In this episode of Democracy Works from The McCourtney Institute for Democracy, the team discusses democracy’s many doomsayers and how to heed their warnings for the future without falling into despair.
Podcast: On democracy's doomsayers


In this episode of Democracy Works from The McCourtney Institute for Democracy, the team discusses democracy’s many doomsayers and how to heed their warnings for the future without falling into despair.

Over 150 students and staff members of the Shajareh Tayyebeh girls’ elementary school in Iran were killed in a missile strike. Iranian Press Center.
Images from the missile strike in southern Iran were more horrifying than any of the case studies Air Force combat veteran Wes J. Bryant had pored over in his mission to overhaul how the U.S. military safeguards civilian life.
Parents wept over their children’s bodies. Crushed desks and blood-stained backpacks poked through the rubble. The death toll from the attack on an elementary school in Minab climbed past 165, most of them under age 12, with nearly 100 others wounded, according to Iranian health officials. Photos of small coffins and rows of fresh graves went viral, a devastating emblem of Day 1 in the open-ended U.S.-Israeli war in Iran.
Bryant, a former special operations targeting specialist, said he couldn’t help but think of what-ifs as he monitored fallout from the Feb. 28 attack.
Just over a year ago, he had been a senior adviser in an ambitious new Defense Department program aimed at reducing civilian harm during operations. Finally, Bryant said, the military was getting serious about reforms. He worked out of a newly opened Civilian Protection Center of Excellence, where his supervisor was a veteran strike-team targeter who had served as a United Nations war crimes investigator.
Today, that momentum is gone. Bryant was forced out of government in cuts last spring. The civilian protection mission was dissolved as Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth made “lethality” a top priority. And the world has witnessed a tragedy in Minab that, if U.S. responsibility is confirmed, would be the most civilians killed by the military in a single attack in decades.
Dismantling the fledgling harm-reduction effort, defense analysts say, is among several ways the Trump administration has reorganized national security around two principles: more aggression, less accountability.
Trump and his aides lowered the authorization level for lethal force, broadened target categories, inflated threat assessments and fired inspectors general, according to more than a dozen current and former national security personnel. Nearly all spoke on condition of anonymity for fear of retaliation.
“We’re departing from the rules and norms that we’ve tried to establish as a global community since at least World War II,” Bryant said. “There’s zero accountability.”
Citing open-source intelligence and government officials, several news outlets have concluded that the strike in Minab most likely was carried out by the United States. President Donald Trump, without providing evidence, told reporters March 7 that it was “done by Iran.” Hegseth, standing next to the president aboard Air Force One, said the matter was under investigation.
The next day, the open-source research outfit Bellingcat said it had authenticated a video showing a Tomahawk missile strike next to the school in Minab. Iranian state media later showed fragments of a U.S.-made Tomahawk, as identified by Bellingcat and others, at the site. The United States is the only party to the conflict known to possess Tomahawks. U.N. human rights experts have called for an investigation into whether the attack violated international law.
The Department of Defense and White House did not respond to requests for comment.
Since the post-9/11 invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq, successive U.S. administrations have faced controversies over civilian deaths. Defense officials eager to shed the legacy of the “forever wars” have periodically called for better protections for civilians, but there was no standardized framework until 2022, when Biden-era leaders adopted a strategy rooted in work that had begun under the first Trump presidency.
Formalized in a 2022 action plan and in a Defense Department instruction, the initiatives are known collectively as Civilian Harm Mitigation and Response, a clunky name often shortened to CHMR and pronounced “chimmer.” Around 200 personnel were assigned to the mission, including roughly 30 at the Civilian Protection Center of Excellence, a coordination hub near the Pentagon.
The CHMR strategy calls for more in-depth planning before an attack, such as real-time mapping of the civilian presence in an area and in-depth analysis of the risks. After an operation, reports of harm to noncombatants would prompt an assessment or investigation to figure out what went wrong and then incorporate those lessons into training.
By the time Trump returned to power, harm-mitigation teams were embedded with regional commands and special operations leadership. During Senate confirmation hearings, several Trump nominees for top defense posts voiced support for the mission. Once in office, however, they stood by as the program was gutted, current and former national security officials said.
Around 90% of the CHMR mission is gone, former personnel said, with no more than a single adviser now at most commands. At Central Command, where a 10-person team was cut to one, “a handful” of the eliminated positions were backfilled to help with the Iran campaign. Defense officials can’t formally close the Civilian Protection Center of Excellence without congressional approval, but Bryant and others say it now exists mostly on paper.
“It has no mission or mandate or budget,” Bryant said.
Global conflict monitors have since recorded a dramatic increase in deadly U.S. military operations. Even before the Iran campaign, the number of strikes worldwide since Trump returned to office had surpassed the total from all four years of Joe Biden’s presidency.
Had the Defense Department’s harm-reduction mission continued apace, current and former officials say, the policies almost certainly would’ve reduced the number of noncombatants harmed over the past year.
Beyond the moral considerations, they added, civilian casualties fuel militant recruiting and hinder intelligence-gathering. Retired Gen. Stanley McChrystal, who commanded U.S. and NATO forces in Afghanistan, explains the risk in an equation he calls “insurgent math”: For every innocent killed, at least 10 new enemies are created.
U.S.-Israeli strikes have already killed more than 1,200 civilians in Iran, including nearly 200 children, according to Human Rights Activists News Agency, a U.S.-based group that verifies casualties through a network in Iran. The group says hundreds more deaths are under review, a difficult process given Iran’s internet blackout and dangerous conditions.
A mourner holds a portrait of students during a funeral held after a school in Iran’s Hormozgan province was bombed. Thousands attended the ceremony. Stringer/Anadolu via Getty ImagesDefense analysts say the civilian toll of the Iran campaign, on top of dozens of recent noncombatant casualties in Yemen and Somalia, reopens dark chapters from the “war on terror” that had prompted reforms in the first place.
“It’s a recipe for disaster,” a senior counterterrorism official who left the government a few months ago said of the Trump administration’s yearlong bombing spree. “It’s ‘Groundhog Day’ — every day we’re just killing people and making more enemies.”
In 2015, two dozen patients and 14 staff members were killed when a heavily armed U.S. gunship fired for over an hour on a Doctors Without Borders hospital in northern Afghanistan, a disaster that has become a cautionary tale for military planners.
“Our patients burned in their beds, our medical staff were decapitated or lost limbs. Others were shot from the air while they fled the burning building,” the international aid group said in a report about the destruction of its trauma center in Kunduz.
A U.S. military investigation found that multiple human and systems errors had resulted in the strike team mistaking the building for a Taliban target. The Obama administration apologized and offered payouts of $6,000 to families of the dead.
Human rights advocates had hoped the Kunduz debacle would force the U.S. military into taking concrete steps to protect civilians during U.S. combat operations. Within a couple years, however, the issue came roaring back with high civilian casualties in U.S.-led efforts to dislodge Islamic State extremists from strongholds in Syria and Iraq.
The aftermath of the U.S. airstrike on the Doctors Without Borders hospital in Kunduz, Afghanistan, that killed 42 people. Najim Rahim/AP ImagesIn a single week in March 2017, U.S. operations resulted in three incidents of mass civilian casualties: A drone attack on a mosque in Syria killed around 50; a strike in another part of Syria killed 40 in a school filled with displaced families; and bombing in the Iraqi city of Mosul led to a building collapse that killed more than 100 people taking shelter inside.
In heavy U.S. fighting to break Islamic State control over the Syrian city of Raqqa, “military leaders too often lacked a complete picture of conditions on the ground; too often waved off reports of civilian casualties; and too rarely learned any lessons from strikes gone wrong,” according to an analysis by the Pentagon-adjacent Rand Corp. think tank.
Under pressure from lawmakers, Trump’s then-Defense Secretary James Mattis ordered a review of civilian casualty protocols.
Released in 2019, the review Mattis launched was seen by some advocacy groups as narrow in scope but still a step in the right direction. Yet the issue soon dropped from national discourse, overshadowed by the coronavirus pandemic and landmark racial justice protests.
During the Biden administration’s chaotic withdrawal of U.S. forces from Afghanistan in August 2021, a missile strike in Kabul killed an aid worker and nine of his relatives, including seven children. Then-Defense Secretary Lloyd Austin apologized and said the department would “endeavor to learn from this horrible mistake.”
That incident, along with a New York Times investigative series into deaths from U.S. airstrikes, spurred the adoption of the Civilian Harm Mitigation and Response action plan in 2022. When they established the new Civilian Protection Center of Excellence the next year, defense officials tapped Michael McNerney — the lead author of the blunt RAND report — to be its director.
“The strike against the aid worker and his family in Kabul pushed Austin to say, ‘Do it right now,’” Bryant said.
The first harm-mitigation teams were assigned to leaders in charge of some of the military’s most sensitive counterterrorism and intelligence-gathering operations: Central Command at MacDill Air Force Base in Tampa, Florida; the Joint Special Operations Command at Fort Bragg, North Carolina; and Africa Command in Stuttgart, Germany.
A former CHMR adviser who joined in 2024 after a career in international conflict work said he was reassured to find a serious campaign with a $7 million budget and deep expertise. The adviser spoke on condition of anonymity for fear of retaliation.
Only a few years before, he recalled, he’d had to plead with the Pentagon to pay attention. “It was like a back-of-the-envelope thing — the cost of a Hellfire missile and the cost of hiring people to work on this.”
Bryant became the de facto liaison between the harm-mitigation team and special operations commanders. In December, he described the experience in detail in a private briefing for aides of Sen. Chris Van Hollen, D-Md., who had sought information on civilian casualty protocols involving boat strikes in the Caribbean Sea.
Bryant’s notes from the briefing, reviewed by ProPublica, describe an embrace of the CHMR mission by Adm. Frank Bradley, who at the time was head of the Joint Special Operations Command. In October, Bradley was promoted to lead Special Operations Command.
At the end of 2024 and into early 2025, Bryant worked closely with the commander’s staff. The notes describe Bradley as “incredibly supportive” of the three-person CHMR team embedded in his command.
Bradley, Bryant wrote, directed “comprehensive lookbacks” on civilian casualties in errant strikes and used the findings to mandate changes. He also introduced training on how to integrate harm prevention and international law into operations against high-value targets. “We viewed Bradley as a model,” Bryant said.
Still, the military remained slow to offer compensation to victims and some of the new policies were difficult to independently monitor, according to a report by the Stimson Center, a foreign policy think tank. The CHMR program also faced opposition from critics who say civilian protections are already baked into laws of war and targeting protocols; the argument is that extra oversight “could have a chilling effect” on commanders’ abilities to quickly tailor operations.
To keep reforms on track, Bryant said, CHMR advisers would have to break through a culture of denial among leaders who pride themselves on precision and moral authority.
“The initial gut response of all commands,” Bryant said, “is: ‘No, we didn’t kill civilians.’”
As the Trump administration returned to the White House pledging deep cuts across the federal government, military and political leaders scrambled to preserve the Civilian Harm Mitigation and Response framework.
At first, CHMR advisers were heartened by Senate confirmation hearings where Trump’s nominees for senior defense posts affirmed support for civilian protections.
Gen. Dan Caine, chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, wrote during his confirmation that commanders “see positive impacts from the program.” Elbridge Colby, undersecretary of defense for policy, wrote that it’s in the national interest to “seek to reduce civilian harm to the degree possible.”
When questioned about cuts to the CHMR mission at a hearing last summer, U.S. Navy Vice Adm. Brad Cooper, head of Central Command, said he was committed to integrating the ideas as “part of our culture.”
Despite the top-level support, current and former officials say, the CHMR mission didn’t stand a chance under Hegseth’s signature lethality doctrine.
The former Fox News personality, who served as an Army National Guard infantry officer in Iraq and Afghanistan, disdains rules of engagement and other guardrails as constraining to the “warrior ethos.” He has defended U.S. troops accused of war crimes, including a Navy SEAL charged with stabbing an imprisoned teenage militant to death and then posing for a photo with the corpse.
A month after taking charge, Hegseth fired the military’s top judge advocate generals, known as JAGs, who provide guidance to keep operations in line with U.S. or international law. Hegseth has described the attorneys as “roadblocks” and used the term “jagoff.”
At the Civilian Protection Center of Excellence, the staff tried in vain to save the program. At one point, Bryant said, he even floated the idea of renaming it the “Center for Precision Warfare” to put the mission in terms Hegseth wouldn’t consider “woke.”
By late February 2025, the CHMR mission was imploding, say current and former defense personnel.
Shortly before his job was eliminated, Bryant openly spoke out against the cuts in The Washington Post and Boston Globe, which he said landed him in deep trouble at the Pentagon. He was placed on leave in March, his security clearance at risk of revocation.
Bryant formally resigned in September and has since become a vocal critic of the administration’s defense policies. In columns and on TV, he warns that Hegseth’s cavalier attitude toward the rule of law and civilian protections is corroding military professionalism.
Bryant said it was hard to watch Bradley, the special operations commander and enthusiastic adopter of CHMR, defending a controversial “double-tap” on an alleged drug boat in which survivors of a first strike were killed in a follow-up hit. Legal experts have said such strikes could violate laws of warfare. Bradley did not respond to a request for comment.
“Everything else starts slipping when you have this culture of higher tolerance for civilian casualties,” Bryant said.
Concerns were renewed in early 2025 with the Trump administration’s revived counterterrorism campaign against Islamist militants regrouping in parts of Africa and the Middle East.
Last April, a U.S. air strike hit a migrant detention center in northwestern Yemen, killing at least 61 African migrants and injuring dozens of others in what Amnesty International says “qualifies as an indiscriminate attack and should be investigated as a war crime.”
Operations in Somalia also have become more lethal. In 2024, Biden’s last year in office, conflict monitors recorded 21 strikes in Somalia, with a combined death toll of 189. In year one of Trump’s second term, the U.S. carried out at least 125 strikes, with reported fatalities as high as 359, according to the New America think tank, which monitors counterterrorism operations.
“It is a strategy focused primarily on killing people,” said Alexander Palmer, a terrorism researcher at the Washington-based Center for Strategic and International Studies.
Last September, the U.S. military announced an attack in northeastern Somalia targeting a weapons dealer for the Islamist militia Al-Shabaab, a U.S.-designated terrorist group. On the ground, however, villagers said the missile strike incinerated Omar Abdullahi, a respected elder nicknamed “Omar Peacemaker” for his role as a clan mediator.
After the death, the U.S. military released no details, citing operational security.
“The U.S. killed an innocent man without proof or remorse,” Abdullahi’s brother, Ali, told Somali news outlets. “He preached peace, not war. Now his blood stains our soil.”
In Iran, former personnel say, the CHMR mission could have made a difference.
Under the scrapped harm-prevention framework, they said, plans for civilian protection would’ve begun months ago, when orders to draw up a potential Iran campaign likely came down from the White House and Pentagon.
CHMR personnel across commands would immediately begin a detailed mapping of what planners call “the civilian environment,” in this case a picture of the infrastructure and movements of ordinary Iranians. They would also check and update the “no-strike list,” which names civilian targets such as schools and hospitals that are strictly off-limits.
One key question is whether the school was on the no-strike list. It sits a few yards from a naval base for the Iranian Revolutionary Guard. The building was formerly part of the base, though it has been marked on maps as a school since at least 2013, according to visual forensics investigations.
“Whoever ‘hits the button’ on a Tomahawk — they’re part of a system,” the former adviser said. “What you want is for that person to feel really confident that when they hit that button, they’re not going to hit schoolchildren.”
If the guardrails failed and the Defense Department faced a disaster like the school strike, Bryant said, CHMR advisers would’ve jumped in to help with transparent public statements and an immediate inquiry.
Instead, he called the Trump administration’s response to the attack “shameful.”
“It’s back to where we were years ago,” Bryant said. If confirmed, “this will go down as one of the most egregious failures in targeting and civilian harm-mitigation in modern U.S. history.”
Hannah Allam covers national security issues, with a focus on militant movements and counterterrorism efforts.
Kirsten Berg contributed research. She covers federal government and related national and international issues.
The U.S. Built a Blueprint to Avoid Civilian War Casualties. Trump Officials Scrapped It. was first published by ProPublica and was republished with permission.

Protesters gather as Harvey Weinstein arrives at a Manhattan court house on January 06, 2020 in New York City.
Each time a major sexual assault case comes to light, the public conversation follows a familiar pattern. Awareness campaigns are launched. Safety tips are shared. People are reminded to watch their drinks, walk in groups, and trust their instincts. The focus quickly turns to what potential victims should do differently.
But the harder question remains: Why does sexual assault continue to happen on such a large scale?
Recent headlines make that question impossible to ignore. The world continues to grapple with the legacy of the Jeffrey Epstein case, which exposed how wealth, influence, and institutional failures allowed sexual abuse to continue for years despite repeated warnings. At the same time, new allegations involving César Chávez have forced communities to confront painful questions about power, loyalty, and silence within movements built on justice. Survivors in those cases have described years of fear, retaliation, and disbelief, underscoring a truth that extends far beyond any single individual.
Consider also the recent case in France involving Gisèle Pelicot. For nearly a decade, her husband drugged her and invited dozens of men to rape her while she was unconscious in her own home. Investigators later identified more than ninety assaults committed by multiple perpetrators over several years. This was not a stranger in a dark alley. This was a husband, a home, and a network of men who chose to participate. The case shocked the world, yet it reflects a pattern that has existed for generations.
Sexual violence is rarely random. Research from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention consistently shows that the perpetrator is often someone the survivor knows, such as a partner, coworker, neighbor, or family member. These environments are built on trust, authority, and power.
I wrote previously about prevention in trusted spaces and continue to stand by that recommendation. Prevention should be directed toward people known to us, not only toward strangers. But the second most important priority is accountability. Without accountability, prevention becomes a promise without protection.
The scale of sexual violence raises uncomfortable questions. Is the problem a lack of awareness or a lack of consequences? Is it a failure of education or a failure of systems to act when harm occurs? Sexual violence is not only about individual behavior. It is deeply connected to the misuse of power and control, particularly in environments where authorities go unchecked and reputation is protected.
To be sure, men can also be victims of sexual assault. Their experiences deserve recognition, support, and justice. Yet the reality remains that sexual violence is shaped by social structures that normalize dominance and entitlement. These dynamics often place men in positions of authority and influence, making them more likely to be perpetrators and making institutions more hesitant to hold them accountable. This is not an accusation against individuals. It is an acknowledgment of patterns that have persisted across generations.
Breaking the silence has become a rallying cry in recent years. Survivors who come forward are often described as courageous, and rightly so. Speaking about sexual violence requires extraordinary strength. But courage should not be a prerequisite for safety. Reporting harm should not feel like stepping into uncertainty without protection.
Many survivors never report sexual assault. Studies have shown that fear of retaliation, disbelief, stigma, and institutional inaction are among the most common reasons survivors remain silent. Silence is often interpreted as weakness or shame, but in many cases, it is a rational response to systems that have historically failed to deliver justice.
Recent revelations across sectors have reinforced this reality. In the Epstein case, records showed that warnings about abuse surfaced repeatedly before meaningful action was taken. In the emerging allegations surrounding César Chávez, survivors have described remaining silent for years out of concern that speaking out would harm a movement they believed in. These stories differ in context and geography, but they share a common thread: power without accountability creates risk.
The persistence of sexual violence is not evidence of moral failure among survivors. It is evidence of structural failure within institutions.
If society is serious about preventing sexual violence, safety can no longer be treated as an individual responsibility. It must be treated as an institutional obligation. Prevention cannot depend on survivors being vigilant. It must depend on systems being accountable. Policies alone do not create safety. Enforcement does. Action does. Consequences do. Institutions must do more than write procedures and conduct training. They must respond decisively when harm occurs. They must protect those who report misconduct. And they must accept responsibility when failures happen. Real prevention requires reporting systems that survivors can trust without fear of retaliation, consistent enforcement of policies regardless of status or reputation, leadership that is held responsible for safety outcomes rather than procedural compliance, independent oversight when misconduct is alleged, and consequences that are timely, transparent, and unavoidable. These are not aspirational goals. They are the minimum standards of any institution that claims to protect people. Safety is not created by awareness alone. Safety is created by accountability.
Sexual violence will not end through awareness campaigns alone. It will not end through training sessions or policy statements. It will end when institutions demonstrate that harm carries consequences and that power does not shield perpetrators from responsibility.
Prevention begins with education. It continues with accountability. It becomes real only when systems are willing to act.
Stephanie Whack is a survivor of domestic violence, an advocate at the intersection of victimization and homelessness, and a member of The OpEd Project Public Voices Fellowship on Domestic Violence and Economic Security. In 2024, she was awarded the LA City Dr. Marjorie Braude Award for innovative collaboration in serving victims of domestic violence.
The country has been suffering under the thumb of Trump now for more than a year. So much of our country and people's lives are in shambles because of his actions. He has broken his promises to his middle-class and rural supporters (see my article, "Listen Up, Trump Supporters!"). He has disabled government agencies that protect the people. He has not only taken America to war against Iran without much of an explanation or the approval of Congress, but clearly the war and all the billions that have been spent and will be spent have not and will not result in anything that improves the interests of the United States in the region, and may in fact worsen them.
Trump controls, in large part, by being the most forceful presence, not just in the United States but in the world. In his king-like demeanor, he constantly takes action to undermine or destroy the government's traditional roles; he is a congenital liar, and he is so revered by his followers that he controls the airwaves and the media. The Democratic Party—the loyal opposition—has had no forum to act since Trump has mostly side-stepped his totally subservient Congress in moving his policy agenda forward.
Individual Democratic politicians have certainly made statements about Trump's actions from the sidelines. But the Party itself has not developed a structured, regular format for providing the American people with a counterweight, to let them know its take on what is happening in Washington. It has been missing in action.
Since there is no anointed leader of the party at this point, it falls to the Party leadership, both in Congress and at the DNC, to create a media vehicle to provide this information to the people and to be a regular presence in their lives. Trump provides his information and is present every day. For the sake of the country and the Party, it must provide its information and presence regularly and dependably, probably weekly, with social media posts during the week.
There is precedent for such a media vehicle. I can't think of anything recent, but in the 60s, the Everett Dirksen/Charles Halleck show was the Republican answer to the Kennedy and Johnson administrations. From the moment Kennedy took office in 1961 until Dirksen's death in 1969, the Republican leaders of the House and the Senate met weekly for a televised chat about what had been going on in the government over the previous week. Known as the "Ev and Charlie Show," it was well received and widely viewed and provided the Republican Party with a voice and presence when they were in the minority, as the Democrats are now.
This Democratic media vehicle must be more than a way to provide clear and focused criticism of Trump and his policies; the Party must use this forum to present to the people its vision of what the government should be doing to fulfill its various roles—including securing the rights of all people—grounded always in its take on our founding principles as expressed in the Declaration of Independence. And it must explain those principles clearly to the people because Trump and MAGA have fostered a perverted version of those principles. (See my articles, "Where Is the Democratic Party's Clarion Voice," and "The Far-Right's Biggest Lie.")
It could well be that disapproval of the war and high gas prices could result in Democrats winning both the House and the Senate in the upcoming midterm elections. But the party cannot leave that to chance. They must give people a reason to vote Democratic, rather than just registering disapproval of Trump.
Why? If Democrats win, they will have to present a united front against Trump's policies for the remaining 2 years of his presidency. They can only do that successfully if they have been given a mandate by the people. But their winning the election will only be considered a mandate for them if they have presented their proposals to the people. And so the election becomes not just a rebuke of Trump but an affirmation of the people's support for Democratic policy positions grounded in our founding principles.
Ronald L. Hirsch is a teacher, legal aid lawyer, survey researcher, nonprofit executive, consultant, composer, author, and volunteer. He is a graduate of Brown University and the University of Chicago Law School and the author of We Still Hold These Truths. Read more of his writing at www.PreservingAmericanValues.com

George Washington saved the American Revolution not by winning battles, but by refusing defeat. From the daring 1776 Brooklyn evacuation to lessons for the 2026 US-Iran conflict, this story explores how wars are won through endurance, not just victory.
Many wars are remembered for decisive battles. The American Revolution survived because one army refused to be destroyed.
George Washington understood that reality during the darkest months of the Revolutionary War. In 1776, the American rebellion stood on the edge of collapse. The Continental Army had been defeated repeatedly, and the British believed the conflict might soon end with a single decisive blow.
On the night of August 29, 1776, George Washington had not slept in two days.
His army, 9,000 men, was trapped on Brooklyn Heights. British forces had driven them there after a crushing defeat, routing the Continental Army through the undefended Jamaica Pass and shattering its forward lines in a matter of hours. Now the survivors were pressed against the East River, the Royal Navy controlling the surrounding waters, British troops digging siege lines just 600 yards away. Captain Sir George Collier, commanding HMS Rainbow off Long Island, recorded in his journal that all of Washington's men "must be killed or taken prisoners. . . . If we become masters of this body of rebels, the war is at an end."
Washington had other plans.
He ordered a silent evacuation. Through the night, Colonel John Glover's regiment of Marblehead fishermen and sailors rowed small boats back and forth across the East River in darkness and rain. Oars were muffled in cloth. Washington himself rode the lines through the night, then stood at the landing to supervise each embarkation, cheering, calming, and encouraging his troops through what one historian called one of the most difficult trials a soldier can endure.
By dawn, the army was still not fully across.
Then the fog came. A thick morning mist settled over the harbor so dense that one soldier wrote you could scarcely discern a man at six yards distance. The final battalions crossed under its cover. Washington was the last man to board the last boat, with British forces already closing in on the shore behind him.
In London, bells rang across the city, candles were lit in windows, and King George III awarded General Howe the Order of the Bath. The rebellion, it seemed, had been broken.
It had not.
The fog that morning was luck. The decision to cross was strategy.
What Washington understood that Howe did not was this: the army was the revolution. Lose it, and everything collapsed. Keep it alive, and the rebellion could survive any number of battlefield defeats. As he wrote to Congress during the campaign, "We should on all occasions avoid a general action, or put anything to the risk, unless compelled by necessity."
Over the following months, his forces were pushed across New Jersey toward the Delaware River. Soldiers marched without proper shoes. Enlistments were expiring. Thomas Paine described the moment as "the times that try men's souls." Yet the rebellion refused to die.
Henry Clinton's own narrative of the campaigns returns again and again to the same frustration: the Americans would not be brought to a decisive engagement. The British captured New York and Philadelphia. They won nearly every engagement. But as long as Washington's army survived, Britain faced another campaign season, another round of ships and soldiers and money crossing 3,000 miles of Atlantic. The conflict widened as France entered the war in 1778, followed by Spain and the Dutch Republic. Winning battles did not end the war. They lost because they could not convert battlefield success into strategic closure.
The British controlled the battlefield. The Americans controlled time.
Washington's endurance strategy depended on one condition: the army had to survive. That condition is worth keeping in mind as the United States wages war against Iran in the spring of 2026.
When this piece was first drafted, the US-Iran confrontation looked like a recognizable asymmetric contest. Iran possessed missiles, drones, and regional proxy networks designed to complicate and prolong any conflict with a technologically superior adversary. The strategic logic seemed familiar: not battlefield dominance but cumulative cost and political attrition.
Events since February 28 have, if anything, deepened the parallel.
US and Israeli forces launched surprise airstrikes killing Supreme Leader Khamenei and numerous other Iranian officials. Iran's missiles, nuclear infrastructure, air defenses, navy, and proxy command networks have all been severely degraded. Yet US intelligence assessments suggest Iran's regime will likely remain in place, weakened but more hard-line, with the IRGC exerting greater control. Atlantic Council analysts warn that Iran's long history of asymmetric conflict suggests the kinetic portion of this war could be just a start.
Washington lost battles, too. He kept fighting.
This is where Washington's lesson bites hardest. The British did not lose because Washington outfought them. They lost because they could not end the war on terms that justified its cost. Destroying Iran's conventional military resolves one question and immediately raises another: what does strategic closure actually look like, and is the United States prepared for the long, irregular campaign that may follow the airstrikes?
That question, as of this writing, has no public answer.
Strategic success is not always about imposing outcomes. Sometimes it is about denying them.
Washington's campaign offers a reminder that wars can turn not on moments of victory but on the refusal to accept defeat.
Some conflicts are not decided by who wins but by who cannot be defeated.
Edward Saltzberg is the Executive Director of the Security and Sustainability Forum and writes The Stability Brief.