Statements from unnamed DoD officials suggest that President Donald Trump is planning to withdraw U.S. troops from Northeast Syria.
ISIS is largely degraded and regional states have pledged to carry on the fight, Bashar al-Assad’s regime is gone, diplomatic outreach to the new leadership in Damascus is underway, and Iran’s proxy forces have taken a severe beating while losing unfettered access to the Mediterranean via Syria. There’s little reason why U.S. troops should remain in Syria.
Critics of withdrawal argue that it could destabilize Syria’s fragile peace and benefit ISIS, especially since thousands of potential ISIS fighters remain in camps administered by the Syrian Defense Forces (SDF). These are real concerns and any withdrawal should be orderly and coordinated, encouraging diplomacy between Washington’s Kurdish partners (SDF), Turkey, and Damascus —but it should proceed.
Diplomacy between the SDF, Damascus, and Ankara could even be hindered if the SDF believe that U.S. troops will remain indefinitely. Arguing for an indefinite U.S. troop presence in Syria both overstates U.S. influence and ties troops to uncontrollable conditions.
It also offers an opportunity to make diplomatic inroads into the new de facto government in Damascus. Syrians have taken back their country and Washington should respond with diplomacy and sanctions relief rather than indefinite troop deployments. A responsible and timely withdrawal from Syria aligns with U.S. national interests and should be part of a broader effort to reduce the U.S. military presence in regions lacking both international and domestic legal justification.
Adam Weinstein is Deputy Director of the Middle East program at the Quincy Institute, whose current research focuses on security and rule of law in Afghanistan, Pakistan, and Iraq.
Top photo credit: U.S. Soldiers conduct area reconnaissance in the Central Command (CENTCOM) area of responsibility in Syria, Feb. 18, 2021. (U.S. Army photo by Spc. Jensen Guillory)
The escalating tensions between Russia and Azerbaijan — marked by tit-for-tat arrests, accusations of ethnic violence, and economic sparring — have tempted some Western observers to view the conflict as an opportunity to further isolate Moscow.
However, this is not a simple narrative of Azerbaijan resisting Russian dominance. It is a complex struggle over energy routes, regional influence, and the future of the South Caucasus, where Western alignment with Baku risks undermining critical priorities, including potential U.S.-Russia engagement on Ukraine and arms control.
The immediate spark came in June, when Russian security forces raided alleged Azerbaijani-linked criminal networks in Yekaterinburg, resulting in the deaths of two Russian nationals of Azerbaijani origin and arrests of more suspected mobsters. Baku condemned the raids as ethnically motivated, while Moscow claimed the deaths were due to natural causes.
The fallout was swift: Azerbaijan arrested Russian nationals, including Kremlin-linked media employees accused of espionage and seemingly random expatriates, while state-backed media in Baku launched a fierce anti-Russian propaganda campaign.
This clash built on deeper tensions. Since Azerbaijan’s 2023 reconquest of Nagorno-Karabakh, which sidelined Russian peacekeepers and exposed Moscow’s waning regional influence, President Ilham Aliyev has pursued an assertive foreign policy. Aliyev’s sharp public criticisms of Russia over the Azerbaijan Airlines plane crash in Russian airspace in December 2024 — in which he demanded accountability, compensation, and justice—signaled a newfound combativeness toward Moscow, marking a departure from Baku’s traditionally cautious diplomacy with its powerful neighbor.
Backed by Turkey and courted by the West for its energy exports, Azerbaijan aims to dominate the South Caucasus and serve as a critical energy hub for Central Asian exports to Europe that bypasses Russia.
Baku’s ambitions center on the proposed Zangezur Corridor, a transit route through Armenia connecting Azerbaijan to its Nakhchivan exclave and Turkey. This corridor, under prospective Ankara-Baku control, aligns with Western efforts to reduce reliance on Russian hydrocarbon export but is strongly opposed by both Russia and Iran, who fear it would bolster Turkish influence at their expense.
Armenia, caught in the middle, faces intense pressure, with Aliyev threatening military action if Yerevan resists.
Armenia’s own pivot complicates the situation. Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan’s pro-Western government has distanced itself from Moscow, freezing its participation in the Moscow-led Collective Security Treaty Organization and signaling openness to NATO membership. Yet, this leaves Armenia isolated, as Western support remains largely rhetorical while Azerbaijan’s threats are tangible. Domestically, Pashinyan’s crackdown on opponents, labeled as “pro-Russian forces,” further destabilizes the country.
Encouraged by the growing geopolitical convergence between Armenia and Azerbaijan, some Western diplomats have rushed to back Baku, seeing an opportunity to push Russia out of the South Caucasus. The EU ambassador to Azerbaijan condemned alleged “violence, torture, and inhuman treatment” against ethnic Azerbaijanis in Russia, while the British ambassador expressed solidarity with the “Azerbaijani people.”
This framing is telling — both diplomats portrayed the Yekaterinburg incident as an unprovoked ethnic attack rather than a police operation targeting alleged criminals. While skepticism of Russian law enforcement is warranted, uncritically accepting Baku’s narrative — from a regime no less authoritarian than Moscow’s — is a deliberate political choice.
Although high-ranking EU officials like Commission President Ursula von der Leyen and High Representative for Foreign Affairs Kaja Kallas didn’t comment specifically on the latest clash, both have called Azerbaijan a “trusted partner” for energy security. Meanwhile, NATO has deepened its ties with Baku through programs like the Defense Education Enhancement Program.
Meanwhile, lobbying firms, sometimes skirting transparency rules, have secured congressional endorsements, with lawmakers praising Azerbaijan’s geopolitical role. Now, with the Russia-Azerbaijan rift widening, these long-cultivated networks are poised to push for even deeper Western alignment.
Some in Washington, London, and Brussels may see Azerbaijan as a useful counter to Russia, but embracing Baku uncritically would be a strategic miscalculation for four key reasons.
First, Moscow maintains decisive military superiority over Azerbaijan, including nuclear capabilities and the ability to swiftly cripple Baku's critical oil infrastructure with precision strikes. The only country that could potentially come to Azerbaijan’s aid, Turkey, is unlikely to commit itself as it has its own complex relationship with Russia, of which the Caucasus is but one piece of a much bigger puzzle.
While Moscow’s focus on Ukraine limits immediate escalation, once Russia achieves its objectives there, it could shift attention to the Caucasus. Any Western-backed confrontation would be largely futile at best and, at worst, could provoke disproportionate retaliation against Azerbaijan while further destabilizing the region.
Second, overt Western support for Azerbaijan would reinforce the Kremlin’s narrative that the U.S. seeks to encircle and weaken Russia at every turn. This would make future dialogue — whether on ending the war in Ukraine or reviving arms control talks — far more difficult. Given the existential risks of a U.S.-Russia confrontation, prioritizing a minor regional rivalry over strategic stability would be shortsighted.
Third, Aliyev’s regime is no democratic ally. His government has jailed critics, stifled dissent, and weaponized nationalism — largely mirroring Putin’s own playbook. In June, it sentenced a young researcher, Bahruz Samadov, to 15 years in jail on spurious treason charges solely for advocating peace with Armenia. Backing Baku for short-term geopolitical gains would further erode Western credibility on human rights and the “rules-based international order.”
Fourth, encouraging Azerbaijani aggression — whether against Armenia or through proxy confrontations with Russia — could trigger a wider regional conflict. The U.S. has no vital national interest in the Zangezur Corridor, but it does have an interest in preventing another war that could draw in Turkey, Iran, Israel, and Russia. Such a scenario would increase pressure from the usual interventionist quarters in Washington for the U.S. to join the fray against Russia and Iran.
Rather than taking sides, the U.S. should use its renewed dialogue with Russia to quietly push for de-escalation, making clear that Washington does not seek to exploit the conflict to further isolate Moscow. Simultaneously, the U.S. should use its influence over Azerbaijan to discourage further provocations, including threats against Armenia and Russian citizens in Azerbaijan.
The U.S. does not need another proxy conflict with Russia. Washington should resist the temptation to view Azerbaijan’s defiance of Russia as an opportunity to "win" the South Caucasus. Instead, the priority must be preventing further escalation — both to avoid another humanitarian crisis and to preserve the possibility of broader U.S.-Russia dialogue on far more pressing issues, from Ukraine to nuclear arms control.
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Top photo credit: OpenAI. 2025. Netanyahu, Trump, and Syrian President Ahmed Al-Sharaa. AI-generated image. ChatGPT
For half a century, the border between Israel and Syria on the Golan Heights was a model of hostile stability. The guns were silent, but deep-seated antagonism prevailed, punctuated by repeated, failed attempts at diplomacy.
Now, following the sudden collapse of Bashar al-Assad’s regime in December 2024 and a 12-day war between Israel and Iran that has solidified Israel's military dominance in the region, the geopolitical ice is cracking.
In a turn of events that would have been unthinkable a year ago, Israel and Syria are in “advanced talks” to end hostilities. Reports now suggest a White House summit is being planned for as early as September, where Syrian President Ahmed al-Sharaa and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu would sign a security agreement, paving the way for normalization. But this is no outbreak of brotherly love; it is a display of realpolitik, a shotgun wedding between a triumphant Israel and a destitute Syria, with Washington playing the role of officiant.
The groom is Ahmed al-Sharaa, Syria’s new president, a former jihadist leader who has swapped his fatigues for a suit. Al-Sharaa assumed power just six months ago and sits atop a transitional government formed from the ashes of a 14-year civil war, largely comprising the ranks of his former fighting force, Hay’at Tahrir al-Sham (HTS). He governs a country in ruins, desperate for economic relief and a respite from conflict.
The other party to this unlikely courtship is an emboldened Israel, fresh from a military operation against Iran that American and Israeli officials have called a stunning display of Israel’s military and intelligence dominance. Though the damage to Iran’s nuclear program is severe but “not total,” according to Rafael Grossi, head of the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA), the perceived success of the campaign has emboldened Israel, which is keen to press its new strategic advantage. Prime Minister Benyamin Netanyahu speaks of “broad regional possibilities,” and his government is aggressively pushing to expand the Abraham Accords in the aftermath.
“We have an interest in adding countries, such as Syria and Lebanon…to the circle of peace and normalization,” declared Gideon Sa’ar, Israel’s foreign minister, on June 30. For Israel, bringing Syria into the fold would be the ultimate strategic prize — transforming one of the historic linchpins of Arab rejectionism of Israel into a partner and possibly formalizing on paper its 58-year illegal hold over most of the Golan Heights.
Israel’s actions since the fall of Bashar al-Assad’s dynasty in December 2024 have been a brutal demonstration of the new power dynamic. Israeli forces have not only pummeled what remained of Syria’s military infrastructure but have also moved into the U.N.-patrolled demilitarized zone, seizing new territory deep inside Syria, including the strategic peak of Mount Hermon, which overlooks Damascus.
The potential agreement—whether its final form will be a non-aggression pact or a more comprehensive normalization—may come with a hefty dowry to be paid entirely by the Syrians. According to statements by Israeli officials, that price is the Golan Heights, a strategic plateau of internationally recognized Syrian territory, largely conquered by Israel in 1967. Though the “quiet talks” between Israel and Syria are shrouded in secrecy, Israel has made its position on the Golan Heights publicly clear, with the Israeli Foreign Minister stating that it will “remain part of the state of Israel ” and Prime Minister Netanyahu declaring that it will remain part of Israel “for eternity.”
A Syrian concession of the Golan Heights to Israel would shatter the "land for peace" principle enshrined in U.N. Security Council Resolution 242. This was the formula that underpinned the 1979 Egypt-Israel Camp David Accords, which saw the full return of the Sinai Peninsula to Egypt, and the 1994 Jordan-Israel treaty, which included the return to Jordan of roughly 380 square kilometers that Israel had controlled since the 1967 Arab-Israeli War. Crucially, “land for peace” was the explicit basis for all previous, albeit failed, negotiations with Syria, from the Madrid Conference in 1991 to the Turkish-mediated talks in 2008.
The precedent of the “Rabin deposit ”— the late Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin’s reported commitment during U.S. brokered negotiations in the mid-1990s of a full Israeli withdrawal from the Golan Heights in exchange for full normalization — has for decades set the bar for Syrian expectations, a standard Israel is now overturning with its demands that the Golan remain under its control.
The Abraham Accords of 2020 pioneered a new model that decoupled normalization from territorial concessions by Israel or genuine progress on Palestinian statehood. For the original signatories, the United Arab Emirates and Bahrain, and later joiners Morocco and Sudan, none of whom share a border with Israel, the deals provided benefits for each signatory. Morocco received U.S. and Israeli recognition of its sovereignty over Western Sahara, the UAE secured a symbolic promise that Israel would suspend annexation of parts of the West Bank, and Bahrain gained a powerful ally against its larger and more powerful neighbor, Iran.
Sudan’s incentive was removal from the U.S. list of state sponsors of terrorism. However, its formal peace with Israel never fully materialized as the country descended into civil war.
Now, Israel is applying this doctrine to Syria, albeit in a cruder, more coercive form. Its continued control over most of the Golan Heights—which it formally annexed in 1981 (a move recognized only by the U.S. under President Trump in 2019)—has been declared non-negotiable. The area is now home to some 30,000 Israeli settlers, with plans approved since al-Sharaa's rise to power to increase that population even further.
And yet, the Syrian side is attempting to push back against this new reality, albeit from a position of weakness. While unnamed Syrian sources have floated ambitious proposals for the return of one-third of the Golan Heights, the official position is far more modest. Following a call with U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio, Syrian Foreign Minister Asaad Al-Shaibani expressed Syria’s “aspiration… to return to the 1974 disengagement agreement.” In effect, Syria’s official position circles back to the original “land for peace” formula—resetting the process to the open-ended negotiation framework of Resolution 242.
Even this scaled-back demand, however, faces a wall of political opposition that extends beyond Netanyahu’s government, exemplified by figures like Benny Gantz, a prominent opposition leader and former Defense Minister, who has stated that Israel “must not withdraw from the strategic positions” in the newly seized territory. His insistence on maintaining “Israel’s security superiority” reveals a shared consensus between the government and its centrist opposition, effectively boxing Syria out of any meaningful territorial negotiation.
This is a negotiation where Israel holds all the cards; its troops occupy Syrian territory with guns pointed toward Damascus, and its recent military actions—from the 12-day campaign against Iran to the ongoing war in Gaza—demonstrate a clear capacity for aggression to secure its demands.
Acting as the enthusiastic matchmaker for this abusive relationship is President Donald Trump’s administration. For Trump, for whom personal chemistry is paramount, a single meeting in May was enough to judge Sharaa as "young, attractive," and "tough." That instinctive judgment, coupled with Saudi-Turkish lobbying, was sufficient to reverse decades of antagonistic policy.
His envoys, Tom Barrack and Steve Witkoff, have been relentless in their public messaging. Barrack speaks of Syria as an “experiment of getting this done the quickest,” while Witkoff hints at “big announcements” regarding the Abraham Accords. Yet even the American envoys acknowledge the political minefield Sharaa must navigate. Barrack himself noted that the process must be managed carefully to avoid domestic backlash in Syria. “He cannot be seen by his own people to be forced or coerced into the Abraham Accords,” Barrack said. “So he has to work slowly.”
This awareness of appearances, however, does not change the underlying strategy. The rapid dismantling of the U.S. sanctions regime, formalized in a June 30 executive order, is the critical tool for this transaction. But this is not a blanket pardon; rather, it is a carefully sequenced exercise in control.
While the order terminates the broad sanctions program, it keeps the most potent leverage in play: Sharaa himself and Syria's status as a State Sponsor of Terrorism remain under “review," not revoked, their removal held back as bargaining chips.
This provides Washington with carrots, offering Sharaa the immediate, tangible benefit of general economic relief while holding back the ultimate prizes of personal and national delisting. These rewards are contingent on numerous conditions, with “taking concrete steps toward normalizing ties with Israel” at the top of the list, as the White House fact sheet on Syrian sanctions revocation makes clear.
However, many Syrians view any deal with Israel cynically. In response to Israeli demands for a demilitarized south in February, protests erupted with chants of, "Netanyahu, you pig, Syria is not for division!" Druze communities in Sweida, which Israel has tried to woo, have hoisted banners rejecting Israel’s encroachment and affirming, "The Syrian law is their protector." For many Syrians, regardless of sect, Israel is not making a peace offer but exploiting their country's weakness to formalize a land grab—a view amplified by the unprecedented violence in Gaza and an ongoing aggressive expansion of Jewish settlements in the West Bank.
In addition, the core Palestinian issue, the original casus belli of the decades-long conflict, remains entirely unresolved, with the prospect of a two-state solution seemingly more distant than ever.
For Damascus, bankrupt and battered, a deal is not about not what Israel will give but what it will finally stop taking.
The potential prize for Syria is two-fold: an end to the relentless airstrikes and a withdrawal of Israeli troops from the U.N.-designated buffer zone they seized after 2024—an outcome that, despite the seizure's illegality under international law, remains far from guaranteed. Given the power imbalance, however, these are not Syrian demands but potential Israeli concessions: the reward for Damascus finally accepting the new reality on the Golan.
Ultimately, the inevitable agreement between Syria and Israel will be less a partnership of equals and more a transaction dictated by the new calculus of power, which is tilted overwhelmingly in Israel's favor. The only real question is the nature of the reception to follow: will it be a grand celebration of full normalization on the White House lawn desired by the U.S. and Israel or a more discrete, politically palatable truce that Damascus desperately needs?
This article is the latest installment in our Quincy Institute/Responsible Statecraft project series highlighting the writing and reporting of U.S. military veterans. Click here for more information.
America’s post-9/11 conflicts have left indelible imprints on our society and our military. In some cases, these changes were so gradual that few noticed the change, except as snapshots in time.
This is the case with the “Cult of Special Operations Forces (SOF)” that has emerged since 2001, first within the military, and then with society through mass media including popular autobiographies and movies ranging from “Black Hawk Down,” “Lone Survivor” “American Sniper,” “SEAL Team Six: The Raid on Osama Bin Laden” and many, many others. The Cult has metastasized to many broader cultural accoutrements (video games, fashion, veteran culture, etc.).
As with other situations where we see friends proceeding down an untenable path together, America’s relationship with its special operators requires an intervention.
First, to my SOF colleagues past and present, it’s not you…it’s us. Well, it’s mostly us — but a little bit you, too. This is not a screed against SOF; I am an old SOF tribal member, and I have many friends and family members within the community. Our SOF troops are an incredible resource for the country — they are almost invariably brave, patriotic, fit, and spectacularly competent. Regardless of our differing policy views, we should be proud of their professionalism and their many tactical accomplishments over recent decades.
What I am about to say will no doubt anger some of my SOF friends — but mainly because they’ll know that I’m right. In the coming years, we will require an institutional and psychological reset of relations between America and her special operators. The elitism and secrecy of the current “Cult of SOF” is bad for the military, bad for society, and — ultimately — bad for the operators themselves.
SOF and "Big Army"
Until relatively recently, the U.S. military had a problematic relationship with its special forces. The Vietnam experience soured many in the conventional military on the special operators, whom they saw as ill-disciplined and overrated. Others argued that concentrating superior troops and leaders in single units denied the rest of the force the leavening effect that those soldiers could have added to regular formations.
Despite the skepticism of senior leaders, however, SOF expanded on an ad hoc basis in the years following Vietnam, until its tenuous position with the Pentagon changed with the 1986 Goldwater-Nichols Act, which established an overarching Special Operations Command (SOCOM) and strengthened the position of SOF within the defense structure.
The institutional strength of SOF relative to their conventional cousins was subsequently turbocharged by the 9/11 attacks and their leading role in the ensuing Forever Wars.
Today’s operators enjoy a privileged and inverted relationship with their parent services. SOF is now a caste apart, dominating the upper ranks of the military and monopolizing media and cultural attention. The “quiet professionals” many originally envisaged now have a media machine unrivaled across the military. Today’s SOF often treat the conventional military as the minor leagues from which they can selectively draw new talent. This distinction impacts the morale of conventional forces, even if few are prepared to publicly discuss it.
This stratification has impacts beyond hurt feelings, however. Separate chains of command and separate lines of effort can sometimes undermine what should be unified campaign plans. SOF theory begins with the proposition that specially selected and trained small units can have a vastly disproportionate battlefield impact, and this has often been the case. Sometimes, however, conventional units and scarce air assets have had to drastically intervene to pull SOF forces out of untenable situations of their own making, as happened in Mogadishu, and Operation ANACONDA, and elsewhere.
SOF and Society
America’s worship of its special operators raises uncomfortable questions about who fights America’s wars and how that affects U.S. policy.
For the better part of two centuries, America’s “special sauce” was its ability to raise effective mass forces in wartime. The U.S. ground forces that crushed the Axis represented a large number of (reasonably) well-trained, highly mobile, and lavishly supplied conventional forces, backed by massive firepower and embedded within a joint force capable of asserting and lethally exploiting U.S. dominance of the air and sea (dominance that were themselves products of mass mobilization).
These quality conventional units were by doctrine and design reliant on ordinary conscripts and volunteers. Even elite ground units of World War II, like our five airborne and six marine divisions, were tough but basically accessible to most troops, and, by extension, to the average American. By definition, however, not everyone can be SOF — a hard reality that raises difficult questions about who actually fights today’s wars.
It is a question that policymakers are in no hurry to explore, though. Small and insular SOF units provide a dysfunctional policy community with a lethal, capable, and discrete instrument that they can quietly employ with little political cost. Casualties stay within a self-selecting and narrow segment of society. Policymakers can wage war with minimal impact on broader American society and, all too often, they have little incentive to embed SOF efforts within a viable political strategy. Put simply, SOF can and does offer political leaders easy answers to complicated problems.
That being said, much of SOF’s vaunted secrecy is largely illusory: host country nationals and adversaries soon know that they are there and usually their activities are open secrets within the U.S. With each operation, it is worth asking whether SOF’s secrecy is designed to shield their activities from the enemy or from the American public and our various oversight mechanisms.
The Cult of SOF's Negative Impact on SOF
Even among the operators themselves, adulation can breed arrogance and a lack of accountability.
Most SOF troops will admit to sometimes seeing absurd episodes of indiscipline and favoritism that would have been crushed in even the most anodyne conventional unit, but which are quietly tolerated or overlooked in the fraternity culture of some SOF elements.
Most innocently, this entails quietly covering for illustrious senior troops whose bodies can no longer take the staggering demands SOF life. In other cases, it can give way to more insidious and even criminal conduct. The case of Navy SEAL Eddie Gallagher may be the best known entry in SOF’s pantheon of misconduct, but is hardly alone. In 2017, a group of SEALS and Marine operators killed an Army Green Beret in a sickening hazing incident in Mali and followed it with a bizarre and shocking apparent ex parte effort to intercede with the soldier’s widow.
This followed a 2012 episode also in Mali, others in Iraq and Afghanistan, another in Erbil, and incident after incident elsewhere. In many cases, the troops involved have faced relatively light consequences for their actions, if, indeed, they faced any at all. To their credit, some SOF leaders themselves have openly addressed the repeated breaches of basic disciplinary standards.
Clearly, at least some SOF felt the strain of multiple combat deployments over the last 20 years. At the same time, however, we can also surmise that the command climate of some units was undermined by the ability to mask problems behind a shroud of public adulation, secrecy, and elitism.
A Warning From History
"When a nation reawakens, its finest sons are prepared to give their lives for its liberation. When empires are threatened with collapse, they are prepared to sacrifice their non-commissioned officers."
SOF are tremendously skilled and dedicated professionals and America is fortunate to have such troops. At the same time, though, SOF’s place within the broader military and society needs a reset.
Congress and executive branch officials should strengthen oversight of SOF and sharply question whether extravagant demands for secrecy are justified (from whom are we really concealing our hand?) Policymakers should ensure that when SOF is needed, their actions are synchronized with other kinetic and non-kinetic measures and embedded with a broader diplomatic and political strategy. SOF can be an exquisite tool, but they are not a stand alone policy.
The Special Operators themselves currently recognize that discipline and standards within their community need reinforcement. They can also ensure their training highlights their role within a broader force and ensure that the military as a whole is also recognized where appropriate. The fact that even an excellent film like “Black Hawk Down” barely mentions the 10th Mountain Division troops who incurred significant casualties while rescuing Task Force Ranger in Mogadishu should have incurred institutional pushback from the Army technical advisors and, frankly, from the SOF participants themselves.
More broadly, as we enter a different strategic setting from the 20-year war on terror, military commanders should seriously reconsider how SOF will be employed in a new mission set and what types of command relationships will this setting entail. We should note that SOF played a crucial role in the 1989 invasion of Panama and the 1991 Persian Gulf War — two of our more successful military endeavors of the postwar era — but they did so firmly ensconced within, and subordinated to, the larger conventional task force.
At the end of the day, though, redressing the imbalance will be difficult: the Cult of SOF has a long pedigree. An obsession with elite and specialized forces is a phenomenon observed in late-stage empires from Byzantium, with its Varangian mercenaries, through mid-20th century France with its Paras and Legionnaires, all immortalized in Jean Larteguy’s novels.
It is the unfortunate affectation of a restless and decadent society that is in constant conflict overseas, but whose own disaffected citizens feel little obligation to defend their country or to view their wars as anything other than spectator sports.
The public worship of today’s military is, in many ways, a political and emotional tithe that obscures the reality that the American public has outsourced its wars to a small and self-contained subset of society. SOF are simply the apogee of this phenomenon.
Through little fault of the operators themselves, they sit at the pinnacle of a warped religion only slightly of their own making.
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