Uvodni prizor (New York Times):

The black S.U.V. carrying Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu arrived at the White House just before 11 a.m. on Feb. 11. The Israeli leader, who had been pressing for months for the United States to agree to a major assault on Iran, was whisked inside with little ceremony, out of view of reporters, primed for one of the most high-stakes moments in his long career.

U.S. and Israeli officials gathered first in the Cabinet Room, adjacent to the Oval Office. Then Mr. Netanyahu headed downstairs for the main event: a highly classified presentation on Iran for President Trump and his team in the White House Situation Room, which was rarely used for in-person meetings with foreign leaders.

Mr. Trump sat down, but not in his usual position at the head of the room’s mahogany conference table. Instead, the president took a seat on one side, facing the large screens mounted along the wall. Mr. Netanyahu sat on the other side, directly opposite the president.

Appearing on the screen behind the prime minister was David Barnea, the director of Mossad, Israel’s foreign intelligence agency, as well as Israeli military officials. Arrayed visually behind Mr. Netanyahu, they created the image of a wartime leader surrounded by his team.

Zgodba:

Jonathan Swan and Maggie Haberman, two White House journalists, reveal how Trump made the decision to go to war against Iran. What they describe is exactly what I analyze in The Puppet of the White House.

Here are the facts.

Netanyahu sold a dream. On February 11, in the Situation Room, the Israeli Prime Minister presented a four-act scenario: kill the Supreme Leader, destroy the Iranian army, spark a popular revolution, install a new regime. He even showed a montage video featuring the “future leaders” of Iran. Trump responded: “Sounds good to me.” In one sentence, he had just sealed the fate of the region.

The next day, the CIA said it was hot air. Parts 3 and 4 of Netanyahu’s pitch—the popular revolution and regime change—were labeled a “farce” by Ratcliffe himself. Rubio translated: “In other words, it’s bullshit.” General Caine added: “It’s the standard Israeli procedure. They oversell, and their plans aren’t always well developed.”

Trump heard. And he still said yes.

Vance saw it all. The vice president was the only one in the room to outright oppose it, warning that the war could “destroy Trump’s political coalition,” that the Strait of Hormuz was the real vulnerability, that no one could predict Iranian retaliation when a regime’s survival was at stake. He said: “You know I think this is a bad idea. But if you want to do it, I’ll back you.”

This isn’t political courage. It’s deference.

Susie Wiles watched. The chief of staff, who had concerns, felt it “wasn’t her role” to voice them on a military decision in front of the others. She “encouraged the advisors to share their views.” She stayed silent.

General Caine never said no. He laid out the risks: depleted munitions stocks, Strait of Hormuz, no clear path to victory. Then he said: “If you order the operation, the military will execute.”

Trump, meanwhile, “only heard what he wanted to hear.”

And Trump signed off aboard Air Force One, 22 minutes before the deadline set by his own general: “Operation Epic Fury is approved. No aborts. Good luck.”

That’s how you go to war in the 21st century. Not with solemn deliberation. Not with a congressional vote. Not with an exit strategy. With a Netanyahu slideshow, a “sounds good to me,” and a note sent from an airplane.

In The Puppet of the White House, I write that the real decision-makers are those who prepare the presentations Trump watches. Netanyahu understood that better than anyone. He staged an hour of visual spectacle in the Situation Room with Mossad as the backdrop, videos of “future leaders,” a promise of quick and clean victory.

Vir: glej spodaj