Foreign Intervention and the Cycle of Destruction

Foreign Intervention and the Cycle of Destruction

A historical rereading of imperial interventions in Algeria, Indochina, Afghanistan, Iran, Iraq, and Libya

The main purpose of this piece is to show that foreign intervention—whether in the form of classic colonial occupation, military coups, direct military invasion, or by way of proxy wars—not only fails to achieve the lofty goals that intervening powers proclaim with grandiose language, but often releases forces from within society that are far more dangerous, more radical, and more uncontrollable than what existed before.

To understand this pattern, I have looked at several specific historical experiences: from Algeria under French colonialism; to Vietnam, Cambodia, and Laos within the wars of Indochina; from Afghanistan in the era of Daoud Khan, the coup of the People’s Democratic Party, the Soviet occupation, the organized jihad backed by the United States and Pakistan, and then the U.S. occupation and the Taliban’s return; and finally Iran—from the coup of 28 Mordad to the Islamic Revolution and the wave of political-Islamic awakening that spread across the region afterward, from Lebanon and Palestine to Egypt, Turkey, Pakistan, and Saudi Arabia.

My central argument is that foreign intervention, by cutting off the natural pathways of political and social transformation and by eliminating democratic and secular alternatives, effectively clears the field for the most radical and most coherent forces—and in our modern history, these forces have often been political Islam in its various forms. At the same time, these interventions inflict a wound on societies that is irreparable: from the destruction of cities and infrastructure to deep psychological and social trauma; from mass migration to civil wars and genocide. Losses that neither the victimized peoples nor even the intervening powers will ever be able to fully compensate afterward.

Introduction: When History Gets the Chance to Repeat Itself

When I look at the twentieth century and the beginning of the twenty-first, one thing keeps repeating before my eyes—something like a fixed, recurring pattern: foreign powers enter countries each time under a new name—once in the name of containing communism, once in the name of fighting terrorism, once in the name of promoting democracy, and once for energy security. They overthrow governments, shatter political structures, impose new orders, and leave. But decades later, when we look back at the record, we see neither the promised outcomes nor the lofty objectives; instead, the host country has become a political and social ruin, and the intervening power itself faces a chain of new crises, new hostilities, and new hatreds.

In this writing, I follow this pattern through several concrete historical scenes. I begin with Algeria, where French colonialism imposed one of the longest, harshest, and bloodiest forms of domination and then, after a devastating war, was forced to leave. Then I move to Indochina—to Vietnam, Cambodia, and Laos—where first France and then the United States tried to forcibly bend history in their favor, only to produce, in the end, precisely what they feared most. In Afghanistan we see this cycle twice: once with the Soviet Union and once with the United States; and both times the final result was nothing but the strengthening of radical currents, the ruin of generations, and the persistence of an open historical wound. And finally we come to Iran: the coup of 28 Mordad, U.S. and British support for the Shah, the sealing of every route for democratic and secular transformation, and the opening of the field to a kind of political Islam that influenced not only Iran but the entire region for decades.

In what follows, with some patience, I want to unpack these scenes one by one—not to narrate history for its own sake, but to arrive at this essential question: if today someone again imagines that by foreign intervention in Iran or any other country they can construct their “desired order,” which part of this history—so full of failure, destruction, and catastrophe—are they deliberately ignoring?

Chapter One: Algeria — A Century of Colonialism, Eight Years of War, a Wound Still Unhealed

1. France and the making of an “internal” colony

Algeria was occupied by France in 1830. Unlike many other colonies, Algeria was not viewed in Paris merely as a “distant colony,” but effectively as an extension of French soil. This created a very specific and violent structure: on the one hand, a population of Europeans living in Algeria (the pieds-noirs) who enjoyed full citizenship rights; and on the other, the overwhelming majority of the native population who were deprived of even the most basic political rights. Land ownership, education, administration—all were redesigned in favor of the French minority.

Over the decades, scattered revolts and resistances occurred, but France’s military and administrative power did not allow them to become a nationwide movement. Still, accumulated suffering grew; with each decade, a new layer of anger and humiliation was added to the collective memory.

2. The start of the independence war and the logic of repression

In 1954, the National Liberation Front (FLN), with a series of coordinated attacks, announced the beginning of the war of independence. France’s response was that of a classic colonial power: ruthless repression, torture, rural warfare, village destruction, the creation of population-control camps, and attempts to build “loyal native forces” to fight the insurgents.

Historical documents and research show that during these eight years, tens of thousands were killed under torture, hundreds of thousands were driven from their homes, lands, and livelihoods, and Algeria’s rural economy suffered irreparable blows. Estimates of the dead range from 300,000 to over one million. But whatever number one accepts, the issue is not only the statistic; the issue is what remains of a society when such war and devastation are imposed upon it.

3. France’s departure and the birth of a new order

France tried to contain the war through half-measures, token concessions, and even changes of governments in Paris—but in the end, in 1962, it was forced to leave Algeria. What was the result? Not a “pro-French Algeria” remaining in Paris’s orbit, but an independent country, deeply wounded, carrying a memory of suffering that persisted for generations.

For our purposes, the key point is this: all those interventions, occupations, tortures, and wars not only failed to deliver France’s goal, but also became a model for other anti-colonial movements; and at the same time, they planted the seed of a deep historical hostility toward foreign interventions in people’s minds. At a deeper level, Algeria was a laboratory showing how an external power can destroy everything and ultimately leave empty-handed.

Chapter Two: Indochina — Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos and Half a Century of War

1. Indochina under France’s shadow

In the late nineteenth century, France linked a set of territories in Southeast Asia under the title “French Indochina”: Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia. The colonial structure resembled Algeria: a small class of local elites allied with colonial power versus the majority crushed under heavy taxes, forced labor, and political and economic discrimination. But unlike Algeria, another ideological element entered the arena here: communism.

2. Vietnam: three decades of war to arrive at the very outcome the interveners feared

After World War II, Vietnam became the main battleground between communist independence forces led by Ho Chi Minh and France. The First Indochina War (1946–1954) ended with France’s historic defeat at Dien Bien Phu. But rather than opening the way to a calm independence, France’s defeat brought in another power: the United States.

At the height of the Cold War, the U.S. saw Vietnam as part of a larger containment strategy. Policymakers believed that if Vietnam “fell,” a domino chain would follow in Asia. That belief pushed the U.S. from financial and advisory support to direct military intervention: massive bombing, deployment of hundreds of thousands of troops, the use of napalm and chemical weapons such as Agent Orange, and turning Vietnam into a testing ground for America’s war machine.

The human outcome was catastrophic: millions of Vietnamese were killed, tens of thousands of towns and villages destroyed, vast areas of forests and farmlands contaminated for decades, and millions suffered displacement, poverty, and disability. In the end, in 1975, with the fall of Saigon, Vietnam was unified—but not in Washington’s preferred form; it became a communist country. The declared goal—preventing a communist Vietnam—was transformed into its exact opposite.

3. Cambodia: from a U.S.-backed coup to the Khmer Rouge massacre

In the 1960s, Cambodia under Prince Norodom Sihanouk pursued neutrality. But pressures of the Vietnam War and internal rivalries paved the way for a coup in 1970; with U.S. support, Sihanouk was removed and Lon Nol came to power. The coup pulled Cambodia directly into war. To strike North Vietnam, the U.S. bombed vast parts of Cambodia. These bombings and the resulting devastation—combined with the corruption and incompetence of the new regime—created space for a force that no rational scenario could have predicted: the Khmer Rouge.

The Khmer Rouge, led by Pol Pot, after taking power in 1975, created one of the twentieth century’s most horrific regimes: they emptied cities, forced people into agricultural labor camps, and targeted anyone “suspected” of education, literacy, or links to the “old system.” In four years, around 1.7 million Cambodians were massacred. In other words, an intervention meant to prevent the “communist threat” ultimately produced one of the most extreme communist regimes imaginable.

4. Laos: a neutral country, victim of unprecedented bombing

Laos may seem to many like a small country on the margins, but in the Indochina War it became one of the main victims. The Laotian monarchy tried to maintain balance between East and West and remain neutral. Yet the Americans, arguing that the “Ho Chi Minh Trail” crossed border regions of Laos, subjected the country to massive bombing. It is estimated that more than two million tons of bombs were dropped on Laos—making it the “most bombed country in history.”

After the U.S. withdrawal, Laos eventually fell to the communist Pathet Lao. Again, foreign intervention took the country to precisely the outcome it claimed to prevent—this time leaving behind ruins of towns, villages, and shattered lives.

Chapter Three: Afghanistan — From Daoud Khan’s relatively open state to two major interventions and the Taliban’s return

1. The Daoud Khan era: a brief moment of a possible path

In the early 1970s, Afghanistan, compared to many countries in the region, had a relatively more open atmosphere. In 1973, Mohammad Daoud Khan overthrew the monarchy and declared a republic. Though authoritarian, his government represented a bridge between tradition and modernity, between Islam and nationalism, and between good relations with the Soviet Union and national independence. Various parties—from leftists to Islamists—were present; the press was relatively active; and even the participation of women in government symbolized the possibility of an indigenous modernization.

This period could have been a different path for Afghanistan: a secular-national state, considering the tribal and religious structure of society, gradually pursuing reform. But that path was cut off for internal and external reasons.

2. The PDPA coup and the Soviet invasion

In 1978, the coup by the People’s Democratic Party overthrew Daoud Khan. From the outset, severe internal conflicts between Khalq and Parcham factions, combined with rapid radical reforms in a deeply traditional society, plunged the country into crisis. In December 1979, the Soviet Union decided to invade Afghanistan to “preserve the revolution” and prevent the fall of its allied government.

The Red Army’s presence turned Afghanistan into an all-out war zone. Mujahideen groups, backed financially and militarily by the U.S., Pakistan, Saudi Arabia, and others, fought Soviet forces and the Kabul government. The war produced more than a million deaths, millions of refugees, and massive infrastructural destruction. In the end, after roughly ten years, the Soviet Union withdrew without achieving its core goal: stabilizing a friendly and durable government.

But the story was not only Soviet failure. From within this bloody war emerged a new monster: the organizational and ideological infrastructure of jihad, networks of religious schools, weapons that fell into Islamist hands, and the experience of fighting one of the world’s most powerful armies—all of this laid the ground for forces such as the Taliban and al-Qaeda. Many studies argue that the jihad against the Soviets—centered on U.S. and Pakistani intelligence under Zia-ul-Haq and financed by Saudi Arabia—laid the foundations of contemporary extremism.

3. The U.S. invasion and the Taliban’s return

After September 11, 2001, the U.S. entered Afghanistan under the banner of fighting terrorism and toppling the Taliban. The pattern repeated: promises of building a modern nation-state, democracy, women’s rights, infrastructure reconstruction, and “eradicating terrorism.” But in practice, structural corruption, total dependence on foreign forces, continuing local power networks, and ongoing rural war destroyed the initial hope.

After twenty years, with the U.S. withdrawal, the Taliban returned to power—this time not merely as an insurgent force, but as a movement that took many regions without large-scale fighting. Put simply, the U.S. traveled the same road the Soviet Union had: entering with slogans, paying enormous human and financial costs, and leaving behind an outcome in which the original enemy is stronger than before.

Meanwhile, millions of Afghans were displaced once more, new generations grew up amid war and insecurity, and another wound was carved into the body of this country and region.

Chapter Four: Iran — The 28 Mordad Coup, the Islamic Revolution, and the Chain of Political-Islamic Awakening

So far, we have seen cases where foreign powers launched direct military interventions and then left in defeat. But in Iran, the story begins elsewhere: an intelligence-political-military coup against a government that could have become one of the rare examples of national democracy in the Middle East—and a model for the entire Third World.

1. The oil nationalization movement and Iran’s special position

In the early 1950s, Dr. Mohammad Mosaddegh’s government rose to power with the slogan of nationalizing the oil industry and limiting Britain’s influence and the Anglo-Iranian Oil Company. Rooted in the Constitutional tradition and national forces, Mosaddegh sought to establish a parliamentary democracy in a country long shaped by monarchical despotism. Oil nationalization made him a symbol of resistance to colonialism and an inspiration for the Third World.

But for Britain—and later the U.S.—nationalization meant losing control over strategic resources in the Cold War. Concerns over Soviet influence and the desire to maintain Western access to Iranian oil paved the way for a coup operation: “Ajax.”

2. Operation Ajax and the Shah’s return

In Mordad 1332 (August 1953), with coordination between Britain’s MI6 and the U.S. CIA, a network of court politicians, military officers, conservative clerics, and street gangs was mobilized to overthrow Mosaddegh. Money was distributed, newspapers bought, organized rumors and lies spread, and segments of the military moved against the country’s legal government. The coup succeeded: Mosaddegh was removed, the Shah—who had fled—returned, and his absolute monarchy, with direct U.S. backing, was consolidated.

In the short run, the West achieved its goal: Iran’s oil was re-divided via a consortium among Western companies; the Shah became a loyal regional ally; and the “danger” of Iran drifting toward the USSR was, in their view, removed. But that was only the short-term chapter.

3. Twenty-five years of despotism, SAVAK, and the closing of every door

After the coup, the Shah gradually removed all opposition: the National Front, the left, critical intellectuals, and even some clerics who opposed his policies. SAVAK became the security apparatus for surveillance, repression, and silencing dissent. The press was restricted, independent parties shut down or turned into state-approved shells, and any real political competition was eliminated.

The coup and the ensuing repression sent a historic message to the people: democratic and national paths—the path of Mosaddegh—had reached a dead end; not only a dead end, but something intolerable that could be removed by coup. As a result, secular and democratic alternatives were pushed to the margins. The only institution that still possessed historical roots, social networks, relative financial independence, and symbolic standing was the Shi‘a clergy.

4. The Islamic Revolution: an outcome none of the coup planners foresaw

In the years leading to 1979, accumulated grievances—economic corruption, inequality, political dependence, SAVAK repression, and the failure of superficial reforms—pushed society toward explosion. But this time, unlike Mosaddegh’s era, the force able to organize discontent was not a secular-national movement, but political Islam led by the clergy. The 1979 revolution transformed Iran and the Middle East.

For many Islamist movements across the Arab and Muslim world, this revolution became an “inspiring moment”—proof that a Western-allied regime at the peak of its power could be brought down through religious-political mobilization in less than two years. Many researchers believe that subsequent developments in the Middle East were, directly or indirectly, influenced by Iran’s 1979 revolution and what followed.

5. Exporting the model: from Tehran to Beirut, Gaza, Cairo, Ankara, and Islamabad

Lebanon and the formation of Hezbollah

In war-torn Lebanon, the Iranian revolution had a direct impact. The IRGC created the Quds Force and networks with Lebanese Shi‘a groups, culminating in Hezbollah. Using Iran’s “clerical-resistance” model, Hezbollah defined itself as simultaneously a military, political, and social force: fighting Israel, shaping Lebanese politics, and providing social services to marginalized communities.

This model combined Shi‘a ideology, anti-Israel and anti-Western positioning, modern organization, and Iranian experience. Western intervention in Iran (the 1953 coup) and later Western support for the Shah ultimately contributed to the birth of a force in Lebanon that the West never imagined—and which Western states today consider a major security threat in the region.

Palestine: from Fatah to Hamas

Before Iran’s revolution, major Palestinian forces were largely secular, nationalist, and leftist: Fatah, the Popular Front, and others. But the Islamic Revolution—alongside repeated failures of secular Arab projects (Nasserism, Ba‘athism, Arab socialism)—helped create space for Islamist currents among Palestinians. In the late 1980s, Hamas, rooted in the Muslim Brotherhood, entered the scene and redefined “resistance” in a religious-political frame. Iran’s support for groups such as Hamas and Islamic Jihad was part of a broader strategy: becoming a central axis of radical political Islam in the region.

Egypt: the Muslim Brotherhood and Sunni political Islam

The Muslim Brotherhood existed long before Iran’s revolution, but 1979 showed it that Western-allied regimes could be toppled from below through political Islam. In the 1980s and 1990s, the Brotherhood and related movements viewed Iran as a “model”—Shi‘a in form, but proof that Islam could play a central revolutionary role.

Turkey: from Erbakan’s Islamism to Erdoğan’s model

In Turkey, the Iranian revolution had an indirect but deep impact. Although Turkey’s laic republic structure prevented direct copying, Turkish Islamists—including Necmettin Erbakan—were influenced. Erdoğan’s AKP later emerged as a blend of Islamism, economic neoliberalism, and a softened “neo-Ottoman” nationalism. Part of its appeal was demonstrating that political Islam could reach power through elections—presenting a “third way” between rigid Kemalist secularism and Iran’s revolutionary model.

Pakistan: Zia-ul-Haq, Islamization, and the Pakistani Taliban

In Pakistan, Zia-ul-Haq’s 1977 coup, the Iranian revolution, and the Afghan war formed a turning point. Zia pursued Islamization to legitimize military rule: Sharia courts, legal changes, strengthening religious schools, and active participation in Afghan jihad. Studies show these policies turned Pakistan into a major hub of political Islam; madrasa networks later became part of the Taliban’s rise. Iran’s revolution also functioned as an inspirational image for Pakistani Islamists, though sectarian and structural differences shaped its local form.

Saudi Arabia: rivalry for leadership of Islam and exporting Wahhabism

Iran’s revolution confronted Saudi Arabia with a dual threat: geopolitical (a rival Islamic republic in the Gulf) and ideological (a model turning religion into anti-despotism and anti-colonial revolution). Saudi response was intensified export of Wahhabism and major investment in Salafi propagation worldwide. Research shows that from the 1970s–80s onward, oil money funded a network of Wahhabi institutions and schools across many countries, shaping radical Sunni currents.

In other words: the 1953 coup blocked democratic transformation in Iran and led to the Islamic Revolution; the Revolution challenged regional order and triggered Iran–Saudi competition for “Islamic leadership”; that rivalry fueled waves of exporting radical Shi‘a and Sunni ideologies that affected the whole region—and even Europe and the U.S.

Chapter Five: Iraq — “Regime change” by bombs, and delivering the country to the rival’s ally

Iraq after the 2003 U.S. invasion is among the clearest examples of how foreign intervention not only fails, but can deliver a country into the arms of the intervener’s main rival.

Iraq before the invasion: a brutal but structured dictatorship

Before 2003, Saddam Hussein’s Iraq was a harsh Ba‘athist dictatorship: repression of Kurds and Shi‘a, the eight-year war with Iran, the Kuwait invasion, and the post-1991 sanctions had deeply weakened the country. Yet:

• a centralized state still existed;
• the army, police, administration, and classic structures of a modern (though authoritarian) state remained;
• the society was deeply wounded, but the country had not “collapsed” in the classical sense.

The U.S. and allies, invoking “WMD,” “links to terrorism,” and “regime change,” chose to shatter this order by military force. Later, it became clear no WMD were found and many claims rested on false or manipulated information.

The 2003 occupation: dismantling the state and opening the gates of hell

The invasion began in March 2003; Saddam fell relatively quickly. But then came the fatal decisions of the Coalition Provisional Authority: dissolving the Iraqi army, de-Ba‘athification, and redesigning politics from zero.

Instead of building a new order, this did three things:

• made hundreds of thousands of trained armed soldiers suddenly unemployed, humiliated, and furious;
• paralyzed the state administration;
• opened space for chaos, looting, and the formation of armed groups.

Iraq rapidly entered sectarian war, bombings, assassinations, local wars, and the rise of “al-Qaeda in Iraq,” which later evolved into ISIS.

Human toll: hundreds of thousands dead, millions of lives shattered

Precise numbers are difficult, but academic work and projects like Iraq Body Count suggest:

• at least 134,000 Iraqi civilians killed, possibly up to 250,000;
• Iraq Body Count reports roughly 187,000 to 210,000 recorded civilian deaths in recent years;
• if indirect deaths (disease, health system collapse, malnutrition) are included, some estimates reach about 300,000 total deaths (civilian and military).
• about 4,500 to 5,000 U.S. soldiers killed; tens of thousands wounded and traumatized.
• millions of Iraqis displaced; large segments of the middle class, doctors, academics killed or forced to flee.

Political outcome: from “regime change” to handing Iraq to Iran’s axis

The U.S. entered Iraq imagining:

• it would build a secular pro-U.S. democracy;
• contain Iran;
• create a model for a “New Middle East.”

But what happened?
The new political structure reflected Iraq’s Shi‘a majority—which in itself is not illegitimate. The issue was that many Shi‘a political forces had deep historical, religious, and political ties to Iran. In the vacuum and chaos, Iran-linked Shi‘a militias and parties gained decisive influence. Research shows Iran became a central actor through:

• supporting Shi‘a parties;
• strengthening armed groups (PMF, Kata’ib Hezbollah, Asa’ib Ahl al-Haqq, etc.);
• economic and energy partnerships.

Today, Iraq is not a “secular pro-U.S. democracy,” but a fragile sectarian system where the formal state, Iran-linked Shi‘a parties, and “Axis of Resistance” militias are intertwined. The U.S. spent billions and lost thousands—only for Iraq to become a key arena of the rival Iran’s influence.

Again, the familiar scenario:
“Contrary to U.S. expectations, after Saddam’s fall… a government came to power allied with America’s main regional enemy.”

Chapter Six: Libya — From one of Africa’s most developed states to the return of slavery and civil war

Libya is often reduced in Western media to “a mad dictator named Gaddafi,” while the reality was far more complex. Libya before 2011, despite political authoritarianism, had some of the highest development, education, and welfare indicators in Africa. After intervention, it reached a point where modern slavery, human trafficking, civil war, and state collapse became normalized.

1. Gaddafi’s Libya: political authoritarianism, but socio-economic development

Gaddafi ruled from 1969 to 2011. One can and should criticize his repression—but the socio-economic picture was not simply black and white. According to UN and international data:

• Libya had one of Africa’s highest Human Development Index rankings;
• education and health care were free;
• Libya was a major destination for migrant labor—between 1.5 and 2.5 million migrants worked there;
• women’s participation in education was very high; in some levels, over 50% of university students were women.

In short: Libya was a politically authoritarian state but with oil wealth, relatively high welfare, broad education, and a society moving toward modernization.

2. Gaddafi’s turn toward the West: abandoning weapons programs and political normalization

In the 2000s, Gaddafi began another path:

• abandoned WMD programs;
• normalized relations with the U.S. and Europe;
• was removed from the “state sponsors of terrorism” list;
• signed major economic and oil agreements with Western companies;
• became a problematic but negotiable partner.

Had this continued, one could imagine Libya becoming a major Western ally in North Africa: oil-rich, relatively stable, prosperous, and strategically linked to Europe and the U.S.

NATO intervention, Gaddafi’s fall, and total state collapse

With the 2011 uprising and civil war, the UN Security Council adopted a resolution for “civilian protection,” allowing NATO action. In practice, “protection” became large-scale air war against Gaddafi’s forces and support for armed opposition. The result: Gaddafi’s fall and killing.

Then what? The Iraq-Afghanistan pattern appeared:

• central state collapse;
• army and security structures disintegrated;
• dozens of armed tribal, urban, and ideological groups took control;
• East and West Libya became parallel authorities;
• outside actors (UAE, Egypt, Turkey, Qatar, Russia, Europe, etc.) deepened the war.

Libya: from a migrant destination to a migrant hell—modern slavery and trafficking

Before 2011, Libya attracted migrant labor. After collapse, it became a trafficking corridor and then a migrant hell. IOM, UN, and rights groups report:

• hundreds of thousands of migrants trapped;
• many sold, tortured, raped, extorted, and forced into labor in modern slave markets;
• mass graves discovered;
• tens of thousands drowned at sea trying to reach Europe.

A country that could have been a strong economic partner became a symbol of state collapse, war, trafficking, and modern slavery—largely the product of an intervention that began with “protecting civilians.”

5. The alternative scenario: if military intervention had not happened

No one can say with certainty what Libya would be without intervention. But based on the 2000s trend, one plausible scenario is:

• Gaddafi would have continued rapprochement with the West;
• sanctions lifted, investment increased;
• security and intelligence cooperation expanded;
• welfare, education, women’s status, migrant labor likely continued;
• gradual controlled transition to a more stable order might have been possible.

Would Gaddafi have become democratic? Probably not.
But that is not the main question. The main question is: is what we see now—civil war, collapse, trafficking, slavery, thousands drowning—better than a scenario in which Gaddafi remained?

For ordinary people—for migrants buried in deserts or drowned in the Mediterranean—the answer is painful but clear. They would likely say they preferred Gaddafi staying.

Chapter Seven: Conclusion — Foreign intervention and losses that are never repaired

If we place these stories side by side—Algeria, Indochina, Afghanistan, Iran, Iraq, and Libya—we reach a bitter but clear result: foreign intervention, at best, is a political failure for the intervener; at worst—and most commonly—it is an irreparable catastrophe for the host country and future generations.

This catastrophe has three main layers:

1. Material and structural destruction

When bombs fall on a city, it is not only houses that are destroyed; a society’s infrastructure, its ability to reproduce life, and its capacity for the future are destroyed. Algeria, Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos, Afghanistan, Iraq, and Libya show that postwar reconstruction—if possible—takes decades; and even after decades, the imprint remains in the economy, environment, farmland, and urban fabric.

No power—neither the intervener nor the victimized people—can fully restore what was erased in a moment of bombing. This destruction is a rupture of historical continuity, as if part of a nation’s memory has been torn away.

2. Psychological, moral, and social wounds

Foreign intervention does not only destroy physically; it fractures societies from within. Generations raised in war develop constant insecurity, deep mistrust, and the normalization of violence as an everyday response. Families who lose parents, children, loved ones carry wounds that transmit to the next generation even when explosions stop.

These wounds prepare the ground for new cycles of violence. A child who witnesses bombing becomes, in youth, more susceptible to radical groups offering meaning, identity, and “revenge.” We have seen this in Afghanistan, Iraq, Syria, and elsewhere.

3. Lives that never return

Finally, the most painful point: no power, no organization, no treaty can bring back the humans killed by these interventions. When we speak of hundreds of thousands or millions dead, we are speaking of hundreds of thousands or millions of lives: children who never grew up, young people who never loved, families never formed, books never written, poems never spoken, kindness never lived.

This loss is the least reparable of all. Not by the victimized people, not by the interveners; not with money, apology, or the superficial rebuilding of cities. Here we must be honest: when a country decides to intervene militarily, stage a coup, or wage a proxy war, it enters a game whose outcome is far beyond political and geographic calculations. It enters a sphere where the fate of generations is manipulated.

Personal–Historical Conclusion

When I set this path—from Algeria and Indochina to Afghanistan, Iran, Iraq, and Libya—side by side, I arrive at a deep concern: if we do not learn from these experiences—especially from Iran’s 28 Mordad coup and Islamic Revolution, and from Iraq after 2003 and Libya after 2011—there is a very real danger that we will repeat the same historical mistake again and again: imagining that with bombing, sanctions, coups, or direct military intervention one can build a “new order”—an order either aligned with foreign powers’ desires or with the raw fantasies of a desperate segment of opposition movements in these countries.

But the experience of Algeria, Indochina, Afghanistan, Iran, Iraq, and Libya tells us loudly that the outcome is almost always the opposite of what is expected: forces emerge that are more radical, more violent, and more uncontrollable than what came before; states collapse, societies are wounded, and in the end it is ordinary people who lose everything—home, security, future, dignity, and sometimes even their names and traces.

That is why I keep returning to this question—not as an abstract political debate but as a human and historical issue:

Is there truly no more humane, more just, more sustainable way than foreign intervention to change conditions inside a country?

And if such a way exists—and I believe it does—why is it still not taken seriously enough? Why, instead of thinking about difficult, costly but internal paths, do individuals and groups still choose the easiest and most catastrophic option: the very option whose ending history has repeatedly shown to be destruction?

Reza Fani Yazdi
December 20, 2025