Before we analyse war, we must ask a more fundamental question.
Are we civilised?
Or have we only learned to appear so?
And if we are, what does civilisation mean?
Does it grant us the authority to judge others as uncivilised—and to wage war in the name of that judgement? Or does it demand restraint, dialogue, and accountability, even when power makes force possible?
Institutions and the Bypassing of Reason
Humanity has not remained idle in the face of conflict. It has built institutions—the United Nations, the Security Council, the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA), the International Criminal Court (ICC)—to replace chaos with process, and force with deliberation.
These institutions are imperfect. They are slow, often constrained by political interests, and sometimes ineffective.
But they exist for a reason.
To ensure that disputes are resolved through verification, negotiation, and collective judgement rather than unilateral action.
Yet in moments of crisis, they are often bypassed.
Not because they do not exist, but because they limit what power can do.
Decisions of war are taken not through global consensus, but through concentrated power. The question then becomes unavoidable:
Are these institutions obsolete—or are they ignored because they restrain power?
If they are outdated, they must be reformed.
If they are weak, they must be strengthened.
But if they are bypassed deliberately, then what we are witnessing is not institutional failure.
It is the prioritisation of power over principle.
The Spring of Diplomacy
In early 2025, the United States and Iran entered indirect negotiations mediated by Oman. Beginning in April and continuing through May, these talks were described as constructive in their early phases. Multiple rounds took place, including discussions extending into technical scrutiny of Iran’s nuclear programme.
A UK Parliament briefing (CBP-10254, May 2025) reflects this period: progress was evident, though significant differences remained unresolved.
Diplomacy had not solved the problem.
But it had opened a path.
By early June, however, the situation had shifted. Concerns raised through IAEA findings, alongside Iran’s signals of further enrichment, contributed to renewed tension.
But these concerns must also be examined within a broader context. Nuclear capability is not absent from the region. It exists—though unevenly acknowledged, selectively legitimised, and politically defended.
This raises a deeper question: are principles of non-proliferation applied universally, or are they shaped by power, alliance, and strategic interest?
Negotiations had not vanished, but they had clearly stalled. The path of dialogue had narrowed—but it had not entirely disappeared.
The June Escalation
On 13 June 2025, Israel launched a series of airstrikes targeting Iranian nuclear facilities, military infrastructure, and senior leadership. Sites such as Natanz, Fordow, and Isfahan were struck, initiating what became known as the “Twelve-Day War.”
Iran responded with missile and drone attacks.
On 22 June, the United States entered the conflict, striking key nuclear facilities using bunker-buster munitions. A ceasefire, brokered shortly thereafter, came into effect on 24 June.
A later UK Parliament briefing (CBP-10292, July 2025) indicates that Gulf states and others viewed the escalation as aggressive, particularly in light of the recent Oman-mediated diplomatic efforts.
This is the critical point.
The strikes did not interrupt a thriving negotiation.
But they occurred in the shadow of one that had recently existed—and had not yet been fully exhausted.
The Illusion of Certainty
In I Am, Therefore I Think, I argue that human beings are inherently pattern-seeking and uncomfortable with uncertainty. We construct narratives to impose order on complexity.
In geopolitics, this instinct becomes amplified.
War is not only fought with weapons.
It is fought with explanations.
Security. Deterrence. Pre-emption. Necessity.
These are not neutral descriptions. They are narratives that give moral and strategic shape to actions already influenced by fear, power, and historical memory.
Every state claims justification.
Every action is framed as rational.
Yet when multiple actors present conflicting certainties, a deeper question emerges:
If all sides claim reason, where does truth reside?
Truth does not lie in assertion.
It lies in examination.
Economic and Geopolitical Consequences
The consequences of the June escalation extend far beyond immediate military objectives.
The first is economic.
The Strait of Hormuz remains one of the most critical energy corridors in the world. Even the perception of instability generates immediate ripple effects—rising insurance costs, disrupted shipping confidence, and a persistent risk premium on global energy markets.
The second is geopolitical.
European hesitation to fully align with escalation, combined with Gulf concerns over timing and necessity, reflects a subtle but significant shift. Alliances remain, but trust becomes conditional. Strategic unity gives way to cautious recalibration.
The third is internal.
External pressure tends to strengthen hardline positions within targeted states. In Iran, the logic of resistance gains credibility when diplomacy appears insufficient or unreliable. The space for reform narrows when force replaces negotiation.
The Moral Illusion
Another assumption must be questioned.
That war can be moral.
Across history, morality has been attached to conflict through religion, identity, and the language of protection. Each side claims righteousness. Each invokes justice. Each believes itself justified.
But morality grounded in belief is not universal.
As explored in I Am, Therefore I Think, belief itself is constructed—shaped by culture, environment, and shared narratives. What one nation considers just, another may consider unjust.
This leads to a critical insight.
A morality that favours one nation, one belief, or one identity over others is not morality.
It is alignment.
And alignment, when backed by force, often disguises itself as justice.
True ethical reasoning must move beyond authority and identity. It must be grounded in consequences—human suffering, stability, and long-term impact.
When war produces destruction, displacement, and instability, its moral justification becomes increasingly fragile, regardless of the narrative used to defend it.
Are We Civilised?
Civilisation is not defined by what we build.
It is defined by what we restrain.
If institutions designed to prevent conflict are ignored, if evidence is replaced by assumption, and if morality is shaped by allegiance rather than consequence, then the claim of civilisation becomes fragile.
We are left with a difficult but necessary question.
Have we evolved beyond war?
Or have we simply refined the language through which we justify it?
The Responsibility to Think
The purpose of this analysis is not to assign allegiance.
It is to examine assumptions.
What was known?
What had failed?
What alternatives remained?
Who benefits from urgency?
Who benefits from fear?
These are not abstract questions.
They are the foundation of intellectual responsibility.
In an age of rapid narratives and immediate alignment, the most radical act is not reaction.
It is thought.
Conclusion
We believe we are advanced.
We believe we are rational.
We believe we are civilised.
But civilisation is not proven in peace.
It is tested in conflict.
And when negotiation exists, yet war is chosen, we must confront an uncomfortable possibility.
We have not moved beyond the past.
We have only learned to justify it more convincingly.
I am.
Therefore I think.
And because I think, I must question not only what is done—but why it is done.
Maq Masi Blog 
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