $129 billion and Mexico with $65 billion. In both instances, the inflows are a small (but still meaningful) portion of GDP, at roughly 3.4% of GDP in India and 3.9% in Mexico.
But remittances play a far larger economic role for the smaller countries in the Western Hemisphere. The Inter-American Development Bank’s estimates showed Central America receiving $46 billion in remittances in 2024, while $18 billion went to the countries in the Caribbean. And World Bank statistics for 2024 show their importance — remittances accounted for between roughly 18% and 26% of GDP for Haiti, Jamaica, Guatemala, El Salvador, Honduras, and Nicaragua, all countries with sizable immigrant populations in the U.S.
While the tax appears small as a percentage of the amount sent, it will take yet another bite out of remittance income. Even before the proposed tax, the World Migration Report put the 2023 cost of money transfers from the U.S. to Central America and the Caribbean at just under 6% of the transmitted amount. These costs may well rise above a total of 10% given the increased burden of verification and record-keeping that the transmitting agency would be required to comply with.
This runs counter to one of the United Nation’s sustainable development goals, which has been to reduce the cost of remittances to 3% by 2030, based on the expectation that the development of personal digital transfer technology would lead to such an outcome. And its focus on remittance costs reflects the sheer importance of such flows for many countries in the Global South. The World Bank report cited above notes that emittance flows to poorer countries have for years exceeded the amount of Foreign Direct Investment (FDI) and foreign aid they receive combined.
Further, the remittance tax proposal comes at a time when other forms of American economic engagement with the Global South are also broadly in retreat. Washington has cut foreign aid to poor countries drastically, and other wealthy countries, under pressure to increase their defense budgets, have also reduced their own aid programs.
Trade ties are also under stress, even with America’s closest neighbors. While Mexico was spared the administration’s retaliatory tariffs on Liberation Day, tariffs that violate the USMCA free-trade agreement have been imposed on the non-U.S. content of fully assembled automobiles imported from Mexico. Along similar lines, the timeline for tariffs on auto parts suggests a desire to force a repatriation to the U.S. of a good portion of the industry’s capacity that had migrated to Mexico over the past several decades.
Meanwhile, countries in Central America also escaped the worst of the Liberation Day retaliatory tariffs, with most receiving only the minimum 10% tariff (Nicaragua got 19%) but even this tariff runs counter to tariff-free access they were supposed to receive under the provisions of Washington’s free trade agreement that covers the region and the Dominican Republic, CAFTA-DR. The impact will be especially pronounced in the apparel sector.
Thus, this is yet another region caught up in the battles within an administration divided on the relative merits of nearshoring; that is, bringing parts of Mexico, Central America, and the Caribbean into American supply chains, as opposed to a full reshoring within the U.S.’s own borders. The treaty that is the anchor of nearshoring, USMCA, is up for a review that needs to be completed by July 1, 2026. The outcome will give a hint of administration policies towards the broader region —for example, whether it wishes to renegotiate and modify CAFTA-DR, ignore it, or abrogate it.
The remittance tax issue is part of a broader question about how the U.S. sees the intersection of its economic and strategic concerns in the poorer countries of the Global South, and involves difficult choices involving domestic politics and national security.
Deeper economic engagement through investment, trade, and official assistance could promote economic development that lessens the pressures that are manifested in the metric of remittances as a share of GDP in key countries of the region.
Conversely, targeting remittances through tax policy (among a host of other measures) could serve to heighten economic distress that, in turn, increases incentives for poor people to leave their homelands for wealthier countries, including the United States, despite the considerable risks involved.
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