During a discussion with a friend who teaches philosophy at the University of Oxford, we touched on one of the most sensitive questions in contemporary politics: How can a single piece of misleading or inaccurate intelligence reshape the fate of entire countries and regions?
Was the US decision to go to war with Iran the right one? Did President Donald Trump believe that dealing with Iran would be a quick operation, much like Venezuela, where a US special force arrested President Maduro? Did he genuinely accept Netanyahu’s narrative? What intelligence was the decision based on? And what led Trump to believe, as he stated more than once, that Iran would not strike its Gulf neighbours in retaliation for US attacks?
Modern history offers examples that are difficult to ignore. The 2003 Iraq War was driven largely by intelligence concerning weapons of mass destruction that later proved inaccurate, or at least insufficient to justify a war. In Afghanistan, long-term strategic decisions were based on assessments that failed to fully grasp the country’s complex social, tribal and religious structure and the fragility of the state. Even the Vietnam War continues to be examined in terms of the intelligence that preceded escalation and how it was interpreted within political and military circles.
Leaders and decision-makers should never treat intelligence reports as unquestionable facts or follow their recommendations without scrutiny. Intelligence should inform political decisions, not replace political judgment. Even more dangerous is when a leader seeks intelligence to justify a decision already made or to advance political or personal interests, with potentially disastrous consequences.
The risks become even greater when politics interferes with intelligence analysis, turning an institution designed to investigate and assess into one that simply justifies. The question is no longer: What do we know about reality? Instead, it becomes: What do we want to prove about reality? Intelligence then ceases to be a means of understanding the world and becomes a tool for validating a predetermined decision.
In fact, my conversation with my friend was less about politics or geopolitics than about the philosophy of decision-making itself. We were trying to understand the moment when assumption and speculation become accepted as fact and certainty and eventually form the basis for war.
What happens when the most consequential sovereign decision a country can make rests on information that has not been adequately verified, was wrong from the outset or was exaggerated as it moved through the corridors of power? The issue then becomes more than the quality of an intelligence report. It raises a deeper question about the relationship between knowledge and power.
When intelligence assessment is treated as final truth, political leaders risk losing one of their most important tools: the ability to doubt, question, reassess and change course.
Intelligence agencies were established to provide knowledge and reduce uncertainty for decision-makers. Yet however sophisticated, powerful or well-resourced they may be, they remain human institutions, vulnerable to error, bias, political pressure and psychological influences.
Decisions of war and peace are therefore often based on the best assessment available at a particular moment, rather than indisputable facts. Reports from major agencies such as the CIA, Mossad or any other intelligence service should consequently be approached with critical judgment rather than unquestioning acceptance.
This is particularly important in major confrontations involving countries such as Iran. Modern wars are rarely quick, contained or decisive. Their consequences extend far beyond the battlefield, affecting the global economy, energy markets, supply chains and regional stability. Military superiority does not guarantee political control, and a successful first strike does not determine how a conflict will end.
Intelligence is not absolute truth. It is an analytical tool that must constantly be questioned, reviewed and tested against multiple sources and different perspectives.
Countries that learn from intelligence failures can reduce the cost of future mistakes. Those that repeat the same patterns without serious critical review risk reproducing the same crises in different forms, even when the names, borders and circumstances change.
akram@fp7.com
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